Monday 28 July 2008

Rolling Thunder

Nope. This is not another weather related post.

It seems that the fates have turned their gaze away from me, as of late, and are focused on some other poor soul (God - or some other extra-dimensional, omnipresent, omnipotent being - help the sap). My foot has healed and I've managed to get some decent mileage in despite two typhoons this month. I've even managed a couple of Wednesday night training races.

Sunday, I started my ride from my wife's parents' place out in the county and headed directly into the mountains for some climbing. A slightly overcast day kept the temps down a bit and there was only a small breeze. This was shaping up to be a good one.

I spun my way up the longer beginning section of the first climb for 30 minutes or so until I hit the steeper grades that make up the last third of this climb. Once up and over I did the screaming descent down, through the low lying clouds, to the foot of the bigger climb I wanted to do. This is an out and back course for me so every km I ride out means I will have to ride it back, too.

I settled into a pretty snappy rhythm for the first section of the climb. I thought I'd do about 1 hour of this climb and then double back. I've been dropping weight and getting fitter again but I am certainly not at the point where I can turn 5 hours into 6 and not have it trash me for a few days (I also do distance on Tuesdays so, at this point, I want to be recovered by then so I can do 4 hours as well).

The roads were empty and I kept climbing. The rhythm was there so I just kept taping it out. Wattage and heart rate were all manageable as I rode into the clouds.

I rode until I was at 1 hour for this climb. It was a great day and I still felt pretty good. I convinced myself to do a few more minutes and then turn around. I was a little concerned that I'd run out of jam. I still had a long descent down but then I had one more short (590m elevation gain) but steep (pitches of 13-14%! with tons of 8-10%) climb left to do. This is the climb that always gives me the reality check. After that one there is still 30km left to ride.

As I was contemplating this I broke through the cloud layer and was now in light cloud and sun. I was at about 850m so the temps weren't too bad. I also knew that I was only 5km or so from the top. Hell, I thought, I really hate turning around before I summit (almost exactly 1000m) so I decided to finish up.

And that I did. I stopped for 5 minutes to get water and a coke and have a nature break, then I zipped up and did the 25 minutes of screaming, twisting, uber technical descending that is par for the course around here. I had to be careful in a few of the sections as there was still small sections of the mountain that had slid down during the last typhoon. The roads had been cleared (a single lane) but there was still dirt, rocks and bits of tree trunks strewn around.

I got to the bottom and hung the hard left that took me directly into the last climb. Bang! 10%. Tap, tap. I kept it going. My legs didn't feel too bad. Slam it into the apex at 13%, out of the saddle, up, up up, sit, shift and tap, tap tap. And repeat several times. Not bad. Huh.

This climb is tough because it comes after a long descent and is steep right away. After a few kms, though, the grade drops down to 4-6% and the pitches are short and only 8-10%. Manageable. Then there is a small respite, you lose a bit of elevation, and the last section is not too bad at all. It's only hard because of the 4 hours or so already in the legs.

Then I heard it. Distant at first but clearly headed my way. Trucks. BIG trucks. Big dump trucks and trucks with Earth movers. These guys were the ones fixing the mountain from the typhoon otherwise they wouldn't normally be on these tight, twisty mountain roads. They were coming up behind me. Damn. What a way to ruin a great ride.

I looked down from atop one switchback and got a good look at these lumbering beasts. My legs still felt pretty good so I decided then and there to give it a go. If I could crest before them they'd never catch me on the descent.

Click, click and out of the saddle. I got it going, sat, clicked back up one more and got on top of it. How long could I keep this going? I could hear the rumble clearly through the heavy, still air on this side of the mountain. They were only a few hundred meters behind me - maybe 1 or 2 switchbacks bellow me - and getting louder by the second.

I could tell by the engine noise that the trucks were struggling with the pitches and the twists in the road. This was to my advantage. I could also tell that the drivers had no intention of taking it easy. They were on their way to lunch and if I wasn't careful the appetizer would be me.

I was riding right at my threshold and I could hear the thunder of these trucks rolling up behind me. In these tight little sections the sound traveled straight to me and couldn't just hear it, I could feel it. 1 km to go.

I shifted and got out of the saddle to get on top of the gear. The grade eased off here but that meant it eased off for the trucks, too. They were closing on me. I put my head down and drove. I could see the summit a hundred meters ahead of me and the trucks even closer behind me.

