The giddy high of a morning ride

I’ve found that getting an early start to anything, especially a bike ride, gives a mental lift, a suffusion of doing something fresh and new early in the day, that at least for me, brings an energy of optimism to the ride. I think of baseball in the “early is optimism” theory. Spring training is the pre dawn of a long season that emerges from the cold vestiges of winter and starts with workouts between pitchers and catchers in the warm sun of Arizona and Florida. And in doing their first stretches ballplayers are in high spirits to be back playing the game they love. Each team is charged with the giddy optimism that anything is possible in the season ahead, even a shot at the World Series.

It’s the same at the start of day baseball games for me. They’re close to mid-day, when morning is still fresh in the air, and as the game begins with the pop of that first pitch, the crowd is filled with a collective high of spirit and optimism for the old ball team’s chances to win.

I get that same feeling on a bike ride that starts either early, mid or late morning. The backdrop of a new day brings energy to starting a new ride that hums with feelings of excitement, fun and possibilities.

On the flipside, afternoons, as they move toward late day and early evening, bring, to me at least, an association of mental and sometimes physical fatigue that comes with drained energy.

I started a regular ride of mine an hour earlier in the morning and noticed a difference on the last 25 miles, which is the length of the ride home. Because I was on the trail an hour earlier, the last half of the ride was close enough to morning to still feel like it. And just that tilt of the sun, with its morning tinged splash of light, gave me more energy on the last part of the 50-mile ride where mental and physical fatigue begin to set in.

It was a nice change, because when I’d started later, the sun was noticeably into the afternoon, and the afternoon sensations of a fading day, tended to match my lower energy late in the ride as I churned the pedals homeward.

It’s just mindset, but check it out. See how you feel on a ride you start in the morning, as opposed to one with a late day start. See if you notice a giddy optimism that a great ride is coming up. It’s the best.

Best laid plans

This past week I had planned to ride three days in a row for a change, since the weather was sunny with relatively cool air and only a little wind. I had been doing two rides a week, with a day off spacing them out, and the rest really helped bring strength and stamina in my second rides. So to mix it up, I figured I’d try three rides in consecutive days, which I did a lot of last year to build fitness.

On the first ride, my energy was low and there were tough crosswinds. I had a slow first 25 miles. But then I turned around and had pulled up more energy to finish the last 25 miles with fast times.

But the max effort I put out on that last 25 miles took a toll on my legs. The next day when I went out, my legs were pretty dead, like there was residual lactic acid that hadn’t flushed through them. The ride, I knew was gonna be a slog. I just spun along and only pushed for speed at designated points on the trail where I do sprint intervals for a few hundred yards. Yep, the first half of the ride was slow. And unlike the day before when I still had reserve energy, the ride back wasn’t as slow, but still pretty sluggish.

So when the third day came around, with sun and air temp verging on hot, I ran through the scenario: Let’s see, surely going to have tired legs again today without any rest. And, it’s going to be pretty warm out there. It would surely be another slog, with more heat. Have to drink constantly to stave off cramps. I decided not to ride. Could have pushed it, but just didn’t feel any spark to go. Maybe if I’d gotten on a stationary bike and spun off lactic acid in my legs the day before, I’d feel more springy. But what am I, in the pro peloton? Uh, no!

So there’s an example of a ride not ridden that may or may not have gone the way I predicted. Who knows, I may have burned through the lactic acid and found a nice crisp pace with built up fitness. But I’ve learned that while riding tired can sometimes advance overall conditioning, other times it just amounts to a beat-down. During those times, it’s probably better to chillax and let the body recharge. Then the next ride won’t likely feel like a losing battle.

