MY TRIP(S) TO THE ER

This post has nothing to do with cycling, but it easily could.  It has nothing to do with yesterday's post.  It has to do with hydration, or lack thereof.  I won't use the term "dehydration" because that has a specific medical definition.  No, my trip to the ER yesterday was caused by ignoring what I know needs to be done prior to exercise.  As the title suggests, this wasn't the first time lack of hydration sent me to the hospital.  So, when I experienced symptoms yesterday I knew I'd screwed up, but also knew what to do.  You can skip to the last paragraph if you just want my cycling  hydration recommendations.

My regular morning routine has me waking up at some ungodly hour, usually between 3:30 and 4:00, going to the kitchen, taking a thyroid pill and drinking 12 ounces of water.  This routine was initiated after my first trip to the ER, about ten years ago.  Yesterday I was wide awake at 1:30, tossed and turned until 2:30, then got out of bed and wrote yesterday's blog.  Because I was up so early, I took the pill, but only drank enough water to get it down.  Then I blogged.  That took me to 4:15, which was when I started to get ready to go to the gym.  Before leaving I had ten grams of protein drink, about 5 ounces.

At the gym, my warm-up was on the chest machine, followed by pecs.  Three sets of 65 lbs by 12 reps.  I got a little twinge in my left pec after the third set.  I didn't think anything about it since I was working on pecs.  I did two additional shoulder exercises, and my left shoulder was tighter than I thought it should.  But that's the one where I destroyed the AC joint ligaments, so I shrugged it off.  The next set was lateral raises, only ten pounds.  After just one rep, I put the weights back on the rack and sat down.  The left chest pain returned.  I took my pulse and it was weak.  Realization dawned.  

I picked up my coat and water bottle and headed toward the door.  After about ten steps I stopped to sit down at one of the machines.  The weakness subsided and after a few minutes I stood up.  It returned, so I sat down, then, remembering previous instructions, laid down and put my feet up.  That helped.  But when I sat up, I knew I couldn't stand.  At that time, I motioned one of the other guys over and asked if they would go to the front and have them call 911.

The EMTs were very fast in arriving.  They did their thing, being very thorough and professional.  I was happy to go to the ER because I wanted verification that I hadn't actually had a heart episode and nothing was damaged.  The other patrons were very good in not gawking.  I give St. David's Round Rock ER high marks.  A bunch of tests confirmed I'd done no damage.  Take a few days off.

In my experience, lack of hydration actually occurs the day prior to poor performance.  Yes, you should be consuming at minimum 16 ounces of water, or supplement, per hour of cycling.  Drink up, whether or not you feel like it.  Of course, in hot weather or heavy exercise, drink more.  I find that if I'm only cycling for an hour, draining a 20 oz. water bottle isn't a problem.  It is in the three-hour-plus rides, when I use my Camelbak, that I fall short.  I weigh every morning.  If you have an unexplained drop in weight, like a pound or pound and a half, that is most likely water weight that needs to be replaced ASAP.  If your HR is ten or so beats high relative to the effort you are putting out, you need more water and probably electrolytes.  If you have an unexplained headache, drink water.  Most people take an aspirin with water.  Probably the water is all they need.  Be cognizant of all of the diuretics you consume (caffeinated drinks, alcohol, chocolate) and offset that with water.  Better to pee more than leave your body under hydrated.  Perhaps TMI, but I monitor urine color.  Anything other than clear or pale yellow will dictate one or more glasses of water.  And, just as important, include electrolytes.  Potassium and sodium facilitate absorbing water into the system.  I was in serious trouble after hiking the Grand Canyon even though I drank enough water.  I hadn't included salt.  My companions were traumatized and as luck would have it, our vehicle was being followed by an ambulance.  On non-cycling days I consume about 36 ounces of water.  This is less than what is suggested, but seems like enough.  Food and other liquids make up the rest of what is needed.  Lack of hydration in younger folks will probably just be manifested in a lackluster performance, but eventually the body will take more drastic measures.  Make daily water consumption a priority routine.

