Monday, May 22, 2017


     There are several cycling forays which stand out in my cycling history, although I've had many outstanding adventures.  Cycling coast to coast in fifty-two days was endurance; Land's End to John O'Groats likewise; The Blue Ridge Parkway easily the most difficult.  But the two tours with Marty and Jill Jemison are the most memorable.
     In conjunction with Le Tour de France, my first adventure was a week in 2006 riding in the Pyrenees.  You can read about it in Bicycling Journeys with Jerry.  Among other highlights on this trip was about a half an hour talking with Paul Sherwen and Phil Liggett. Marty specializes in good food and wine and getting us in with the riders before or after the race, along with cycling the cols.  In 2008 we did the Alps, details of which are in Gotta Go!  Cycling Vacations in Fantastic Locations.
     But what is special about the Jemison's is that they actually form friendships with all of their clients and you are treated as special guests on and after their tours.  I'm sure Marty doesn't remember the advice he gave me about time trials in 2008.  But I do, took it to heart, and have been following his formula ever since.  And that brings me to what prompted me to write this post nine years after the last time we saw each other.
First the background.  Our ride that day was to ascend Col d'Agnel, the highest border crossing in Europe.  Once at the top, we would dismount and watch Le Tour riders go by, joining the vast crowd of screaming cyclophiles.  We were running late, I had only my wind jacket and no time to go back to get anything warmer.  Half way up the climb it began to get chilly.  Then wet.  Then downright cold.  Then, the gendarmes made us dismount, about a mile from the top.  We circumvented that, and made it to the tavern at the top.  I was shivering uncontrollably.  Jill gave me her jacket, Marty rounded up hot chocolate for the group.  The tavern had a big screen tv, and I opted not to go out to cheer on the suffering riders as they passed.  Once gone, everybody started to descend the mountain.  We waited for a break in the rain/sleet, then made a break for it.  The plan was for me and Marty to go first, Jill and some others to follow.  Seconds after we started, we hit more rain/sleet.  I gave up my lead to Marty.  He kept looking back to make sure I was with him, and each time I was he let it out a little more.  We were really moving, passing cars, getting soaked.  Halfway down the rain stopped, the sun came out, and it was noticibly warmer.  On with the prompt.
     The socks I was wearing (Jemison socks) were filthy.  It took at least five years of washing before the grime came out.  This year I emailed Marty to recount the adventure, and that the socks finally had worn out.   On Saturday, the day I won my time trial, these arrived in the mail.
     If you have ever thought about cycling in Europe, go with the best, Jemison Cycling.

Sunday, May 21, 2017


     Even as late as yesterday I opined that time trials are boring.  They lack the excitement of an attack up a mountain or the final acceleration in a criterium (I'm thinking of you, CD4).  But that doesn't mean the cyclist is on auto-pilot for the duration.  Let me re-run yesterday, inside my head.
     Actually, let's start with the equipment.  My Felt B2 with Zipp 404 and 808 wheels and Dura Ace components is quite quick no matter who is astride.  I run 95 and 90 pounds of pressure in the tires.  At least that is the pressure an hour before the race.  I switched to latex tubes two years ago and they leak air much faster than butyl.  My wife gifted me with an aero helmet several years ago, and there was a study indicating they make quite a difference.  I have a skin suit and shoe covers.  Truthfully, I doubt the shoe covers help much, but at least I look like a racer.
     Time trials are all about shaving a second here and there.  Yesterday I was pretty sure I was the fastest in my category, 75+ men.  Given my left knee problem, I opted to give up a few seconds by not using the start ramp and holder.  I didn't want to chance it buckling at the start.  I'm very comfortable in the tuck position on my bike, and my knee works fine while seated.  So rather than sprint seven or eight revolutions to accelerate at the start, I quickly sat down and brought it up to speed with higher rpm's.  Maybe two or three seconds deficit for the start.
     Breathing.  Even though I haven't seen a 160 bpm this year, I use that as my maximum heart rate, and 90% is 144 bpm.  When I'm in good form, I try to stay between 90 and 94%.  I can hold that for quite some time.  So I am constantly monitoring my body with both my brain and the computer.  At the same time, I'm looking at speed and cadence.  Yesterday the outbound 10k was with the breeze at my back, and I took advantage by pushing a larger gear and slower cadence (82 rather than 88), for the most part.  Each undulation in the road brought a gear change.  This is where seconds are won.  A slight incline brought a lower gear and higher cadence, with the opposite for a decline.
     The return 10k was against the breeze and slightly uphill.  I had not trained for anything more than 10k, so doing 20 put some stress on the body.  I kept changing gears, making sure the speed increased or stayed the same, depending on the cadence, but this time it was a gear smaller.  Also, I took a few (two) breaks to hydrate and breathe.  Coming out of the tuck costs a few seconds, so these breaks lasted maybe five seconds each.  There is one 3% grade of maybe two-tenths of a mile.  Here I geared down and sat up and got ready for the last big push.  Relatively refreshed, I resumed my tuck and higher gear.  With the finish line in sight I wound it up and finished strong, pushing the heart-rate to 153.
     Early in my racing I lost concentration and stayed in a comfortable gear (rather than going higher and getting some more speed) for maybe thirty seconds.  I came in second by three seconds.  Maximum effort for the whole race is the goal no matter the placing.

