Cycling and Other Pastimes

Tag: biking

  • Cherry Creek Time Trial #1

    I’d been planning and training for the Karen Hornbostel Memorial Time Trials since early this winter. Back in December I’d finally put my old Schwinn Homegrown hardtail into retirement and at long last switched my indoor training bike to the VanDessel Hellafaster, a legitimate drop bar racing frame that had been hanging in the garage for far too long, awaiting a purpose. I purchased some time trial bars and a Fizik TT saddle so I could practice pedaling in an aero position while indoors because, previous to this year, I hadn’t had any experience riding all low and stretched out like that. So glad I spent some time training this way because I’ve really come to appreciate just how much faster you actually can go when you are tucked and out of the wind.

    Hellafaster indoor trainer

    There were a few stretches of warm weather where I could ride outside and practice down in the park, but it had been a long winter and, between work and a bout of the flu, I hadn’t exactly stuck to my ambitious training plan. I had, however, just completed a rigorous three day gravel adventure in the desert the week before (see prior Grand Staircase post) and felt good about my general condition and stamina. Not that any of that really mattered. I signed up for this seven-week race series just for fun and to see how well I would do compared to the rest of the field. Of course, it’s a race, so there’s always a little pressure. My main goal for this first trial was to NOT GET PASSED. Other than that, I figured my time would be a baseline that I could try to improve on over the course of the remaining six races. (Five really, since I’ll be out of town for one of them.)

    My number for the season. I had to sign up for a USA Cycling Membership to take part in this series of races.

    My designated start time is 6:11 p.m. so on race day I brought my bike and my kit to work and was able to change afterwards and head right to the park. I also took some time during the day to wrap the somewhat slippery TT extension bars with bar tape which made such a big difference in feel and grip. It immediately made me much more comfortable and secure on the bike.

    My ride

    I made it to the park in plenty of time for a nice leisurely warm up in the late afternoon sun. We couldn’t have asked for better conditions. It was in the mid-70’s with light winds and blue skies – a perfect race day. The Smoky Hill parking lot was packed with vehicles and bikes. Riders in skinsuits and aero helmets were warming up their legs, cruising up and down the lot like sharks, coasting effortlessly at slow speed, their power in reserve for now. Some riders had rollers set up beside their vehicles so they could warm up right there, just like the Tour de France teams do. Other than watching the TDF I had never seen so many beautiful bikes in one place before. Not surprisingly, all these men and women looked super fit as well. Apparently, I wasn’t the only one who had been doing some winter training. It made me very curious how I’d fare in such an elite looking crowd.

    After fiddling with my race number and getting it stuck to my jersey, I got on the bike and started warming up a bit myself. I rode down and talked to the old guys running the registration tent, thanked them for all the work they’d done with this race series. Their club is called the Cobras. They’re all volunteers and they really have their act together. This event is very well-organized.

    After chatting with the Cobras for a bit I still had plenty of time so next I rode over to the starting line to see how that all worked. There were a few volunteers there under a canopy keeping things moving, keeping the cyclists organized. A digital clock right by the starting line showed the exact time and one of the volunteers gave a count down to the rider while the other volunteer held the seat of the bike so the rider could get clipped in and ready to launch at time zero. The starting line was actually on a hundred yard incline so I was curious what gear everyone was starting out in. It was looking like they all had to grind pretty hard to get up to speed on that first hill. This was how I had planned to start too, so it was reassuring to see some of these more experienced racers taking this approach.

    I rode around a while longer, ate a fig bar, drank the rest of my salty drink and then rode back up to get in the queue at 6, 11 minutes before my start time. It was a blast to watch the folks in front of me starting every 30 seconds, tearing up the hill and around the first bend in the road. When my time came I rolled up to the line, one of the gentlemen stabilized my bike and I got clipped in and ready. I got a 10 count and stood up in the pedals for the last 3, 2, 1, GO! And I was off.

    Waiting to go!