  

MY JOURNEY TO THE HOUR-RECORD ATTEMPT

 There were two diverse elements that went into my abrupt decision to attempt the hour record.  The first was the fallout of the pandemic.  2020 was motoring along nicely, cycling-wise, until March 16.  I had put in some good preparation for the upcoming races and felt quite ready.  On March 12 I raced at The Driveway and was quite pleased with my results.  Then the race calendar was erased.  Not in one fell swoop, but as it turned out, all my practicing went for naught.  Racing wasn't the only casualty.  Group rides also took a hit.  Don't get me wrong, I'm fine with solo riding and did a lot of it.  But riding with a bunch of youngsters who are faster pushes me beyond what I do when by myself.  And the outlook for 2021 was just as bleak.  It wasn't in my conscious thought, but I knew my fitness was deteriorating and I needed some goal to get me back to peak performance.

Let me back up a bit.  In 2019 I felt the need to strengthen my upper body, specifically core and triceps.  Especially triceps, since in longer time trials they complain much sooner than the legs (the neck actually complains even before the race starts).  In a previous post, I explained that I had one session using Activtrax, a computerize trainer the Y offers, before the Y closed down for a few months.   But it came back and I'm there most weekday mornings.

The second random element was a post by my friend, Carolyn.  She displayed a picture of her new bike, a fixed gear track bike, and noted that it was fun riding around the veloway.  Carolyn is a competitive cyclist and former national champion and probably will be again next year.  I saw her a few weeks after that post and casually mentioned that I already knew one hour-record holder and would be delighted to know two.  We chuckled and moved on.  Shortly thereafter, one early morning sitting at the computer, that remark returned and I wondered how fast my friend, Clif, went to obtain his record.  Fortunately for me, Clif is about twenty years my junior and regularly abolishes his competition in Senior Games time trials.  Well, the list of record holders is displayed by age-categories, so I wandered down to the 75-79 and 80-84 categories.  When I got to the 80-84 and calculated the speed (it's shown in distance), I caught my breath (figuratively).  Then I pulled up ( I have a spread sheet with all of my races) the Heads or Tails Time Trials from 2018.  This race is the only 40k TT I've competed in, and I've done it three times.  My speed, outside, with an incline that kicked my butt in the latter part of the race, was the same as the hour-record.  Eureka!  A goal for me to train toward.

First I had to find out if I could even ride a fixed gear bike without injuring myself or others.  As it so happened, my friend, Brian, had a commuter fixed gear that was sitting unused in his garage that he was happy to loan me.  This was perfect, in that it had front and rear brakes.  Track bikes have no brakes.  I took it out to Old Settlers Park, to a deserted parking lot and pushed off.  It had old-fashioned cage pedals and for the life of me I couldn't flip the left pedal up in order to insert my foot.  So I ignored it and slowly pedaled around the lot getting the feel of never coasting.  Once back home I switched out the pedals for mountain bike clip-ins.  It took a month of practice before I determined I could ride a fixed gear at speed, as long as I didn't have to stop quickly.  This was in February, 2021.

As we learn in Business 101, in order to satisfactorily attain your goal you must have a plan.  You implement the plan, but be willing to deviate or revise if the plan isn't working.  Part of my plan was to have benchmarks that had to be reached if I were to continue.  So far, my goal hadn't cost any money.  But now I needed a track bike.  And a coach.  I contacted Carolyn and inquired who it was she knew who could help me out.  She put me in touch with Willy, now my coach.  

Just because it's a bicycle doesn't mean it doesn't have it's own lexicon which was entirely foreign to me.  I had zero idea of what to look for in a bike, what components I needed, zilch.  That was part of Willy's job, which was done admirably.  Willy's "track" is the veloway, a three-mile loop restricted to bikes and roller-blades.  His assessment after our initial ride was I needed more time to get acclimated to fixed gear without brakes (at this time I was still on Brian's bike) and lots of time on rollers.  I would also need aero bars.

