Climbing back - up a Rocky Point

Sometime hills are the best way, the only way to return to where you began. Throughout history hills have been there, pinnacles from which we see the world more clearly, personally, biblically, politically, metaphorically, they teach us how to humble ourselves and we are once again reminded that climbing always gets us out of the valley we're in.

Maybe it's that hills force us to pump some extra blood between heart and head and with it a few extra bubble of oxygen to clear the coconut? I can't be certain, just know that while I don't always feel great going up, once up there things do get better.

After riding myself into a mental valley at Cascade Cycling Classic, I took a few days and then refound my joy, on a hill, a stretch of 7-9% that doesn't care where you came from. I also have refocused my goals on a hill, the Wy East Rd climb; a snaking one-lane passage up through the forests of Mt Hood, between 4 and 6,000 feet, this year's Oregon State Hillclimb (TT) Championship, to get back to where I began - a love for riding up... up... up.

The closest thing I have to practice on, without driving an hour to Mt. Hood, is 15miles from my porch, Rocky Point Road. A lovely little 1,300' climb over 3.15 miles with pitches in the double digits.

The roll out was easy between 32-35kmh west on Hwy 30. Morning traffic going out is pretty light and the shoulders wide enough to not make the delivery trucks much an issue. It's the perfect half hour warm up my legs need.

The climb starts a 1/4 mile after the Dept of Transportation Weigh Station well marked across the highway. Gear down and get ready - Rocky comes at you right out of the gate!

Some climbs invite you in, then slap you around a bit, give you a few flat bits to catch your breath and then let you slip over the top, Rocky Point will have none of that. Coming off Hwy 30 you turn left and immediately a long ramp of 9-11% glares at you, then disappears into the trees 600m in the distance - if you haven't unclipped to reconsider start flicking that rear derailleur and take a few deep breaths. It's right here where you decide are you here to climb or creep? Over the years I have done both.

Regardless your decision the calves are always my first to complain; they have just come off the big-ring on Hwy 30 and don't like the instant high rev spinning. My breathing is next and the lungs consort with the calves in a debate of a 'reasonable speed'. Today is all about the August 16th Championship and I politely ignore them both.

At the end of that launch ramp the road begins a snaking slither through the big leaf maples. Its easy to imagine a serpent creating this road - on its way downhill of course! Any creature, even with a reduced reptilian brain would have chosen a gentler gradient and more switchbacks. Not this one. Rocky bends gently left then gently right, repeating it at 8-9% for the next several hundred meters. I settle in to a climbing rhythm and keep looking up the road - hearing Paul Sherwin say, "it's never a good sign when the non-climbers start looking at their gears." I'm a climber damn it! I fix my focus straight up the road.

The 1 mile marker is just ahead, I know it too well, I play this 'I will not look at the computer' game with myself until I cross the marker - 5:39 - damn it! I'm way off - I need to be down around five. Once again I hear Mr Sherwin doing play-by-play in my head, "he always come good on his rendezvous" , ya, but that's Armstrong, and I'm no Pro. Clearly. I'm just a 53 year whacko who thinks he can climb. Ya know, compared to most of the guys I ride with I can - they would love to see this - sweat streaming in an uninterrupted rivulet from my chin, constantly rising up out of the saddle to keep the momentum going, and when all else fails looking down at my sock (NOT my gears), my Jens Voigt 'Vorrom, vroom, vroom" socks, remind myself I am having fun and ask 'what would Jens do?' - attack - so I hesitate, then tell myself don't hesitate, again out of the saddle and up the revs.

The Wall
Rocky relents a bit through these trees, over a mile and a half into the climb, my computer flickers 8%, then 9, then 8 again; I keep reminding myself to reach with my knees. A thing I read somewhere, if you are struggling to keep the 'spin' on a climb pretend you are reaching for the handlebars with your knees. C'mon knees - reach, reach.

Ahead the road curves left and then right, the gradient actually ducks under 6%, but it's a lie, around that right is The Wall. I know it; the curse of an intimate affair with this curvaceous slope. It's a beautiful little 100 meters of, as my friend Todd calls it, "witch-slapping nasty". If you were racing this is where you would attack. If you had Contador's legs you would dance away; you'd be inclined on its 15% to take flight for the top. If not, this is where you vainly flick the right shifter to the sound of silence. Sorry sunshine, get out of the saddle and push on the pedals. If your spin has spun, then choke on your pride and 'Paperboy' it. Today I keep the knees reaching and lock my stare on the crest of The Wall. Over the top it's almost flat - 7+%.

The metronome in my head pushes up the tempo... 'reach, reach, reach'... 5:39, 5:39, 5:39... time to make up.

The 2 mile marker pokes out of the shrubbery on the right and 11:23 ticks past... 'reach, reach, reach'...

