Before jumping into last weekend's riding I want to
acknowledge one of the Tour du Burundi riders who had to bow out of the ride
last week for family reasons. He is
putting his family first and I support his decision 100% but I will miss him on
the Tour. Please pray for him and his
family as you feel led.
With his departure, the only other rider from the states,
I'm left riding with a bunch of boys from across the pond. This concerns me. Don't get me wrong, based on the email banter
they all seem like great lads but after hanging with them for two weeks how will their Britishness rub off on
me? I mean, will I have the urge to
change my name to Burundi Nigel?
"Nigel Caruthers here with your latest post from
Burundi." “Say Simon, old boy, be a
dear and hand me my iPad.” Will I be
unable to write pithy comments unless I'm wearing an ascot and smoking
jacket? Am I being too stereotypical?
On to the rides, the second weekend of riding both
Saturday and Sunday. I felt so good
after last weekend that I wanted to test myself and do a longer ride with more
climbing and checking my ride archives I found a 55 miler that seemed to fit
the bill. Off I went Saturday morning to
do some of the Redwood Road ride plus a climb up Grizzly Peak.
The route change from the Redwood Road ride is the point
where Redwood meets Pinehurst. Last post
I told you it was at this point I traditionally rest but I continued on up
Pinehurst and toward home. Last Saturday
I didn't turn right on Pinehurst, I continued on Redwood which is a 2 mile
incline to Skyline Boulevard. This
stretch of Redwood is uncomfortable as the grade increases the closer you get
to Skyline. There are horse stables near
the top and I'm always very happy to smell horses as I know I'm getting closer
to Skyline.
Taking a break where Redwood meets Skyline, still
smelling horses, and over 30 miles into what I thought was a 55 mile ride, I
realized, if I were to complete my intended route, the ride would be
significantly longer than I planned. I knew
I had a bailout point a few miles up the road so I continued to that decision
point.
So there I am, a right turn down a hill would make it a
55 mile ride, straight (my planned route) would add probably 10 miles. At that moment I thought I heard God's voice
prompting me to the longer route but then I realized I had stopped near a
parked car and the woman inside was on her cell phone. Nonetheless, I chose the longer ride because
I would have felt like a wimp doing anything less.
This stretch takes the rider up a road called Grizzly
Peak. Note the word
"peak". Lots more climbing but
with rewards like these views. Not sure
if you can see through the haze but that's San Francisco on the left and the
Golden Gate Bridge on the right. It's a really
beautiful ride that leads to Tilden Park and Wildcat Canyon Road and ultimately
to a rest stop at Peet’s Coffee. 50
miles into the ride, still a good distance from home, and facing yet another
decision. Parenthetically, when it comes
to Peet’s Coffee, I’m like a moth to a light.
I have to stop.
My fuel on my rides is cheese sticks (protein), this
gel-like stuff in a little pouch (carbohydrates), electrolyte pills (think
Gatorade without the sugar and liquid), and water. Combining all that with the pills I take for
my knees, the fish oil I take for Omega 3's, ibuprofen, and a variety of other
vitamins and supplements, there's a sad truth I need to face. I'm doping.
Mind you, this puts me in good company.
Lance Armstrong and Barry Bonds come to mind. But back to the decision I faced while
resting at Peet’s.
I had one cheese stick left, I needed the protein, but
this was a five-hour-old cheese stick that had been warming nicely in a bag
attached to the underside of my bicycle seat.
Add to that, at an earlier rest stop I discovered two cheese sticks
buried in the back of that same bag that had been there for untold weeks. Man, just writing that makes my stomach turn.
So staring at my last, warm, limp, cheese stick I'm
thinking, "Do I feel lucky?" I needed it. I ate it and hopped on my bike wanting to get
home as soon as possible because I had no idea if the cheese stick I just
consumed would have a positive or negative effect.
The last what I thought would be 15 miles turned out to
be 20 miles which meant the original plan of a 55 miler turned into 70! That’s 70 plus 3900 feet of climbing!! As I returned home I was certain I was not
going out Sunday. Sunday arrived and out
I went for a ride up Mount Diablo, well, as far as my thighs would take me.
Leaving the house Sunday I was surprised I was even
riding and Diablo seemed like a good test.
Starting at the base of Diablo it became clear that the summit was not
happening today. Every switchback was a
call to stop as my thighs were burning from the prior day's ride. Eventually, I made it to the Junction, and
called it a day. It was a beautiful day,
indeed, and the first time this year I broke out the short-sleeved jersey. By the end of the weekend, the two rides
totaled 90 miles, 6,100 feet of climbing, over 7,100 calories burned, and a
distain of cheese sticks.
All of that effort resulted in about 3 more pounds of
weight loss bringing the total to 88 pounds and now within spitting distance of
the 100 pound goal. And speaking of
goals, I'm determined to raise $20,000 for the school. Need about $7,000 more in donations plus my
employer's matching to make it. I feel,
like the 12 pounds, $7,000 is a forgone conclusion. It is within spitting distance as well. If you're thinking of giving, grab your credit card now and
get it done. And please pay in dollars
not cheese sticks.
Remember, you don’t have to donate, you get to donate.
Happy Easter!!