Back in 2000, in anticipation of my coast-to-coast trip, I obtained rollers and used them in the winter months to train.  I might have been on them a half-dozen times since, preferring to use a trainer, which requires less concentration.  While I highly recommend rollers, until you get used to them, they can be daunting.  Getting clipped-in can be tricky.  At first I'd have to hold on to something with my right hand as I warmed up.  After two minutes or so, I'd let go and hope I wouldn't veer off the rollers and crash. I never did, but it was still sketchy and adrenaline spiking.  After about a month I got to where I could let go after twenty seconds and keep it straight.  Then I could practice going from the hoods to the drops, because the final goal has me in an aero position.  The benchmark of facile use of rollers gets a check mark.  BTW, the implementation of the rollers is to increase my cadence from where I'm most comfortable at 80 rpm, to 90 rpm.  It also makes me a more balanced rider.

All of this riding at the veloway is good, but the record attempt will be made in a velodrome.  I was at a velodrome in our coast-to-coast trip but didn't ride on it.  The slanted sides were quite imposing.  That was the next benchmark.  If I couldn't ride around a velodrome, there was no point in continuing.  I suppose that should have come before purchasing the bike.  In any case, Brian and I ventured down to Houston to the only velodrome in Texas, Alkek.  Stuart is the track manager and was very helpful in getting me the information needed to decide when I could get in my initial velodrome experience.  In order to ride a velodrome, you must take a class.  Let me say that Carl did a superior job in putting on the class.  We had a lot of fun, learned a lot, and came out feeling that riding a velodrome was no problem at all.  In fact, Brian is making noises about coming down and racing.  

My plan is to make maybe a half-dozen trips to Alkek.  After which, I will determine how many more times I need to go.  To that end I purchased a Silver Pass which allows me to schedule unlimited practice sessions.  Because I'm retired, it doesn't impact the track calendar at all to schedule a late morning weekday session.  Stuart was available on my first trip, to show me what I needed to do.  But subsequently, I would have the track to myself.  The only requirement is there must be at least one other person in attendance.  My first trip after the class was just for an hour, consisting of a warm-up, thirty minutes of concentrated riding, and cool-down.  The goal was twenty miles per hour and keeping the bike steady close to the black line without going under it.  I was very pleased to have met the mph goal, not so much with keeping steady.  Just like the rollers, this will require more hours of velodrome riding than I first thought.  Plus, this first ride was in the drops and I needed to obtain aero bars and see if I can control the bike properly.  I'm confident I can, the question is how much practice will it take.  But that is why I started a year early.  I graduate to the 80-84 group next year.

Let me say a few words about Stuart and Carl.  Complete strangers when we met at the class.  And yet they immediately took it upon themselves to do whatever they could to help me achieve my goal.  Carl happily supplied me with articles on track racing when I inquired about gearing.  I peppered Stuart with questions which he graciously answered.   As we were leaving the track after my session, I mentioned that if Stuart knew anyone with an aero cockpit (combination handlebars and aero bars) they had in their garage and would like to lend, rent, or sell, have them get in touch with me.  He thought a moment and said the track might have one, and walked up to the storage area to see.  He came back with cockpit in hand, a very nice Zipp.  I could take it with me, see if it worked, and if so could pay for it online or just bring it back next time I came.  The price was extremely reasonable.

Back home, I installed the new addition and took it out to Old Settlers Park to give it a try.  Previously, in order to practice taking corners in the aero position, I used my time trial bike doing ovals that approximated the velodrome.  Time trial bikes are not known for their agility, but I had an acceptable workout on it.  I was quite pleased with how much more control I had on the fixed gear.  Because I had a strenuous workout the day before, my legs weren't up to pushing hard or long, but two fifteen-minute sessions convinced me that the transition to being aero was not the problem I anticipated.  Now I needed to see how that translated at Alkek.