    I stayed out of the saddle for the first hill and then got into a tuck and stayed there for the duration of the ride. This is where practice paid off. The course itself is 9.7 miles long and so it’s not possible to sprint the entire time. Not for me anyway. It’s more a matter of riding as hard as possible but still pacing to finish strong with every last bit of energy. You know that feeling when you have pushed so hard that you feel like you’re on the edge of nausea? That’s what I was shooting for when I came across the finish line. Fortunately for me, I live right by the park and ride these roads all the time. Every climb and turn, every bump and crack on the road is part of an inner map in my brain. I think I could almost ride this course with my eyes closed and this really helped with pacing.

    I didn’t have my eyes closed of course, but the race itself was a blur. I was focused on the road 10 feet in front of me, on my breathing, on keeping tucked and comfortable, on my cadence and keeping a smooth pedal stroke, on shifting right at the right times as the hills and mild wind affected my speed. Most of all I was focused on PASSING THE GUY IN FRONT OF ME. It is such a good motivator when I have someone to chase. Of course, I was also concerned about getting passed, as I had seen some young guys in the start queue behind me that looked like they could smoke me if I wasn’t careful.

    I reached the turnaround and felt good. As I did a 180 turn and headed back east I passed the young guys coming the other way and was reassured that I still had a good gap on them. It would be very hard to catch me unless I really tanked in the last few miles. On the other hand I didn’t seem to be closing the gap with the guy in front of me. I brought focus back to myself and tried to increase my speed. My bike felt good, felt fast. I flew through this flat, straight part of the course and approached the ascent on the northeast side of the park knowing it would be a grind, but I fought through it and kept good speed up and into the intersection, getting a wave-through by the cop who was helping direct cars and bikes. Now, a little straightaway before a fast descent. This is where the aero frame and wheels on the Cannondale really shine. I shifted to top gear and tried to max out my cadence with about a mile to go. Before I knew it I was at the roundabout by the lake and then approaching the final climb before the finish. Lo and behold I had gained time on the cyclist in front of me. The gap closed even more as he started up that last hill and I knew I had him. I think I heard him groan when I passed him. Sorry dude. I rounded the final corner and was up and out of the saddle, cranking as hard as I could over the finish line. Woohoo! I was sucking wind and slightly nauseous, but very happy.

    It was a short coast downhill back to the truck where I unceremoniously put the bike on the rack and got ready to head home. I realized that, in the excitement of the start, I had forgotten to reset my bike computer so I had no idea what my actual time was. The finish line ref would post times on the Cobra website at some point but, in the meantime, I was happy that I gave it my all. That was enough for the time being.

    When times were posted the following day I saw I had ridden the course in 26:17.7. This was minutes faster than any of my practice runs earlier in the spring. I had also set not one, not two or three but a total of four Personal Best times on various segments of the course. Given how often I ride those roads I was kind of shocked at that, but I think this is where staying in that tucked aero position makes such a difference.

    So, there you have it, my first time trial race. I feel like I set a good baseline for myself and hopefully I can get my time under 25 minutes by the end of the series. I just bought a fancy aerodynamic front tire for the bike and that alone should save me a couple seconds! The rest will have to come from grit and determination.

    Can’t buy that.

  • Bikepacking the Grand Staircase

    For spring break this year my plan was to head to Grand Staircase in Utah with the goal of cycling a four day, 150 mile loop through the monument. In mid-March the weather over that way could be great or it could mean I’d have to scuttle plans at the last minute. I knew it would be cold at night regardless, but rain and snow during or prior to the trip would mean part of this loop would turn into mud the consistency of wet cement and make it impassible. As I planned and got gear ready, I kept a careful eye on the forecast and it looked like I would have a good weather window if I left on Tuesday.

    I would not go hungry on the drive.

    So, after a last day of administrative schoolwork on Monday I got the truck set up for camping, packed everything I’d need and made a bunch of PB&J’s for the road. Tuesday morning I got going while it was still dark in Denver, hoping to skirt past a snowstorm in the mountains. The drive that day was pleasantly uneventful, and I made it over to Escalante in the middle of the afternoon just in time for a lovely lunch at Escalante Outfitters. Outside, the wind was gusting to 65 mph but was forecast to die down later that evening. I kept my fingers crossed.

    On the road to Escalante

    After lunch I met a woman outside the Outfitters who had been bikepacking that day in the crazy wind. I truly couldn’t believe she could keep her bike upright in those conditions. She seemed unfazed by it though and was nice enough to sell me one of her spare inner tubes as I had forgotten to pack mine. We chatted for a while and then I got back in the truck and drove out into the desert.

