Road Fangs

Along the line of the recent “sweatpants” anecdote, I want to update about the circumstance of my Saturday, March 1 ride. This one took me along Nelson Road to highway 36 and the mouth of Lefthand canyon. On a good day with fair weather I can get to the canyon in about 45 minutes. With the strong winds on this ride I made it in 50 minutes. I proceeded up Lefthand to James canyon and turned around at what I call the “paved summit”, as there is a definite point before which the climbing is continuous, and after which the road begins to roll up and down before it turns to gravel and eventually connects with the peak-to-peak highway. I reached this point two hours and four minutes into my three hour ride.

The interesting part of this summation is not in the details of the route but in the thoughts scrolling through my head as I rode. As it happens during most of my early season rides but especially in the wind, it felt like I was going backwards along Nelson road. However, one judgment of my perceived ability is the number of other riders I am either passed by or whom I pass. Along this section and especially in the canyon all the way to Jamestown I realized that I must have gone by about 30 other riders without anyone catching or passing me. A person has to do what they can to motivate themselves, and making it my goal to “beat” as many other (probably casual) riders as possible was helpful. Looking ahead to other riders I estimated their pace and attempted to calculate how long it would take me to catch them. At no point did I feel the usual labor of keeping a decent pace on a climb. Usually I get to a point fairly early where I can’t keep the same rhythm and I have to back off. On this day I seemed to increase my pace with every person I caught. To continue this motivating force I imagined myself to be at the head of a peloton, catching riders from failed breakaways. I let this one continue to the point where I was imagining myself as the head of a snake, attacking the riders ahead. Soon I was imaging myself as that snake, with my (here’s where the thought scroll comes in) “legs as fangs, stabbing the pavement and injecting my power, read “venom”, into the road and into the other riders as I passed them by”. I was laughing to myself about this as I was thinking it, but I’m sure the families riding with their children and the old men’s club riders who witnessed my venomous abilities firsthand were not laughing.

Arriving at and then passing Jamestown however, changed my tune. This part of the road becomes much more steep and eventually turns to switchbacks before the summit. It isn’t the steepest road around, but compared with the ascent to Jamestown it takes a different kind of riding to do it well. I often have a mental block when I get to sections like this, because I am not the greatest mountain goat and my riding buddies often leave me behind at sections like these. Most of the riders who ride the James canyon stop at Jamestown, so there were no other riders this day for me to spot ahead to motivate my continued fast pace. I had definitely let off some steam and was merely thinking about getting through it, not “winning” it. At around the second to last switchback I looked back to see a rider who had fangs at the ready and on pace to catch me before the summit. I was thinking that this would be a shame, since no one else caught me all day, but I wasn’t feeling like I could hold him off. I put in a good hard effort at the last switchback though, and managed to arrive about 30 seconds ahead of him. Had the “paved summit”, or my turnaround point not been so close I’m sure he would have caught up to me. It was somewhere in Jamestown, I think, where one of my fangs must have broken off in the road, and I was lucky to salvage this unbeaten ride.

The image here is of my Tarmac. One can see that I don’t wash bicycles after every ride in the winter.

Hall Ranch in February

On Sunday, February 24th I rode the Niner at Hall Ranch. This is the third ride and the second legitimate mountain ride on this bike. I got started a bit into the afternoon. It was sunny and approaching 60 degrees when I left. Something was rolling in because it was spitting rain off and on about halfway into my ride. The photo indicates a bit of the mud I got into. I’d rather not trash a trail if I can help it, so I turned around at the upper loop without riding it because it looked like slop. I did ride the antelope connector trail though, and that’s where most of this stuff came from.

To borrow terminology from another rider I crossed paths with, my technical riding that day was ugly. Thankfully it is only February and I have time to get good again. I was never flawless on the technical approach to Hall Ranch anyway, being that this is not my home turf and I’ve ridden there only infrequently. I didn’t feel like the kind of superstar I had hoped on the new bike, especially when I was grinding some chainring teeth down on a rock. That felt like it looked. I have yet to get fully accustomed to riding the big wheels. I don’t know how far I can push it in the corners nor how much more easily it rolls over the rough. I did notice the tendency for the front wheel to try to flop over to one side or the other when it was precariously perched on the high point of a rock or when some leverage was being put against it in this same situation. Everything is stable to a point, but when it lets go it goes farther, having the larger wheels. This is an early observation; I’ll see how it holds up. As far as fitness, there was the requisite early season slowness to contend with. I think my near four hour ride last weekend outdid anything I could do to myself during this short hour and a half. There were the obvious leg pains especially on the grinder sections, but I never felt out of my element. I wasn’t killing it, either, as some guys who came up to the loop behind me appeared to be doing. This is February. There is plenty of time to get into the red zone before racing begins. Right now I’m concentrating on building up some endurance but even more importantly just getting out there with even as little as once a week consistency. I’d like to be putting in three days on the bike, but that is so dependent on weather, light, and perceived time that it isn’t happening. I was getting into a rhythm of at least doing a trail run or some type of run once a week also. But there was that weird sharp pain in the middle of the outer part of my foot… weak excuse, or is it important to listen to your body and avoid injury? I’d rather work in the studio and be healthy for the entire season than lay it out in February and damage something that takes months to heal. Anyway, I’m glad I got out on the mountain bike. Maybe I can take it in to get the fork and bars cut down and the cables shortened. It seems like the riding position is comfortable and my cables are stretching out enough. The guys at Blue Sky wanted to be sure no one knew they put this bike together until after the hydraulics were cut back. Everything got longer when Rob shortened the head tube stack so things look a little goofy for now.