My next session on the rollers brought an unwelcome, but not unanticipated, hurdle.  By now my roller sessions had progressed from four fifteen-minutes to two thirty-minutes.  And, as previously mentioned, I could change hand positions from the hoods (there aren't really hoods on a track bike, but the area where they would be if there were) to the drops.  It took several weeks before I became proficient in going from one to the other.  With the new cockpit, there are no drops.  I was too chicken to move to the aero bars.  As a result, after twenty minutes my hands started to go numb and at twenty-five minutes I lost feeling in a couple of fingers in my left hand.  I stuck it out for the full thirty minutes before safely coming to a halt.  My next session consisted of practice getting on and off the aero bars.

By July my confidence was quite high.  The practice sessions at Old Settlers and on the rollers brought me to attempting a serious hour attempt at Alkek.  I had also opened a dialog with Felt and had received positive feedback on my inquiry as to having them loan me their $25,000 track bike.  That bike plus being on the track in Colorado Springs should add at least two mph to my Alkek speed.  So with high hopes we ventured to Alkek on July 18th.  Marilane was with me because you cannot ride at the track by yourself.

As I warmed up on the track I thought how lucky I was to have moderate weather in Houston in July.  I warmed up for ten minutes then took a short break to hydrate and prepare for sixty uninterrupted minutes.  For the hour record you don't hydrate.  The goal was 85 rpm which should generate 20 mph.  As it turned out, I averaged 84 rpm and 19.8 mph and my lap times were very consistent.  Clif, my mentor, told me the first twenty minutes would seem easy, the next hard and the third excruciatingly difficult.  I breezed through the first twenty minutes with a heart rate in the low 130's and the next twenty in the high 130's.  My plan was to hold the heart rate in the mid-140's, so I felt extremely  pleased with myself, knowing I had enough energy to complete the whole hour.  Because of that, I wanted to separate the last twenty minutes in order to evaluate just how much more difficult it was.  

This is where the old wives tale comes in.  You can't teach an old dog new tricks.  During my practice at the Veloway and Old Settlers Park I would occasionally forget I was on a fixed gear bike and attempt to cruise.  This would result in some pain in my knees and perhaps an awkward turn of a corner.  As I hit the computer button, muscle-memory kicked in and my legs stopped powering the pedals.  With one hand not on the bars, my knee jerked and hit them (I think) and I instantly went down.  Both feet were stuck in the pedals, and I had pain in my clavicle.  Still on my side, I gave a thumbs-up to Marilane who saw I had gone down (opposite side of the track) so she could lower her anxiety level just a tad.  

She loosened my shoes so I could get my feet free.  After a few tries getting to the car and not having the strength to walk, she went to get it. Once in the car, we rode back through the narrow gate and stopped to load the bike. Fortunately for us, a gentleman and family happened to be going by the velodrome and had come in to let their child ride around.  He was helping with the bike and I got out of the car to instruct to put the back end in first.  Big mistake!  As I was talking, I fainted.  According to Marilane, he caught me before I hit the ground, picked me up and settled me back into the front seat.  Without him, we would have been at the mercy of Houston's 911.  As it was, Marilane thanked him profusely,  locked the gate, and headed to the hospital.  By this time I had come to and was able to sit quietly while she navigated first to the Children's Hospital then a bit further to the ER.  Several hours in the ER revealed no broken bones, a separated AC joint, no concussion,  a surprisingly small amount of road rash, and a whole lot of bruising.  The bike has not a scratch on it, the left shoe is scuffed, the skin suit has a few holes in it,  and both gloves are torn.  There is a shallow dent in the helmet smaller than a dime.

A whole lot of logistical problems would have needed to be overcome before an actual attempt at the hour record could be mounted, and there is no doubt in my mind I could do it.  However, there was also no doubt that I would continue to have lapses in concentration.  The next time I might not be so lucky.  Therefore, my fixed-gear adventure has come to a close.  Should anyone be wanting a slightly used, very good track bike for Christmas, I will give you a super deal on it and various accessories.