Outta the saddle, drop a gear, push it from here, most of its shy of 7%, then 6, 5, outta the saddle again. No more shade. Push. There's a motivational monologue raging in my head. I don't feel my calves, my lungs, my anything. Past the 3 mile marker - crap, pushing so hard I forgot to look. Sweat runs into my right eye - live with it - push.

A hundred meters...

One last outta the saddle

18:08

MAP

The Tour - One more look

For look back at the 2009 TdF check out the Devil and 39 other photos on the Boston Globe site

Jens Voigt - Alive and Well

As you know Jens Voigt took a terrible spill in the Tour - he is alive and well - recovering and has posted this Jens video message (warning - he IS pretty banged up)

No Phil, No Paul - Tour de France Withdrawals

Sleep-in 'till 6, listen to NPR Morning Edition, return emails, just reconnect with the world, but no --- instead I wake at 5 AM and lay there, my brain says rise, stagger to the remote and say good morning to Phil (Liggett) and Paul (Sherwin). As they get settled, telling me what I have heard a dozen times, but somehow I feel hooked like a cycloaddict needing to hear it said one more time, maybe somewhere inside I know I have limited time for a fix, I fill the water pot to boil and get my cuppa Earl Grey tea started. But it's Day 24 of the Tour's 23. It's the morning after. It's the coming down, going cold turkey, slamming on the breaks. It's like dropping a chain a 15% climb, all forward progress ceases, your brain sends a warning - "clip out NOW!" It's Tour de France withdrawals.

Sadly, this has been going on for years, you think I would learn, I would adapt, for God's-sake species go extinct for less flexibility. Has 4 million years of cranial evolution not prepared me for this one Monday morning each late July?

I think what makes it harder is the general death valley of cycling that August is, or historically has been. In the past the Tour of Germany gave me brief reprieve with the mono-a-mono hilly battles between Levi Leipheimer and effervescent road warrior Jens Voigt. Perhaps this year will be different, I hope, I pray, but staring into my cuppa EG I'm doubtful. I'm not alone. On the Tour's final Sunday I heard Phil say, lamentingly, resolutely, "tomorrow I have no job", and while the pro race calender has a couple of things for Phil (and Paul) to do - a reborn Tour of Ireland, Vuelta Espana, World Championships, and the most poetic, graceful finish of the season in any sport, "the Race of the Falling Leaves" - Giro di Lombardia.

The cuppa EG stares back...

It's like an annual death in the family - and the family is already squabbling; Maillot jaune victor Contidor is dissing Lance, "My relationship with Lance Armstrong is zero," (careful skinny-legged little boy, don't pull the tiger's tail); LA shrugs when asked about Conti, too busy forming a new team - USPS v4.0; Sastre still complains of no respect and trying to figure out why his Tour went "all pair-shaped" (Conti please take another note: TdF requires a team, yours is upgrading without you to LAv4.0), Cadel sits in the corner pouting; Menchov is still trying to reverse the Invisible-man Giro potion he swallowed in May; but these brats are my family of wheeled wonders and I love them one-n-all. The thought of waiting another year for this family reunion is killing me.

The final obit is written later in the morning when I return the box to Comcast - still set on Versus where it began 23 days earlier when the tech guy installed; I only awaken the tv-beast for the three weeks of the Tour, otherwise it's my December through January DVD training partner. The Comcast clerk doesn't even ask why it's coming back, there must be a note on my file, "don't ask".

Phil, good luck on the resume, despite getting older, with your experience there will be openings, otherwise swing by for a cuppa.

DNF - the morning after

Yang came looking for me the next morning (see previous CCC post). Yang wears very similiar outfits to the grim reaper I found out. Stage 4 - DNF

What started in Saturday afternoon's crit continued to chase me down like a junkyard dog on holiday. This chase was in my head; just never could wrap my coconut around the CCC. Still trying to sort out why not. Eventually it was one of those "neutral feed zones" that took it's toll. The chaos caused me to unclip, the boys up front hit the gas as if their water bottles were needed at a 5-alarm blaze, and boom I was off the front group. A 2K chase in TT position ensued, but I had done that the morning before, and now the legs said no way, not into a head wind.

Before that I was actually talking myself through it - forced myself to get up front, helped chase a couple short lived attacks, sat on race leader Dave Zimbelman's wheel, for much of the next lap, then we climbed to the feed zone, and there, a really aggressive race twittered my brain with a whole lot of questions about fighting this much and then it was "lights out in the 'mental' engine room". Unfortunately Mr. Liggett, there was not going to be any digging into suitcases,... or bags, or knapsacks, or any other carrier, for courage. Not since my second marathon many moons ago had I "hit the wall". In this case the legs still worked, the head was banging and the wall wasn't giving in.

This was by far the most aggressive and talented field (115 strong) I raced in all year. The USA Nationals this coming week in Bend brought a number of Elite Masters in - and they filled the CCC field and definitely amped up the level of racing - looking back Elkhorn seems rather pleasant.