Anecdote: sweatpants story

I never updated these pages with the other rides I’ve been doing. I don’t know that I want to get into full details, but the ride I did two weekends ago comes with a good story. It was the longest this season by over an hour and incorporated the most climbing. I was trying to go slow and steady and get through it. My favorite part was riding up near Pinewood reservoir. There was this funny little guy wearing sweatpants and a walkman (yes, tapes) riding a rigid mountain bike outfitted with a handlebar bag (into which he put the walkman) and some odd assortment of other bags or something on the rear fender rack. He was standing up the entire time (appropriate for certain parts of a climb) in a low gear. I couldn’t seem to catch up to him. He looked like I should catch him, but without really trying to motor up there, my pace was about the same as his. I doubt he had been riding for an hour and a half already, but even that isn’t much time in the scope of things. When I was nearing the summit (nearing it, but not really all that close - there was probably a good half mile or more to go) he up and turned around. He passed by me and I nodded salutation. A second or two later his brakes squealed to a halt and he turned around. Sure enough, he’s riding right past me. I nod again, smiling. He is proud. I let him go, but I want so badly to catch up to him and smear the fun out of his ride like I should be able to do. But this is the fourth week and the fourth ride of my pathetic early season. As much as I try to edge up my pace, I can’t seem to do it. I’m not going to mash pedals for this guy; I should be able to catch him just by putting out a decent effort. But clearly my funny little riding buddy has me schooled. The next time I see him he is way up front. There is no way I’m catching him. I get to the top while he is putting on his jacket and readjusting his headphones. He beams his excellence and I wave my defeat. That is the last I see of him. I feel defeated. I eat something, but it doesn’t do much to energize me. I know what’s happening; I’m beginning to bonk. This hasn’t happened for a few years. I’ve pushed myself a bit too hard for this early. But after my descent I decide to reascend the back side of Carter Lake because I might as well leave it all out there and I don’t like the scenery and the boring road the other way around the reservoir. This doesn’t help, because 30 minutes before I get home I am reeling. I can think of nothing but food, imagining everything my kitchen has to offer. The little puffs off wind are likely to blow me over. I can’t believe I’m still on the bike. When I get home I take my stinky self to the kitchen and make a Nutella appetizer before having a turkey sandwich, balancing through a shower, and committing myself to what must have been a four day nap.

The other rides on previous weekends were not as interesting as this, but also quite rewarding for having done them and reminding myself about the cycling season to come.

The First Ride

The build-up of the Niner Air 9 was complete Friday afternoon, January 25. I picked it up at Blue Sky and Rob finished the bike fit. There are still some adjustments to be made (stem height, bar length) but the bike was ready to go by 6:00.

The first official ride of the Mapping Project occurred late Saturday. The weather was warm for January, a bit windy but rideable. The trails at Rabbit Mountain were dry where they faced south and where they avoided the path of melting snow. The spur section was quite muddy in some sections of the back half (since the slope faces north) but in every case I rode the center of the trail to avoid trail-widening. There were a handful of other riders out, all happy to take advantage of the temperature.

Ride details: From the Rabbit Mountain trailhead to the Eagle Wind Trail (a 2 mile loop) ccw. Back toward the trailhead to the Little Thompson Overlook Trail (2 miles out-and-back), returning to the Eagle Wind Trail cw. Return to the trailhead. Approximately 8 miles and 1:20 by the end. Slow to moderate pace due to fitness but more so to trail condition and persistent swollen arm (which vibrated uncomfortably on the downhills). The bike rides differently than what I’m used to, but for having been properly fit on the bike by Rob it was very comfortable. The bars are a bit wide feeling still. The fork needed a bit more air pressure. The front derailleur acts as a mud shelf (the action sits directly in front of the rear wheel). Tires functioned well considering snow and slush terrain. Brakes have not “set-in” and are not at full stoppage. Angle of brake levers and shift levers need to be rotated downward. Because of my slower speeds I didn’t get to fully test the cornering capability of the bike. I have also not ridden Rabbit Mountain before, so I can’t really compare the rollover or contact patch differences of the 29er yet on this terrain. Once I ride Betasso, Heil and Hall I should get a better idea of the differences from the 26″.