Meanwhile, time trialing and road racing are still on my agenda.  My fitness has taken a hit, but I have until May to get up to speed, so to speak.  

 

PATTING MYSELF ON THE BACK

     This post is a result of some repartee between Todd and Jason regarding my palmares.  I have previously posted my racing history, but because of their banter, will repeat it here, with one addition.  If stats bore you, skip to the end paragraph.

     I will point out that I'm fully aware that I'm a big fish in a small pond.  A very small pond.  But that is what Senior Games and age-group racing is all about.  While we are competitive, it is more about the racing than the placement.  We pretty much know the results once we see who showed up to race.  That doesn't keep us from giving our best shot.  Here are my stats dating back to 2004 when I first started racing.

     I've entered 159 races, some of which were ten-year age groups, thus relegating me off the podium.  Of those races I've taken gold 47, silver 46, and bronze 30. 36 times I missed the podium.  I don't keep track of the number of times I finished last.  That's 77% podium finishes.

     Of the 159 races, 109 were time trials.  Gold 40, silver 36, bronze 19.  That's 87% podium finishes.  Road races were 46 and gold was 7, silver 10, bronze 11, and other 18.  That brings podium finishes down to 61%.  The last 4 were criteriums.  I don't count playing at the Driveway because while all the other guys were racing, I was just giving myself a good workout.  I eschew criteriums and only enter if they are part of something else.  Like USAC Nationals.  I managed to snag a bronze in 2018.

     From 2009 thru 2018 I was a State Champion except for 2012 and 2013 where I was silver medalist.  In 2017 I was silver medalist at Nationals.  So I do okay when the pond gets a bit bigger.

     One other thing about age-group racing: the older you get, the more important it is to be the youngest in your age group.  Most of my golds came in the first two years and the off-podium in the last two.  Which is why I'm looking ahead to next year, when once again I'm youngest in my category.

     So, Todd and Jason, I have 14 1/2 pound of medals.  I only have 115 medals, and have no idea about the discrepancy.  It wasn't feasible to remove the medals from the frame, so I could not do a plank with them, and declined to do a plank with the others.  As for the plank itself, I just started back up doing them, so can hold it for 90 seconds.  A couple years ago I was up to three minutes.

SENIOR GAMES, DALLAS

First a little background.  The Dallas games shifted from the Texas Motor Speedway to White Rock Lake and changed their names to Golden Games.  And, just like last week's State Finals, moved the time to September.  It was unclear to me if this was still associated with the Senior Games.  As a result, I didn't feel the need to drive to Dallas for a local event.  But in conversation last week at Pace Bend, I found out that yes, they were still affiliated with Senior Games and, more importantly, there would be an induction ceremony into the Hall of Fame for my friend, mentor, and sometimes team-mate Dean Wilkinson.  I certainly didn't want to miss this, so signed up to race the two time trials and road race.

Marilane was going with me but accepted a temporary job offer, so it was just me driving to Dallas on Wednesday.  Has anyone driven up I-35 lately?  Road construction through Waco is bonkers.  I couldn't believe the number of trucks on the road, and everyone was doing the speed limit or above, no stragglers.  Waxahachie was another stretch I didn't like.  But I was safely into the hotel by 2:30 and changed and heading to White Rock Lake for a preview by 3:00.

I had a vague idea of where the start line was and rode 3.1 miles and turned around.  I did this a few more times and threw in some accelerations to get the heart rate up and a little lactic acid build up for the legs.  As it turned out, my estimation of the start line was incorrect by a couple hundred yards, but I generally had an idea of the course.  It was mostly flat, but with enough undulations that I'd be constantly shifting gears for maximum output.  True, only three gears, but in a race that is decided by seconds, you don't want to give them away.