My goal this year was to come to every race with a lesson to learn. And in each I can say that has happened - I've definitely improved. Perhaps CCC had no clear enough goal, maybe blame the heat, or the cracked frame the night before leaving through me off, in the end this was in my head. And I guess the learnt lesson is bike racing is really a head game. As much as we like to think it's about pedalling a bike, it's really about pedalling upstairs, clearing your focus, and determining your success.

My consolation? After hitting the wall in that second marathon I went on to run my faster ever 26 miles in my third. My goal this season was to learn, so I could be competitive in 2010. Maybe 2010 is my new third.

Shelled...

Getting older brings some realities - one of them is you have days of yin & yang. Saturday was mine. I got shelled in the afternoon crit. Pulled from the course after losing contact. Why is it the yang ends the day?

The Yin: I was really focused on the morning's TT. I know its my Achilles heel. To hold on to my 16th from stage 1 it was critical not to lose to much - maybe miracle-of-miracles gap the guy behind in the GC 30secs more. The 14 miles were good for me - lumpy and the longer than anything I had done before. I now know that hilliness hurts others and this old motor does better as the distance stretches.

I got this one nearly right - my Yin had taken over my attitude. I warmed up for nearly an hour, riding over 5 miles to the start and heaps of laps on local streets similar to the course (lumpy rolling stuff) for another half hour. The pump was primed. Hell, I timed this so perfectly I literally rolled to the start line, never unclipped as they held me and started the 30 sec countdown (a bit too close for OBRA officials - sorry guys).

The Yang: Riding over to the start the legs complained, the spark that hints of speed was not there, but for me crits are all about surviving - just sit on the back and stay alive. I planned to find Dave Zimbleman's wheel and stay there. Dave is the GC leader but doesn't get mixed up in front these speed fests if his lead (he's leading the Masters 45+ GC) isn't at risk. They, OBRA officials, neutralized scoring today because of complete mess up in stage 1 recordings - they're trying to sort out overnight. Its becoming crystal clear I and the a populous of the peloton have a distinctly different interpretation of the commonly used term "neutral". My good friends over at Merriam's online have this take on the word:
Function: noun
Date: 15th century

1 : one that is neutral 2 : a neutral color 3 : a position of disengagement (as of gears)

Now of course I, being a Masters and all, which means I have been on the planet for a few years, at least long enough to learn the language, would assume any word that has had 5 centuries of use should be fairly commonly accepted and understood. I guess that's one of those realities getting older still hasn't taught me, because I don't call taking off at over 31 miles per hour for the first sever laps neutral! No one that night except for the Pros went that fast - and even they were shelling each other at that speed!

Getting back to Merriam's, I especially like definition #3 "disengagement (as of gears). Could I just add - wheels, frame, derailleur, handle bars, saddle, pedals, etc. Ya I'm frustrated. If I decide to drop that's one thing, but working my arse off and getting pulled totally pisses me off. Yang is crappy, and not the way to end a day. We're back on the open roads in the morning - thank goodness... btw, did I mention I hated crits before and now even more!

Yang was tough on everyone. The above photo is of my friend and Lip Smacker pro Hilary Billington, she did a great job "hanging on" in the women's pro crit - they ripped it up in the high 20 mph range. Afterwords she looked beat, but no whistle, nice job Hil!

A day for 'Old Farts'

So said Andrew Hood on Velonews, "Armstrong settled into third place at 5:24 back, a remarkable achievement following his three-year retirement."

Remarkable, c'mon Andrew, give the man his due! I just finished a second stage 14 mile TT surrounded by a lot of other 'old farts' - older doesn't mean dead, in fact I would say mental toughness builds and experience and stamina kick in. We need more 'old farts' out here!

Andrew went on to say, "At 37, Armstrong is one of the oldest podium finishers ever. His experience and race savvy proved decisive throughout the race, most evident in key moments when he snuck into the front group when the pack split in stage 3 to Le Grande Motte" And maybe this is one of the most overlooked qualities of LA and age, we get smarter. I firmly believe LA is THE smartest cyclist ever to compete in the Tour. One only has to replay a handful of DVDs to get the message loud in clear. It started in 1999 on the Passage du Goisand has continued on in every Tour since. My personal favorite was a sprint up the right side out of the peloton to cross badly angled railroad track in a week one stage in 2004 (I think). With space LA took them at his own angle - their was a small crash in the peloton - insignificant?

"With new sponsor RadioShack, Armstrong promises to be back next year even stronger." says Hood. Hell, he'll be older, and 'older fart' so why not, more stamina, experience and toughness.

“I will race next year with my team and I think I will be even stronger,” Armstrong said. “We will have a strong team. I am already looking forward to next year.”

Wer'e still waiting for morning TT times and results, but regardless I'm really happy the way a bunch of old rafts have ridden the roads of Bend the past two days. Not all of America has 'round things out' into a state of obesity. "At 37, Armstrong is one of the oldest podium finishers ever." Bring on the crit this afternoon - the old farts are clip'n in and ready :"))