Since Rabbit Mountain BCPOS didn’t exist in 1980 when my topo was made, I had to draw the trail by hand following the contours as closely as I could. Right now it is such a small area that one would probably not even notice it to look at the map. I still have to work out just what it is that I hope to record on the map and what I will record by hand or on this blog. I’m thinking I’ll draw dashed lines for mountain rides and solid lines for road rides. The map is going to get cluttered if I retrace the route every time I ride it, but I’d still like to indicate how often I ride a particular trail or road. The other thing I haven’t figured out yet is how to indicate the direction of travel, since it could differ even during the same ride. I could probably color code everything, but I am interested in simply seeing the location and distance of the rides and not overly complicating them to the point the route becomes illegible. I guess a fancy key could help. Or tracing paper.

I meant to ride Sunday afternoon which was even warmer than Saturday, but instead I spent the day replacing a burst water spigot (found that one out while I was trying to get the mud off the bike post ride). Regarding washing, are the disk brakes going to squeal like that every time? And how long does that last? Sorry, I have been a V-braker for 12 years; this is new for me.

The Purchase of Maps

On January 23 I purchased four topographic maps from the Boulder Map Gallery. Earlier in the week I had obtained a nice map of Boulder county on tear-proof and water-proof “paper”. While this is a beautiful map and quite functional, I wanted something that would allow me to write and draw on it. Enter the U.S. Geological Survey maps. These are a bit dated (I think mine were made in the late 70’s and early 80’s) but I like the look of them. I will have to update some of the roads and trails that don’t appear on these maps, but this is something that will allow me to put the newest map to good use as a cross reference. I have Boulder county, Larimer county north and south, and Jefferson county north. This should cover the majority of my rides this spring.

Ride Mapping Project

As part of Kim Dickey’s Graduate Ceramics Seminar and after Ilya Kabakov’s The Palace of Projects, I have decided to make ride mapping a part of my Book of Projects. This is inspired by the notion of making my work and my life more closely aligned, a sentiment borrowed from Alvin Gregorio.

Regarding the bike, I have been riding seriously for about 17 years and competitively for 16. Until recently I had reservations about making work related to cycling. I have not previously seen them in relation to each other. But what I am intrigued by is the possibility of increasing work production by incorporating what I already do into a new context. While I have never exactly mapped training and recreational rides I have at least recorded routes taken and times of completion since 1995. I don’t want this project to supplant my training records, but out of curiosity I’d like to see where I go, recorded visually. There are formats for mapping rides online, but I am not interested in them. I want to look at a topographical map and find the routes I’ve traveled on it. I’d like to see how many of my previous routes I can cover in the short space of this project and over the period of this spring (with room to continue indefinitely). I’m not yet sure how I will mark the map or record the number of times a particular route is taken, but with this single document I think my motivation to ride will increase along with the markations.

A great part of this motivation to see my rides in the space of one map is the soon-to-be-had addition to my stable, the Niner Air 9 in Kermit green. This will be my first new mountain bike in 10 years. The last was my Schwinn Homegrown from 1997, a bike which received upgraded and new parts save for the stem and (obviously) the frame during my time with it. This bike has been no slouch, recently taking me to the 1st overall position last season in the Men’s B division of the Boulder Short track Cross Country mountain bike series. But ten years is a long time, not just to hammer a bike, but to wait patiently for a new one. I am somehow skipping the purchase of a full suspension rig, something I have been thinking about since 1992. I suppose the purity of hardtail racing and the extra challenge of racing against supposedly better equipped riders is motivating me. I have heard so much about 29er bikes that I can’t wait to be on one myself. I hope this new bike is as much fun to ride as the 29er crowd has been promoting.

My rides will not be limited to the Air 9 however, as much of my early season riding happens on my Specialized Tarmac. At this point I will not be including my commute, especially when it is broken up by a bus ride. If I do get back to making the 15 mile commute by bike only I might include it, but I haven’t done that since October or November 2006.

The bike should have all of its parts by January 22, and I will wait for the shop to call when it is completely built up. I will do my final fitting on it and then it will be mine. The next step is to look for a good map of the area. I’ve never been in it, but there is a map store along my route home I have wanted to visit. I’m thinking I can find a good one of Boulder county, which should account for the majority of my rides. I will likely need one for Larimer and Jefferson counties as well. Having spent 15 or 16 years riding in Larimer county, I would like to get to some of my favorite trails and roads this spring to allow this map to account for some of those experiences.