    Camp the first night was a spot I found about 9 miles south of town at the intersection of Smoky Mountain Road and Death Ridge, 70 miles north of Big Water, the small town which sat at the the south end of my loop. This first night would be the coldest night of the trip, with temperatures getting down to 20 degrees or so. Even with the heated mattress pad and my down bag I was a little chilly, but managed to get good sleep before my big first day on the bike.

    Death Ridge would not be the death of me. Not quite.

    Bedroom and breakfast nook in the 4Runner

    Packed and ready for day one

    It was cold the next morning as I made coffee and packed up everything on the bike, but I knew I’d warm up quickly when I started riding and the sun got higher in the sky. I brought a bunch of activated charcoal foot warmers along on this trip which I put in my bike shoes every morning and also in my down booties at night. Warm feet just make for happy times.

    Usually, before a trip like this, I practice packing everything at home and then weigh the bike, fully loaded, just to have an idea what I’ll be dealing with. This time though, with five and a half liters (12 pounds)of water on top of everything else I’d need for a solo trip in the desert, I decided it was best not to know. My best guess is the whole rig weighed close to 80 pounds. Yikes.

    Future tumbleweed

    Finally, fully packed and just before 10 a.m., hot coffee and a fig bar in my belly, I started south into the desert. Having looked over my maps the night before, I decided I was going to try to do the loop in three days, not four, mainly due to the scarcity of water on the route. This would mean 50 mile days with a heavy bike and 12,000 feet of climbing along the way. If I got too gassed at some point, I could camp an additional night, but I was feeling good that first morning and started out with determination and confidence.

    Last Chance Creek

    That first day I was able to ride south about 47 miles through rugged terrain. Little punchy climbs and descents were the norm as the road varied from packed dirt to gravel to 4-wheel drive conditions. Scrubby juniper trees were common in that part of the monument along with small cacti and creosote bushes. Nothing grew tall. This plant life was tough and there to endure. About 30 miles in I passed Last Chance Creek and topped up my water. It never got above 50 degrees that first day on the bike and as the sun got lower in the sky the temperature started dropping fast. My campsite that night was on top of a high bluff overlooking Lake Powell in the distance. It was dead quiet. I’d seen a total of two vehicles all day.

    Actively trying to be abducted by aliens

    Keeping the cleats free of mud

    Day two started early. It typically takes me an hour and a half to get ready in the morning, which may seem like a long time, but here’s what needs to happen: Coffee first, obviously. Boiling water on the Jetboil only takes a few minutes. I love that thing. It’s small and light and has never failed me. This time I brought along some bougie instant coffee I found while waiting in line at REI. (In the spot where they display all the overpriced impulse purchase items.) What a pleasant surprise though. It was delicious and it came in single serving packets so I didn’t even need to measure. I drank it black and it was perfect with blueberry fig bars for breakfast. (Hashtag fig bar life.)

    Camp kitchen

    Next: packing. Bikepacking sometimes seems like it’s mostly about packing. Almost everything gets packed and unpacked every day. For this trip, with cold night temperatures, down sleeping bag, down pants, down booties, down jacket were essential, and they all go in their separate compression packs. Camping pad gets deflated, pillow deflated, tent torn down and put in handlebar bag, food packed away, hydration pack filled, teeth brushed, bathroom break, clean and lube chain (once a day religiously), foot warmers in (heck yeah), helmet on, gps started…ok…hello day two.

    The ride down into the Lake Powell basin is breathtaking. It’s 10 miles of downhill on hard-packed clay, some of the easiest miles on this trip. I kept stopping to take pictures as the view changed around each corner. The rocky cliffs varied in color from yellow to red to gray with sedimentary layers stacked one on top of the other. As I flew down the road I thought about the eons that went into forming this ancient landscape and the little blip that is my lifetime. The desert is humbling. It cares not.

    A bunch of pictures below from this section…

    I got to Big Water at lunchtime. The ranger station there had a sign on the door “back at 12:30” so I topped off water in the restroom (and left some water behind as well). I met a guy from Alaska who was very curious about my bike setup. He was on vacation from his job as a bus driver in Denali National Park. A nice couple from Maine also stopped to talk to me for a few minutes and knew the small town I grew up in.