Saturday, May 20, 2017


     Let's start by being thankful.  Thankful to Ino for adding the 75+ category to the men's race.  Otherwise this would be a short entry with a so-so result.  Thankful that it didn't rain, although the air itself was wet enough.  I'd forgotten how humid this could be.  Back-door thankful for all those 75+ guys who are faster than me but for whatever reason didn't come to race.  Time trials themselves are usually boring: you start, pedal as fast/hard as you can, you finish.  I'll do what I can to fill in my background on this race.
     It starts with last year's race and me coming in last.  Placement aside, my cycling was the pits.  Something had to change (see previous posts, that's not new).  I've been much more consistent in riding on the trainer and in doing my hill-route.  The legs are gaining strength and the cardio system can keep up with the task.  But let's face it, at my age it is difficult to do "additional" exercise, so something had to go.  My long rides (65 miles) are in the closet.  Maybe after Nationals.  The legs aren't quite there yet, but I felt good on my 10k practice last week.  Unfortunately, the race today was 20k, so I have a 'ways to go.
     In previous years, I've gone down on Friday, did packet pick-up then stayed overnight, once in Brenham, and twice in Hempstead.  I realized this is only a two hour drive, so this year I slept in my own bed and drove down on Saturday morning.  Some might argue it was Friday night, in that I was awake at 2:45am and left the garage at 3:55am.  At approximately 3:50am it started to rain, with multiple lightning strikes.  Bummer.  I thought I was out of the storm when I went south to Parmer Lane, but no.  It wasn't until McDade that I could turn off the windshield wipers and relax a bit.  Who would have thought so many people would be out so early?  For awhile there I thought my right leg would cramp.
     The rest of the ride proved uneventful, other than my favorite potty stops weren't open.  Not to worry, Hwy 290 has a plethora of nice places.  I pulled into the Hempstead Middle School parking lot at 6:04am and found a prime parking spot right where packet pick-up would be.  Hmmm!  They aren't here yet.  Strange.  Hmmm!  They only have one porta potty.
     I set up my trainer under an awning, in that I fully expected the rain to catch up with me.  Aired up the tires on my Felt and perfomed routine pre-race activities, including lining up for the porta potty.  The lady in front of me received a call from her husband indicating packet pick-up would be behind the library.  "That's over by the start line."  Pook, ding-fu!  I did my thing, walked to the car, drove the one block and returned.  Still on schedule.  I sprayed the number with adhesive and slapped it on.
     In my past twelve years of racing I've only warmed up on the trainer twice, both with poor results.  But recently I found a formula that seems to get me ready without wearing me out. I'm not fond of sweaty, drippy jerseys, so warmed up with the jersey part of the skin suit off, replaced by a t-shirt.  Twenty minutes later the shirt was wringing wet and I had consumed a full bottle of water.   I know hydration is a key component.  Experience with Houston weather has shown I usually consume twice as much water as you would in Austin.  Time to go to the start line.  I drink a bottle of Pickle Juice and another half bottle of water.
     At the start line I double-checked with the timer and find I have fourteen minutes before the start.  They have a couple of porta potties nearby, so make one last stop.  Time to review my strategy.  Traditionally, on this out-and-back south-to-north course, there is a tailwind on the second half.  Today, the wind is out of the north.  Not much of a wind, let's call it a gentle breeze.  My main competitors are Dean and Fred.  I was faster than Dean in College Station a few months ago.  Fred is ten years my senior and is on his regular bike.  He can still beat me in a road race, but I've got him in the time trials.
     I have a left knee problem that bothers me mainly at one position in a standing stroke.  Taking no chances, I eschew the start-ramp and the courtesy hold, leaving instead with just a push-off and clip in.  I'm back in the saddle after two strokes, and start shifting down (down, as in down the cog from the bigger cogs to the smaller ones).  I learned in College Station that if you start in the small chain ring and the derailleur doesn't move when you pull the lever, you lose time.  Once I had settled into a comfortable pace I looked at the computer and saw 24mph.  Another cog and now I was up at 28.  I haven't seen those numbers in years.  I had to take advantage now, knowing the return would be much slower.
     If anyone asks, I'd characterize this course as flat.  But, of course, it really isn't.  It is a series of 1-2% rollers, with a little flat thrown in.  Slightly down on the way out, slightly up on the way back.  Needless to say, I had my fastest 10k ever.  Unfortunately, that was only half way.  Fred had started 30 seconds ahead of me and I passed him somewhere around the 5k mark.  But after that he apparently kept up, in that he was only about 10 seconds behind at the turn-around.  Dean started 30 seconds behind and it looked like 50 seconds or so when I saw him coming to the turn-around.  That put me in a better frame of mind, and I concentrated on keeping cadence (I don't use a power meter).  Not counting the starting quarter mile, I don't think I used more than three gears.  But I found myself constantly shifting to gain a few tenths, or in the out-bound course, whole miles per hour.  My heart-rate graph is almost flat, only a few beats either side of 146, until the final 30 seconds when I pushed it up to 153.  My max HR used to be 165 but I haven't seen that in years.  This year the highest I've seen is 155.
     All in all, a good day on the bike, with an average speed of 22mph.  I relaxed too much between miles 9 and 11. I think I can still push one bigger gear.  Nationals is two weeks away and has a much different course.  Stay tuned.