The days between rides

A few months ago I went 27 days between long rides because I had too much annoying work to do! Hate it when that happens!  That was the longest stretch between rides for me, for years. If I go too long between rides, I get antsy. I gotta get on the bike and burn off energy that’s like a tightly wound spring inside that needs to be released. So when it’s time to ride again, there’s that big burst of energy as you start to pedal. That pent of power is great if you can keep close to that energy level in subsequent rides. But if the gap between rides is too long, I realized that after the initial burst, that I’ve lost the fitness needed to keep a strong pace. My stamina has packed its bags, and I need a lot of pedal time to bring it back. I’ve found that layoffs of under a week usually don’t keep me from riding back into shape fairly quickly. But gaps of two weeks or more? It’s gonna take some pedal time to ride back into shape. Hey, no problem!

The gravely serious Hammerhead

There are guys that ride on the local trail that are on an amateur cycling team that races, and has corporate sponsors, a kit with logos, etc. These guys are really fit, and are always hammering along the trail way faster than anybody else. But when one or more of them pass me, I usually try to see if I can pick up their wheel just for laughs. I’ve seen these guys pick up a whole peloton worth of stray riders that have to work their butts off just to draft off them. These dudes are serious about their speed work. The other day another rider and I spontaneously drafted each other when a rider on this racing team blew by us. I figured, hey, the two of us can draft off each other and eventually reel him in. Hah! I picked up the pace and at 24 mph I was not gaining on him. So to gain on the dude, we would have had to pick it up to 25 mph at least. “He’s too fast,” said my drafting partner, as I pulled ahead of him. “Yeah, can’t catch him,” I agreed. “Serious hammerhead.”

A few miles up the trail, the same fast guy passed my again. What? He must have stopped somewhere I didn’t see.

“Thought I dropped you,” I hollered at him, to no response. A few miles up the road, I saw he’d slowed way down, as if in a warm down after sprinting.

“You on a racing team?” I asked as I rode by.

“Yes,” he said, looking annoyed.

OK, so I’m just a putz rider. Lighten up, bro! Have a smile! Not like you’re getting ready for the Tour de France!

Til next time, remember to put on a helmet every time you get on the bike. Then keep the rubber side down, ride safely and have a blast!

-- Mark Eric Larson

Suicide squirrels...they know not what they do

Before I take off on every ride, I put the hands together and say a little prayer: May I have no contact or collisions with any animal, vehicle, or human on the ride. May I ride safely the entire ride. May I be free of mechanicals like flat tires or spoke breaks. Then, I take off.

Usually it works, I come back incident free. Occasionally, it doesn’t. Prayer or no prayer, I’ve still gotten an occasional flat or much worse, a spoke break. Or I hit a squirrel and either (A) kill the squirrel and crash, or (B) kill the squirrel and manage to stay on the bike.

I hit a squirrel on my last ride while riding about 20 mph on a flat. It happened in about half a second, and barely slowed me down. This sprinting critter flashed from my left and I rolled over him in an instant with both tires as I looked down to see a lot of fur. I actually thought I’d run over a rabbit, since there are cottontails and jackrabbits along the path. I didn’t stop, just kept pedaling. I knew I’d surely just killed or maimed a wild creature that had just turned a mad dash to get across across the bike trail into a suicide.

On the ride back, I saw that it was a gray squirrel that I’d hit and he had been killed instantly at the spot on the trail where he’d been run over by two fast moving bike tires. I was glad that the little guy didn’t suffer, he was done in an instant. And I was really glad the hit didn’t make me crash.

Springtime is the rutting season for the myriad squirrels that cavort along the bike path. And in their panicky frenzy to get some, they become unpredictable darting maniacs that every rider on the trail has seen at some point. I hiss like I’m a snake at ones I see along the trail ahead of me, when they look like they’re thinking about a quick sprint across the trail, in front of the bike. It usually does the trick. I’ve seen other riders sit up and clap their hands to convince the little rascals to flee in the opposite direction.

Before I hit the squirrel, I had a really close call several miles earlier with another one. It was about four or so miles into the ride when a squirrel darted toward my front tire from my right. I just braced for a hit. But he must have stopped about a micron from colliding with the tire and spokes because there was no contact.