Regular readers know my mantra of "under 65 degrees, cover the knees."  The forecast for Thursday morning was 58° so I packed my tights.  I had my wind jacket in the car, but at the last minute also packed my base layer (shirt with sleeves worn under the jersey, for those not familiar with the term).  I intended to warm up in tights and wind breaker and discard them for the race.  As it turned out, it was 56° with just a little wind at the hotel.  Maybe a few degrees cooler at the lake.  I started my warm up and about a quarter mile into it turned around and went back to the car to add the base layer.  I really wasn't feeling it and the warm up was lackluster.  Then came the news that the race timer, who also had the race numbers, had mentally put this race on Saturday (like it had always been) and so was a no-show and after a telephone call, the races would be an hour or so later than scheduled.  So, I was just as happy I hadn't put a lot of work into warming up.  And, speaking of warming up, the delay added 5-8 degrees to the temperature, so that made me happy.  As it turned out, I still did the first race in tights and base layer.

The delay also helped my attitude.  That and the fact that two of the fast guys, who I know are faster than me, although they signed up, they didn't come.  So it was only two of us in my age group.  Bob is faster than me in a road race but I usually beat him in the time trials.  Unfortunately, he started thirty seconds behind me.  My 10k is always better than the 5k, so I determined I wouldn't go all-out for this first race (5k).  It took me two minutes to reach a HR of 142.  That is about 88% of my maximum and something that I can hold for a long time.  With a mile to go I ooched it up to 150 and finished strong.  Bob couldn't tell if he made up the thirty seconds, so we had to wait for the results.  He had not.

Due to the hour delay, it was determined the 10k would begin immediately following the 5k.  I had about fifteen minutes or so.  I went back to the car and removed the base layer and tights.  I put on my Aggie shoe covers (at my speed they are only for looks and not really aero dynamic) and switched to my time trial helmet (which actually does help).  Given my output for the 5k, I actually looked forward to doing the 10.  Once again, it took two minutes go get my HR up to race speed.  But this time it was a few beats higher on average.  I could tell at the turn-around that Bob was losing ground.  I held steady the whole way.  Training Peaks gave me gold medals for 5 minute (150) and 10 minute (149) heart rate, which is easily 95% of maximum.

I had barely enough time to return to the car to switch bikes for the road race.  I also switched out the Stages Power Meter crank so I could have data for it.  A quick Clif Bar and protein drink and I was back to the start line.  Dang!  Two additional riders for our age group.  Fresh legs, pook ding-fu!  Plus, one of the guys I knew was much stronger.  Unlike Pace Bend, we were divided into ten year age groups, with the young guys going out thirty seconds ahead of us.  We also had an 80 year old who with our group but he was dropped from the outset.

The two fresh legs led out with Bob then me tagging along.  My legs were feeling the 10k and I was determined to draft as long as I could.  About five minutes into the race, we could see the younger group wasn't going as fast as we were.  That was somewhat of a surprise.  Our leader launched out and attempted to bridge up.  A minute or so later, Bob jumped and also tried to bridge up.  I was happy to continue to draft (the wind was picking up, in our face).  Almost to the turn-around, I detected a slight weakness in my partner and attacked and quickly picked up 20-30 yards and another 20 yards after the turn.  Unfortunately, my lead was short lived and I saw in my mirror he had accelerated and quickly was on my wheel.

Dang!  I tried slowing slightly to let him come around but he didn't.  I was looking at nine miles of leading.  If that was going to be the case, I'd do it at my comfort level and I settled into a less stressful output.  Bob, at this point, was long gone.   At the half-way turn-around I again tried an acceleration but he easily caught back up.  I was looking at fourth place.  But as we rode along, I noticed in my mirror that he wasn't drafting.  He was behind maybe five yards and to my left.  In retrospect, the first time I gained ground on him was a slight decline and left turn.  With a couple of miles to go, he would come up beside me, then drop back.  I was thinking, he's playing with me and can drop me anytime he wants.  As we approached the finish, I increased cadence (I didn't have the legs to actually jump) and powered away for the bronze.  In talking with him afterwards, he admitted he didn't like accelerating in a curve.  And I didn't ask, but I suspect he's new to racing which is why he took the gentlemanly position of not drafting.  I feel badly about not conversing with him more.  Maybe next race.