Thursday, April 20, 2017


     For all those expecting something else, sorry, this is about me getting old.  I keep a spreadsheet of my rides (yes, I'm on Garmin Connect and Strava but rarely actually use them).  Several years ago, 2011 to be precise, I started a new sheet and sorta lost track of the old one.  On the new sheet I have a page (Jester) dedicated to the rides I call my "hill route."  I've posted several times about this route, in that I use this get my HR up to maximum.  The last ramp up Courtyard never (hardly ever) fails to bring out the top rate of the ride, and when I'm feeling particularly energetic, my overall max.  I use this to set my zones.  But I digress, this post is about gearing.
     I came across my pre-2011 spreadsheet and transferred the Jester data.  And thus begins me gear tale.  Apparently I first began doing this route in 2008, at age 65.  At that time my road bike (custom titanium Roark) had a 53-39 chain ring and 12-27 cogs (as best I remember).  I struggled up Courtyard and Jester (and Rain Creek and Bluegrass) but accomplished the circuit in one hour and twenty minutes on average.  For the next two years I mostly stayed under 1:25.
     The next year I experienced real difficulties on Courtyard, to the extent of having to walk the last ramp.  The ego took a big hit on that day.  I had to face the reality of not having the oomph to push the gear.  I swallowed hard and switched to a compact crank.  Interestingly enough, my times stayed the same.  But then a different reality set in.  In racing Walburg I found myself spinning out and losing ground on the downhill, and quickly finding myself alone on the road.  So I moved on to a triple.
     Now, in 2012, my times stayed in the low 1:20's and I reeled myself up Courtyard and Jester a record 25 times.  But 2013 had me struggling again.  I switched to a 28 cog which was enough to keep me in the saddle.  I hung on for another two years, but in 2016 jumped to a 32.  I've had my fun remarking about people who have dinner plates for cog sets, so I'm now getting my comeuppance.  Most of my times moved to being under 1:35.  For the first four rides in 2017 I stayed at 1:35.  But then I needed new shifters, which turned into also a new crank set and derailleurs.
     Surprise!  The new crank set had a granny gear of 30 and my 28 no longer matched up so couldn't be transferred.  My fear was that I'd lost at least one gear and wouldn't make it up Courtyard.  As it turns out, I made it up Courtyard just fine, and in the fastest time for the circuit in three years.  I then did a check on Sheldon Brown's Gear Calculator and it looks like I only lost half a gear.
     The older you get the harder you have to work to maintain fitness.  I'd love to be able to push that 39-53 everywhere, but it is a fact of life, when the road turns up, I need bigger gears.  I recently emailed Marty Jemison that if I ever took his signature tour in Spain I'd need an Ebike.  But I'll keep pedaling as long as I can.