These little guys can turn on a dime. One time I followed a couple of riders and saw a squirrel dart across the path in front of them and, upon seeing the shoulder to shoulder riders coming at him, he froze at just the right time as both bikes blew past him on either side. He jumped straight up then scurried in a panic to the other side of the trail as I rode by. I couldn’t believe he didn’t get hit!

A few years ago, I crashed when BUMP, a squirrel was suddenly hit by my front tire on a curving descent of the trail. The bike was leaning to the left on the curved descent when hit tore the handlebars out of my hands, and squirted the front wheel sideways. The bike quickly dropped under me and clattered onto its left side while I was suddenly airborne, arms extended. I landed sideways on my bare left forearm, which skidded me to a stop on the pavement. I got pretty nasty road rash on my arm, but was otherwise OK. The squirrel, which I’m sure didn’t survive, was nowhere to be seen.

I’ve ruined wheel sets twice in attempts to avoid hitting squirrels by inadvertently shoving the heel of my cleat into my rear spokes, knocking the wheel out of round. The first time, the rear wheel was so bent out of round I had to carry the bike to a nearby park and arrange for a ride home. The second time, I was able to ride home on a slightly out of round tire, but after it was trued incorrectly at the bike shop, the battered spoke eventually snapped on another ride. Not fun!

So these suicide squirrels always hold the potential for mayhem. Before this last incident, I’d had a crisp pace and felt good. But after crushing the pretty little bushy tailed critter, and turning him into road kill for some carrion-eating buzzards in the area, I lost the fire to pedal hard for the remaining 33 miles of the ride.  

I knew though, that I had to count my blessings. Hey, the little guy didn’t suffer. I didn’t crash. And I didn’t destroy my wheel set. I wish it hadn’t happened, but it did. And it was over.

I wondered, how I could have thought I hit a rabbit? Hell, if I’d hit a rabbit, it would have been a smash-up. A lot worse.

Other than squirrels and rabbits, I also regularly see deer and wild turkeys wander across the trail. I’m not too worried about hitting a deer. They’re fleet and very skittish. A wild turkey hit also seems a remote possibility. Wild turkeys along the trail are pretty tame, and don’t seem in any hurry when they’re taking up real estate in the bike path and you’re flying toward them on a bike. I’ve seen them sprint and even fly at the last second to get out of the way. I’d never want to hit one, though. It would be an ugly crash and may just injure them badly rather than kill them. Not to mention the potential injuries and mechanical damage from making you crash.

But hey, critter hits are the potential price of riding through a wilderness area. These creatures live here in the wilds, and we cyclists are just annoying missiles flying through their territory. So it’s always a bit of good fortune when rides on this great trail don’t include collisions with any of them – or other riders for that matter!

Leg power comes on strong

I just had a euphoric ride that felt like a harmonic convergence of great conditions. It was warm and sunny, but the air stayed at a cool and refreshing temp throughout. There was no wind, a rarity. I kept well hydrated. And the legs felt extra strong.

I finished my 51-mile ride, which includes about 1,200 feet of climbing, at an 18 mph average. I hadn’t turned in a ride that fast since my birthday six months ago to the day. That day I rode an 18.8 mph average and about five minutes faster. But hell, I’m more than happy whenever I ever break the 18 mph average plateau. For me, it’s hard to do, doesn’t happen often.

I wondered why my legs felt so strong. I just started doing yoga classes again earlier in the week, and had gotten in some great stretches. I’d been doing yoga and pilates regularly for five years, until the end of November, when my long time teacher ended her classes. The more I thought about it, I think the yoga stretching released a lot of tension in my leg muscles and gave them some spring. Maybe yes, maybe no. Future rides will tell.

Til next time, remember to strap on a helmet every time you get on the bike. Then, keep the rubber side down, ride safely and have a blast.

