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