Sunday, April 9, 2017


     First the back-story.  In 2004 my friends Ray and Byran talked me into coming to Washington State to ride the John Wayne Trail.  This is a rail-trail with the famous two-mile long Snoqualmie Tunnel.  As an inducement Ray would provide the bike, a very nice fully-suspended mountain bike.  We had a great time (included in Bicycle Journeys with Jerry).  Ray wanted to sell me the bike but I wasn't inclined.  However, I agreed that if he could build me a bike for $1500, I'd buy it.  He did, and I did.  Since that time I've done multiple rail trails on my KHS bike.  But these rides are few and far between.  Most of the time the bike just hung in the garage.
     I've mentioned several times that when I realized I'd not ridden in any of the states bordering Texas, that became my next goal.  I did New Mexico last year and have signed up with Velo View Bike Tours for their Arkansas adventure.  Arkansas will be a gravel grinder.  I determined to get a few rides in before we go in June.  I missed one in early March, so was looking forward to March 18th and the Gravel Grinder to Bastrop, an eighty-three mile out and back.
     Let me quote from page 15 of Gotta Go! Cycling Vacations in Fantastic Locations: "When riding on non-asphalt trails, limit yourself to no more than forty miles per day."  Of course, this means when taking a cycling vacation on rail-trails.  But I had not mounted my mountain bike in over four years and my stamina is not up to eighty miles of gravel.   So, I whined a bit and found someone else who also only wanted to do forty miles.  As luck would have it, she is part-owner (not sure of Dani's formal relationship) of Velo View and she would drive the van to Bastrop and I would drive it back.
     When I drove into the departure point I quickly determined everyone else had their cyclocross bikes.  It was a good size group, in the neighborhood of 12-14 riders (I counted at the time but now can't remember).  I had a sinking feeling, soon verified, that most of the mileage would be on asphalt.  Something like six miles of gravel, and only a few patches where I fish-tailed.
     We left Pflugerville at 8:30am under cloudy skies and a slight wind in our face (as long as we were headed in a southerly direction), and a mild sixty-five degrees.  Perfect riding weather.  I had carefully measured the saddle height and position, so was a bit perturbed to find a bit more than the proper "slight bend" in my leg at full extension.  I could have used another millimeter.  Nothing I can't fix later.
     Truthfully, I cruised along on the streets, bikeways, sidewalks, whatever quite comfortably.  Only one trouble-spot: a surprise turn up a short, steep ramp.  I didn't have time to get a proper gear so had to gut it up and around.  Other than raising my heart-rate a bit, successfully achieved.  Dan led the group and I slotted in somewhere mid-pack.  Between twenty-five and thirty miles my legs started complaining.  Welcome to the club, my shoulders and triceps were unhappy from the get-go.  Then we hit the gravel.  I waved good-bye to the group as I dropped off the pace.  Of course, I wasn't left behind, either Dan or someone else dropped back to keep me in sight and we regrouped a couple of times.  The fat tires of the mountain bike had no problem in the gravel, which thankfully was mostly packed with very little wash-boarding.  The few spots of deeper gravel were more of a diversion than a hindrance.
     It wasn't until we stopped in Bastrop that I actually got off the bike and saw that the saddle bolt had loosened and the saddle had slipped back about an inch and a half.  I was grateful the bolt hadn't come out completely, as I envisioned riding without a saddle at all.  I was also grateful for having arranged to be in the van for the way back.
     We lunched at Neighbor's Kitchen.  This is a great place, good food, live music, overlooking the Colorado River.  Dan wasn't feeling too well, and decided he would drive back, so I rode shotgun.  Dani had the lesser end of our ride-sharing, in that while she now had a slight tailwind she also had about fifteen degrees of heat more than I had.  It was also a gain in elevation.
     The plan for the van was to hop-scotch the riders, but Dan saw a road leading off to the left and wanted to see where it went.  Always on the lookout for some good gravel to ride.  As it turned out, several miles down it ended at a plant.  Now we know.  Upon our return to the route, the gravel part, we saw one of the ladies riding by herself.  Dan decided he would join her so she wouldn't be riding solo.  Thus the driving duties fell to me.  As it turned out, one of the guys had also stopped for her, so she found herself with several companions.
     A little later, at a turn, one of the guys had lost contact by riding ahead of everyone.  Dan asked me to drive straight to make sure he hadn't gone that way.  Several miles down the road, it ended at a T intersection and no rider was to be seen.  Back I went, got on course, and eventually caught up with the group and passed them and finally set up a hop-scotch scenario.  A few miles further and one of the other guys had had enough, and decided to SAG in.
     Like any good sag van, water and Nuun was available and copiously used.  Only a few miles from the finish, one last stop for water refills, and then I headed to the shop.  The cyclists would come off the road and back on the bikeway and through the neighborhood.
     I rate this a successful outing on the mountain bike, even if the gravel miles were minimal.  And, of course, riding with friends is always fun.