-- Mark Eric Larson

Next stop: The pain cave

When I have about five miles to go on my 51-mile ride and I’m working on a fast time, that’s when I gather forces to muster the most speed I can to finish it out. This is where the cumulative effort of having already ridden a hard 45 miles or so has exacted its toll on the body, so keeping a strong pace at this point takes serious concentration.

Yes, the fatigue has set in, but your brain has pushed that aside and put out the memo to self: Keep a strong pedaling cadence, don’t slow down. If you do, downshift and get your cadence back up to speed. This becomes a mantra of staying the course. You don’t acknowledge fatigue, you just keep the hammer down, and breathe a deep rhythm toward the finishing line.

That single-mindedness starts to blur everything around the clear view of the road ahead. With a twist on what Rod Serling famously said: You’re traveling through another dimension. A dimension not only of sight and sound, but of mind. A journey into a wondrous land whose boundaries are that of imagination. Next stop: The pain cave.

This is the territory where you find out just how fit – or not – you are. You call on all your reserves, your tank is close to empty. On good days, there’s enough energy to get you through with a strong finish and a fast overall time. There’s pain, no doubt, but there’s gain. Ah, good times!

And if at the end I punch in a time that’s slower than I’m shooting for, I’m disappointed, but only for a quick bit. Either way, the steady determined work through the pain cave always pays the dividend of making you a stronger rider. Either way, hurts so good!

Sneak peek times: the big reveal

When I’m on my regular 51-mile out and back near my home, there are two two different spots on the trail, one on the way out and another on the way back, that give me confirmation of one of two things: I’m on a fast pace, or I’m riding with concrete pedals.

They’re sneak peek, cheat sheet indicator times that tell me how hard to ride after I check them. Before I peek at them at designated spots on the trail, I guess whether they’ll confirm I’m riding fast or slow. On the way out, I usually know if I’m riding slower than I’d like. My legs feel heavy, my energy level is a little low, so I guess a slow time, which is anything over 47 minutes.

But, if I’ve felt strong and crisp, I guess a fast time, or 47 minutes or below.

If the slow time is confirmed when I make my sneak peek, I know there’s no need to bust my hump, since there’s no chance for a fast split time.

But if a fast time comes up, I’m pumped up, and I step on it, since that means I can get a good split time if I ride hard the next two miles.

On the way back, it works the same way. Just after the downhill nine-mile split, I sneak a peek at my overall time after three splits. I’ve learned that if it is under two hours, I’ve got a chance for a pretty fast overall time, so hey, keep on it, only 14.5 miles to go. But if it’s a couple minutes or more over two hours, no chance, bro, enjoy the scenery!

You probably have your own sneak peek times, but if not, figure them out, they’ll keep you tuned in to what kind of energy and overall speed you have on the ride. Always interesting to guess what they are before checking them to see if you’re as fast or as slow as you feel. It’s especially fun when I figure I’m going on the slow side, and my sneak peek time shows, uh surprise! I guessed wrong, I’m ripping it up! That’s a charge that lifts the spirits and brings new energy to the legs.

Turkey gobble call… and response!

There’s a lot of wildlife along the trail I ride, and the most amusing to me are the wild turkeys. These birds are big and are often foraging for food in groups, sometimes at the very edge or on the bike trail. I can’t imagine being a turkey hunter. These turkeys aren’t shy, and don’t appear to be too bright, so don’t think they’d be much of stalking challenge for a hunter. They probably amble right up to hunters, want to be buddies. They don’t seem to move too quickly. Still, they can turn on the jets pretty fast. I’ve seen them do a short panic fly to avoid a cyclist, so they’re smart enough to get out of the way of riders.

I like to do my turkey chortle whenever I see them, just for fun. I want to see if I can get a return gobble, or what sounds to me more like a chortle. I don’t know why, but it isn’t easy to get a return chortle from a wild turkey! Up until yesterday, I’d only gotten one after many, many attempts. But yesterday, a big turkey slowly strolled across the bike trail as I approached. I gave it my best loud chortle, and the turkey scooted to the side the path and answered with his own chortle as I rode by! Yes! It was great! I heard the rider behind me laugh out loud. Always nice to have audience appreciation of an ooh so rare performance!