    Eventually the ranger got back and I asked her about road conditions on the way back north. She had no clue, but made a couple calls for me and I was eventually told I might encounter some mud on Death Ridge because it had snowed a bit on Tuesday night and it may not have all dried out yet. At this point there was one way back though, so I headed out, hoping by the next afternoon that things would be dry. The rest of the ride on day two was uneventful except for five miles of intermittent sand dunes. Ever wonder what it would be like to push an 80 pound bike up a steep sand dune and then push it up another one and then another one for a couple hours? It sucks just as bad as you think it would. I was feeling pretty gritty and pretty spent afterwards, but still only at mile 80.

    The toughest cottonwood tree on the block

    Fortunately, the rest of the road that day was hard-packed clay and I found a nice little camping spot by a babbling brook in Cottonwood Canyon right around mile 100, just where I wanted to end up before my final big day.

    Campsite on Cottonwood Creek

    Two days in and I was tired, but there was a tough day of climbing ahead of me so I planned on getting up an hour earlier the next morning to ensure I could get back to the truck by nightfall. I’d ridden 7 hours the first day, 8 the second and with all the climbing (and tired legs) I knew the final push might take even longer. Plus, in the back of my mind I was worried about the road conditions. If I encountered mud it could make life complicated.

    Day two ended with not one but two freeze dried dinners which served the dual purpose of supplying calories for the final day and making my burden a little lighter besides. Before I went to sleep that night I stood outside and looked up into the crystal-clear sky with the Milky Way blazing bright overhead. I’m glad we understand things about the distant universe, but sometimes I wish I didn’t know that the stars are what they are. Sometimes I wish they were just a mystery painted on the night sky.

    An auspicious start to day three

    Day three started early, as planned. I was on the road at 8:30 or so with more beautiful scenery and excellent dry clay roads for the first 20 miles or so. I passed Grosvenor Arch and stopped for a picture and a snack. This is the biggest arch feature in Staircase. It also sits right in the middle of the monument so it’s not exactly easy to get to. No one was there. There are parts of Bryce and Zion where you have to wait in line to take a picture. This was not that.

    Grosvenor Arch

    After the arch, the road started getting rougher. I passed a couple cowboys on horses driving a herd of cattle and they looked perplexed and amused to see someone on a bike. They asked me where I was heading and if I had enough water, the perennial question in that landscape.

    Rougher and rougher. Finally, I made it to Death Ridge Road, the last 25-mile stretch. Here, the climbs got steeper and the rocks on the road got bigger, going from the size of an egg to the size of a baby’s head, but no mud to speak of thank goodness. I got to a point where I had to hike the bike up most of the inclines and even down some of the descents, but eventually made it to the high point and took a moment to savor my victorious ascent – a bit too soon.

    It had been slow going and was late in the day. There were still 10 miles to go but it was mostly downhill, so I felt I was in good shape to finish strong. However, as I got back on the bike and rode around a bend, I realized this last 10 miles might be trickier than I had planned. There was four inches of snow in spots; unrideable on my 47mm tires. And then I came upon it: where snow had recently melted, mud. Thick, deep, cement-like mud which instantly caked my tires and my shoes and made each step five pounds heavier. The mud got so thick on my tires that it lodged in my bike frame. My tires would literally not roll. 10 miles to go and I could barely move. Above me, the sun dropped below the high canyon wall and the cold started to creep into my wet feet as I fought to clear mud from tires and frame over and over again.

    Miles of this.

    But, as always, after an endless slog, the conditions improved. The road finally dried out and I got to enjoy a last long downhill coast, getting back to the truck with just a little daylight to spare, 11 hours after I had started out that morning.

    And there was even a delicious peanut butter and jelly sandwich waiting for me.

    The end.

  • Almost Time for Time Trials!

    After several years of wishing I had the availability to race in the Karen Hornbostel Memorial Time Trial at Cherry Creek State Park, this year I had the epiphany that I’M THE ONE WHO BUILDS THE TEACHING SCHEDULE EACH TERM! Duh. With this in mind I ran my classes a little earlier in the day so I can get over to the park in time to take part in the race. Very exciting.