Saturday, April 8, 2017


     Actually, today's ride was with Brian and Callie.  But we were there because of Callie.  She is going to do the Rookie Tri in Austin, more specifically at Lake Long (previously Decker Lake).  She is a self-professed terrible swimmer, but a better-than-a-lot cyclist and a good (but could be better) runner.  I felt she could make up a lot of time on the bike, but would need something better than what she is currently riding.  I have a super fast Felt B2 with Zipp 404 and 808 wheels and thought this would give her the edge she needs.  The ride today was a recon of the course.
     Reality set in.  Callie has never ridden with aero bars and we are only four weeks away from the race.  While that is enough time to be familiar with the bars, it really isn't enough to be comfortable in a race.  Plus, in thinking about the course, I decided now wasn't the time to break her in on a TT bike when the course itself is hilly and pretty rough for long patches.  We went with Plan B: putting the Zipps on her bike.
     Apparently the Expo Center is having a vintage bike show.  A very large one.  Old cars streamed by our parking place for several hours, getting into the Expo Center.  Traffic backed up.
     I am really, really familiar with this course.  They run the Decker Challenge and the Double Decker (foot races, 13.1 and 26.2 miles respectfully) there and back when I was running marathons, this is the course where I strained my achilles so badly that eventually I stopped running and turned to cycling.  It is also the course for an Austin Senior Games cycling event (2005).  It was my second year of racing and I earned two bronze medals in the time trials and got a flat in the road race.  The flat came as I turned a corner too fast and rolled the tire (or something to that effect).  It is extremely challenging with quite a bit of climbing.  Much more so than in most time trials.  I hate this course.
     But to be sure Callie got a proper recon, I sucked it up and we rode it.  The temperature was great, the wind likewise.  I won't describe it as gale-force, but quite strong.
     Because of traffic concerns we skipped part of the route by taking the bikeway up to the gun range and started on Lindell Road.  This is best ridden in the middle of the road, and can be taken in the big ring.  At the end of Lindell is a right turn and an immediate uphill.  In my opinion, you should reduce to the small chain ring while coasting up to the turn and go for the high rpm's.  I lost Brian and Callie on this hill and followed as best I could.
     They waited for me at the top of the next hill and we headed east toward the toll road and a right turn and another hill.  I'm pleading oxygen debt in not recognizing the next turn.  We stopped at it, Brian suggested it was the right road, but I didn't think so.  He acquiesced and so we added two more hills and about four miles to the circuit.  Just as well, in that we had a nice stop at a convenience store.
     Back on course, we now came upon backed-up traffic threading its way into the Expo Center.  We had a wide right-of-way so cautiously made our path through the cars and back to the starting point.
Round two.  Back on the bikeway, back on Lindell Road.  They are warmed up, I am tired.  At least I kept them in sight.  So much so that I saw Callie miss the turn (the one Brian rightly had the last time and who was waiting a bit past it this time); I saw Brian come back and chase her down.  Well it took him at least a half mile, maybe three quarters to catch her.  I, meanwhile, stopped at the turn and waited for their return.  They never returned.  I figured they had taken the same path as the first loop, therefore headed down the correct road to the intersection I knew they would come to.  Sure enough, less than five minutes later they were in sight.
     We made it back to Decker Lane, but rather than stay on course and take a right turn, we intentionally went straight.  Without the backed up traffic, cars were now at full speed.  We didn't need that hassle.  So we rode an extra couple of miles and picked up the bikeway and cruised back to our starting point and the cars.  I got my wheels back.
     What with the wind and trying to keep up with Brian and Callie, I was pretty much tuckered out.  It was fun and nobody got hurt (always a good thing).  I've written before how I can be going full bore and look in my mirrors and she seems to be filing her nails (certainly not being winded).  She feels the same when she rides with Todd and Brian and whoever else.  But that is the good part of riding with friends.  You give it your best, and if they are faster they'll wait at an appropriate place.  It's about riding, not about placing.