The tom turkeys are out now in the spring-like weather fanning their impressive tail feathers in full regalia, hoping to score with a hen or two. A few times I’ve seen the poor toms in full preen, which is pretty spectacular, while the hens strut past them with a “whatever” lack of interest. The toms are like, “Hey, forget about the bike riders, I’m a pretty boy here, what’s your problem?”

Guilty pleasure

Except for a few days of high winds, the riding conditions in my area of Northern California have been ideal: Sunny, cool air, perfect. But at the same time, we need rain in the valleys and snow in the mountains big time these days because we’re in the middle of a four-year drought. The reservoirs all over the state are far below their normal levels.

While having a snack stop on my ride this week I overheard other riders talk about it.

“It’s a beautiful day to ride,” a woman said to another rider. “But we do need rain.”

“I wasn’t going to say that,” the rider responded. “But it’s true. I think the bottled water companies are going to be making a lot of money when we run out of water.”

“That’s not going to happen,” I said to myself. “They just fill their bottles with a garden hose!”

So we get out and ride in the beautiful weather, making the best of it, feeling a little guilty. We need water. It’s a weird feeling to know that we could actually run out. Here’s a look up to the sky with the hope we don’t.

Never saw that before…

A cyclist passing in the opposite direction riding with one arm in a sling and no helmet. Now that’s confidence.

Til next time, be sure to pull on a helmet every time you get on the bike. Then, keep the rubber side down, ride safely, and have a blast.

-- Mark Eric Larson

Intervals: Pain yes, but gain...

On the 51-mile out and back ride I do as a way to keep the belly fat in check, I have sections I ride through that the fitness gurus call “intervals.”

In a perfect world, intervals are sections of the ride to rip it up and pedal into a sprint to improve cardio and stamina. They’re the sections that mountain bikers get all the time when they have to hit the granny gear and pedal fast just to get up a steep section of trail. Road cyclists usually pace themselves on their climbs because, as is the case on mountain roads, they can go on for long, nasty stretches.

So on my interval sections, which vary in distance and are flat and variously sloped, I force myself to ride as fast as I can. This is a relative thing. The biggest obstacles to getting up to speed can be depleted energy from riding mucho miles, heavy legs from logging a lot of miles in consecutive days and headwinds or sidewinds.

These intervals help spark energy when I’m slowing down on my regular ride. But they pay off, and bring mental toughness and long-ride stamina. If you do a regular ride, throw some intervals into it. That is, if you like pain! But there is gain to be had.

Here’s a play-by-play of the ones I do. I figure it’s therapeutic to share my high-speed pain caves. Hope you can relate!

No. 1: This comes at the approach of a bridge about five miles into the ride. I usually have plenty of energy to tap into here. As I ride onto the upslope of the bridge I pedal hard, looking to hit 20 mph. Some days I do it without much problem. Other days it seems like I’m pedaling concrete blocks to hit that speed.

No. 2: This comes at the end of my first split, which is 14.5 miles of mainly flat riding, with a few hills and rollers thrown in. It’s about 100 yards. It starts with a sharp left, and then continues straight and flat to the end. I gear up to the highest gear on the approach, then stand on it to build cadence. This is usually not too tough because it’s such a short stretch. Thankfully, it’s over pretty fast.

No. 3: This is a flat half-mile stretch along a lake that comes after an easy climb along a bridge and a fast descent. And it’s almost always in a strong wind. I try to get to 20 mph as soon as I can on this stretch, but if there’s a headwind, and there often is, I usually don’t get going that fast until the end. It can be a serious slog to get up to speed. I do the same on the return. Love it when there’s a tailwind either way, since then, making 20 isn’t too tough at all. That’s how I get a quick read of a tailwind. If I’m suddenly flying along with the greatest of ease, I’m thinking, “Hey, my legs are strong! Oh wait…tailwind.”