I jumped with everything I had left. I drilled it up ,over the summit, jammed it into the big ring and swung left into the descent. I couple of switch backs later and the thunder began to recede. I was away.

I ripped down the mountain, onto the flats and road the last 30km back to safety, food and a nice, cool bath.

Monday 7 July 2008

Cursing the Fates.

I've been having a string of bad luck of late that has pretty much ended any chance of riding well anytime in '08. None of it was serious; It was mostly a bunch of minor incidents that has made it impossible to develop or maintain any decent fitness. It's as if the Fates were conspiring to keep me off the bike. So I decided to give the Fates their due and to lay down some serious base and look forward to '09.

The problem with this is that it means I am doing long rides (4-5 hours) in the middle of summer when I would have normally scaled back the time and been doing 2 1/2 hours of intensity and sprint intervals. This also jives with the pause in the racing season here that happens during the summer months. There are races in the spring and fall but very few in July and August when the heat, humidity and typhoons are at their peak.

So Sunday I went out for a planned 4 hour ride that features about 1400m of climbing. I started off feeling a little better than I had of late so I bumped the pace up during the warm-up and got on top of the gear a little more than I had recently. This was shaping up to be a good one.

About a hour into it I was riding tempo along a tree-lined road that is a slight false flat up and heads into the foothills. Up ahead I saw some dark clouds rolling in and I could tell there was some big rain in store for me later. Ok, I thought, this one might get a bit epic.

I kept riding.

The wind began to kick up and it started to get darker and darker all around me. I had started out in bright sunshine so I was wearing dark lenses. I slipped my shades off and stuck them in my helmet. A light rain began to fall.

I was actually a bit thankful for the rain. It was a lot cooler than the summer sun I started out in. The wind picked up a bit more and the rain followed suit. Now it was blowing in my face but I was feeling pretty good so I kept the tempo going and resolved to hammer through it.

As the wind drove the rain into my face it started to sting but it was ok because I was feeling better than I had in months. I just put my head down and kept turning the legs. Then I saw a lightening strike about a click or so in front of me. This is pretty odd for around here. Then, within the space of less than a minute I saw 4 more.

I kept riding.

The wind notched up once more and was now driving the rain into my face. It felt like a was riding through a swarm of bees. Then more lightening. This was getting serious. Then I realized that the Fates were having at me again. This was the first ride where I felt even part way decent and they were sending this storm to slap me down once more. Damn, this was getting personal! I started to get angry. Defiant. I would be damned if those biotches were going to take this ride away from me.

I kept riding.

The wind became deafening. It felt like every drop of rain was piercing my flesh. The lightening strikes were coming fast and furious. Even if I wanted to get off my bike I was surrounded by trees on either side of the road for a few kms in each direction. What was I to do? I put my head down, cursed the sky and I kept riding.

You know that scene in the Trueman show (or almost any other movie where some idiot is caught in a storm at sea) where Jim Carey lashes himself to the mast and shouts at the sky, "Is this all you got?!", "Is this it?", "Bring it on!"? That was me.

The wind was pressing me down until my chest was resting on the top tube. I was riding at a crawl. The rain was threatening to tear chunks of flesh from my body or, at the very least, powerwash the tattoos off of me. There were so many lightening strikes I'd completely lost count and I was cursing the sky and telling whoever to "Bring it on!".

Idiot.

Then there was this pause, or maybe it was a lull - I can never tell the difference. For a second I was able to spit the water out of my mouth and catch my breath. "HA!" I thought. "Ha," indeed.

Just behind me, slightly out of my peripheral view and to the right, there was a strike. The bang was so loud that, when I got home, I was sure that I was going to find that I'd soiled my bibs a little bit. All of the hairs on my body felt like they were standing up. The air had this smell I can't describe. It was a like that smell after a big storm, with an undertone of burnt something and then something else - something else I'd never smelled before.

I kept riding.

The wind dropped off to a manageable level and the rain became rain again. It was still a pretty decent storm but it felt as if the meanness of it was gone.

I did 2 1/2 more hours of wind, rain, sun and climbing. I felt good. I felt good for the first time in many months. I know it sounds weird (and a wee bit hippyish) but it felt as if something had passed. For the first time in months I felt hopeful, that the road was long but it lead somewhere. It was going to be ok.

I just need to keep riding.