Monday, April 3, 2017


     Regular Readers know I make repeated claims that I'm into racing mainly because it keeps me in good cycling form.  I got into Senior Games in 2004 as an adjunct to my club rides and touring vacations, and found it to be fun.  The competition is healthy and friendly.  My toughest opponent is also my team mate when we do teams.  We like to win, but mainly we like to do well.
     Which brings me to today's post.  For the last year and a half I haven't been doing all that well, climaxing with a dismal last place in the USAC time trials.  My leg strength was abysmal.  Had I not been racing against guys my own age (within the five-year age category), I might have chalked it up to finally getting old.  But they were ageing at the same rate, so it had to be me.  I made some changes last November.
     In February my first races in College Station went well.  I felt some life in the legs, winning the time trials and also a surprise gold in the road race.  In March, under very windy conditions in Dallas, I managed a gold and silver (also a bronze in the road race, but there were only three guys in my category, it was a very distant third).  More importantly, the legs felt good.
     Yesterday, the races in San Antonio were delayed an hour while a line of thunder storms rolled through.  Apparently the threat of rain and with this not being a qualifying year for Nationals combined to reduce the field.  The first race of the morning was the 10k time trial.  The road was wet and we had a strong wind in our face going up the back-side hill.  While not particularly steep, it seems to go on forever and with the wind I had to move all the way up the cogs.  I took the corners gingerly, scrubbing speed and not leaning as much.  But the conditions were the same for everybody.  I came in over a minute faster than second place.
     With the wind and now sunny skies, the course dried out for the second race, the 20k road race.  I found myself alone in my category, so more or less noodled five laps.  Mind you, I still worked hard but absent race tactics it was more or less a time trial without aero equipment.  I didn't get lapped, and actually passed a few of the younger riders.
     An hour later it was time for the 5k time trial.  Usually San Antonio has a two-day schedule, with the 10k tt and 20k road race on Saturday and the 5k tt and 40k road race on Sunday.  Apparently Saturday wasn't available this year, so they deleted the 40k road race and did the other three on Sunday.  Anyhow, my legs were tired.  This was an out-and-back, but still took in about three-quarters of the back-side hill plus another short one.  My previous slowest time has now been exceeded by forty-five seconds.  But again, I managed to come in first.
     I  measure success by how well my body moves the bike, not the placement in a race.  Of course, winning usually means I'm in good shape.  I'm looking forward to our vacation in the North Georgia mountains.  This is where I'll know for sure if I have my legs back.