No. 4: This is stretch is a bear. It comes after a fast descent and is a mile of absolutely flat riding, with cliffs on one side and a lake on the other. Here the wind is almost always in your face or at your back. So if you get a tough headwind going in, you get the tailwind coming back. The wind giveth, and the wind taketh away. But it’s always different. I try to stay as close to 20 mph or higher as I can, but with the mile length and headwind, before long it’s a grunt-fest. I usually start off at the 20-22 mph speed, then it becomes a challenge to see how long I can maintain it. I’ll shift down to keep the cadence high as I tire, but wow, it feels like someone slowly closing off your windpipe. And it finishes with a gradual climb, which is the very next, ugh, interval.

No. 5: In some ways this is the hardest interval of them all. It’s about 100 yards of upslope that isn’t steep, but after pedaling hard against the wind for a mile, sucking air and filling the legs with lactic acid, it’s waiting to finish you off. I shift down into high cadence as it starts to rise and let it rip, with the goal of hitting 19-20 mph. But, wow, that’s a tall order. Hitting 14 mph is hard enough, but to get up to 19 or 20 is a high plateau which I only hit when there’s a tailwind. Usually I get to 16 or 17, and am close to oxygen debt at the top. Ah, good times!

No. 6: This comes close to the finish of the first half of the ride, and is about 100 yards of very gradual climb. In a low gear it’s fairly easy to get up to 20-22 mph at the end of it, and continue on to more gradual climbing. I do it, because it’s a section where it’s easy to be lulled into a slowed down pace that bogs down the overall time.

No. 7: This is the last steep pitch, about 50 yards at the end of the first half, which is preceded by a long gradual climb over about three fourths of a mile. Here, I stand on it in the second lowest gear and try to power through. It’s a hard pull, since it comes after 25 miles of interval-laced riding. I don’t look at my speed, just try to make it with a strong cadence. Now, need food!

Heading back after a rest and food, it’s a lot of fast descending, with challenging return intervals on the Nos. 4 and 3 sections. I don’t do a reverse sprint on the No. 2 interval, which comes when I’m recovering from finishing a 9-mile, mostly downhill split. I try to get a strong approach to the bridge on the reverse of the No. 1 split, but at that point I’m usually sucking wind and grabbing for my water bottle. Any reasonable pace is what I’m trying for. If it’s 14 mph, I’m doing OK, still moving forward!

No. 8: The last 100 yards of the return 14.5 mile split is an all out grunt sprint, and I usually get to 20-22 mph there. After that, there’s an easy does it ride with heavy traffic for the final two miles home.

Ahh, didn’t that ride feel great?

Mountain biker’s revenge

 Let me just say that I used to ride on the nearby paved bike trail – which is best suited for road cyclists – on a mountain bike. So I was used to being passed by roadies all the time. So the other day, I’m trying to ride fast through a stiff headwind on a flat, and I’m working hard, all out. I suddenly hear a high-pitched whine that is a completely unfamiliar sound on this trail. Before I know it, a guy on a motorized mountain bike passes me. What?

This guy figured out a surefire way how not to be passed by roadies or anybody else on this trail. He just hits the gas, and can pass any roadie, even the dudes in the pro peloton. Just wish I had the steam to grab his rear wheel. Not a chance!

Thanks Tom

Tom, riding on a nice Felt bike, stopped to check if I was OK recently when my rear tire flatted. I had all I needed, including my hard won knowledge on how to put in a new tube without puncturing it. But Tom hung out and chatted as I got the tire back in shape. And hey, it was nice! Thanks Tom and to all the several other riders who offered help.

Til next time, remember to strap on a helmet every time you get on the bike. Then keep the rubber side down, ride safely and have a blast.

-- Mark Eric Larson