    Of course, it’s never that simple, right?

    This time trial series runs seven weeks in the spring, on Wednesday evenings. It’s an official USA Cycling event and part of the Rocky Mountain Road Cup calendar. As such I needed to register as a USA Cycling member. I’m happy to support this organization, but the fee seemed a bit steep. Still, I couldn’t help but feel kind of proud to have my very own USA Cycling Licence number.

    After that there was the bike. I had spent some time this fall building up the Cannondale SystemSix frame with an Ultegra groupset and had been riding it quite a bit until the weather got wintery. I love the deep dish wheels on this bike. It cuts through the air really well and just feels fast. Here’s a shot of her down in Cherry Creek State Park, my default ride if I’m just headed out from the house for an hour or so:

    The bike would have been fine to ride as-is in the KHMTT series but, I really wanted to modify things a bit so I could get into a more aero position for the races. I’ll be honest, I think the handlebars on the SystemSix are not even rated for clamp-on extensions but I found these bars made by ENVE that seemed like they might work and I took a chance and bought them on backorder. And so two months later they finally arrived and I spent the morning today fiddling with them and getting them set up on the bike. They were not a perfect fit to the KNOT handlebar on the SystemSix but I used some foam tape on the top side of the mounts and cut up an innertube to sit in between the mount and the bar on the bottom side. When I torqued things up it seemed very solid so hopefully the whole thing doesn’t explode when I take it out for a ride.

    Since this bike has the Ultegra Di2 wireless group I also found some remote shifter buttons that installed nicely on the ends of the bars. Slick!

    Still need to wrap them with bar tape and probably make some adjustments after I ride the bike a while. That will have to wait for now though. The high is supposed to be 10 degrees tomorrow. Ugh. C’mon spring!

  • New Track Pump

    I’ll admit I’ve spent way too much time reading reviews of bike tires. I have experimented ad infinitum with tubeless tire pressures in relation to various width tires and various road surfaces and I know a couple pounds of pressure one way or the other can make a big difference in the feel and handling of a tire that is all of an inch wide. The reality is, tires are the most important part of the bike, not only from a safety standpoint–you have two small patches of rubber in contact with the road when you’re flying down that mountain at 40+ miles per hour after all–but from a performance, handling and comfort standpoint as well. If you are tuned into your bike to the point where it feels like an extension of your body then being mindful about tire pressure is just part of the zen.

    And so, last week I finally got fed up with the seven year old Bontrager track pump I’ve been using. It had been leaking air for months and, though I had spent some time and effort trying to troubleshoot it, nothing fixed the issue.

    It was putting a kink in my zen.

    The Bontrager and I had seven good years together, yes. But it was an expensive pump and I really felt like it should have been designed to be repaired. Now it will wind up as one more piece of junk on our giant 21st century American garbage heap. It’s not even about the money, it’s about the fact that the decision-makers at some corporation decided it was ok to design something where a single point of failure (in this case probably a $0.10 gasket that is not replacable) will render the entire thing useless.

    Those guys just piss me off.

    All this to describe what led up to the purchase of what will no doubt be the last track pump I will ever buy.

    Behold the Silca SuperPista Ultimate in all her glory:

    This is now, hands-down, the nicest tool in my shop. I won’t go into every detail, but it’s obvious that a lot of thought and care was put into the design of this pump. The base is heavy cast zinc, the hose is braided stainless steel, the handle is turned purpleheart wood, the rest is machined aluminum with a steel chuck. No plastic! The guage is factory calibrated to 1% accuracy and every non-wear part is covered by a 25-year warranty. Also, just in case you were wondering, yes, it is completely rebuildable. But, honestly, I can’t imagine any part of this pump ever failing. It’s built like a tank.

    Plus, the thing is freaking gorgeous.

    Maybe this is a bit decadent. Do I need a pump this nice? Clearly no. But it is something I use almost every day and now, instead of a leaky piece of junk that made me frustrated at the start of each ride, I can actually enjoy the few minutes it takes to pump up the tires because I’m using a well-designed tool that wasn’t built to be thrown in the trash in a few years. In fact, I’m sure the Silca pump will outlive me.

    Now I just need to figure out who will inherit her when I take that last big bike ride in the sky.