Well, racing season is over for me and it's time to get ready for next year.  Next year, my year.  I move up an age category and leave most of these guys who can beat me behind.  I know my best event is the long time trial and I'll be spending a lot of time honing my positioning.  Senior Games is in Fort Lauderdale and we already have the hotel booked.  Waiting to see when and where USA Cycling is holding their race, hoping it isn't at altitude.  I may go to Senior Games in Arkansas and Oklahoma for the first time, although Dean has been asking me to go for years.

WHINING ABOUT PACE BEND

 I don't believe I've done a post yet about Pace Bend Park without mentioning how I dislike riding there.  Perhaps if I were a stronger rider I'd like it more.  But I'm not.  My latest foray was yesterday for the Senior Games State Finals.  This post takes a bit of a ramble, so bear with me.

For starters, this race is usually early in the year, but like many things, it was pushed back.  Generally, Senior Games cycling consists of 40k and 20k road races and 10k and 5k time trials.  In the past they have been held on Saturday and Sunday and my favorite was San Antonio because they paired the 5k time trial and 40k road race one day and the 10k and 20k the next.  What with money and sponsors getting tight, in order to stay viable, races have been reduced to one day.  Some venues just do the 20k road race and the two time trials.  But this year at Pace Bend, the line-up started with the 40k road race followed by the 20k road race, then the two time trials.  

It is really more logical to start with the time trials and save the road races to later.  When I saw the itinerary, I skipped the 40k road race knowing my legs would be toast for anything that followed.  There were five signed up in my age group for the 40k and four for the 20k.  After the race, two of the four skipped the 20k in order to save their legs for the time trials.  That left me and Fred to duel it out.  That is a laugh, Fred is much faster than me.

The other thing I didn't like was that they started all the guys together rather than doing age groups.  I have a hard enough time keeping up with 70 year olds let alone 50 somethings.  So, lets get to the racing.  Off we went, with me being mid-pack.  Hindsight says I should have been on the left, outside.  All went well for about 50 yards.  The left foot of the guy in front of me comes out of his clip, if it ever was actually clipped.  That slowed me down and cost a few positions.  But I found a nice large back to draft off of, going slightly uphill into the wind.  The pack already had a gap and I was already at 90% HR so following was my choice.  We were making good time on a downhill with a turn to the left.  A big guy comes past me on the left, realizes he is going to fast and brakes (nobody brakes going downhill!) and drifts to his right.  Which is right in front of me.  Besides an expletive, I had to brake and swerve, and watched my big back get away from me.

All of this in the first mile.  Now it was just the two of us, the young inexperienced rider who is fast going downhill and slow going up and me who is finding out that I have no real extra push when the HR is at 95%.  Two laps of Pace Bend with me passing him on the uphill and he passing me going down.  On the final uphill he had enough to oomph to gap me and pushed on ahead.  Fred beat me by five minutes.

Not counting the time trial earlier this year, this was my first race.  Training Peaks gave me awards for 1,5,and 10 minutes heart rate.  Strava gave me a PR for one segment. Garmin advised to rest for 69 hours.  I didn't finish last.  I was so bushed after the race that I skipped the time trials.   Well, I needed to know where I stood.  I was hoping it was better than what I did.  

 

HITTING THE ROAD, UPDATE

 

My December 30, 2016 post listed the number of times I'd hit the deck in the last thirty years of cycling.  I've copied it here, and added the eighth incident which happened last Sunday.  So, we go with #8 in a bit more detail, then the other seven.  Be sure to read the very last line at the bottom.  My next post will explain why I was even at Alkek, but this entry is just the incident itself.

As I warmed up on the track I remarked to myself how lucky I was to be in Houston in late July and having this moderate weather.  That is, not sticky hot.  My practice session consisted of a ten minute warm-up then sixty uninterrupted minutes in the aerobars. The goal was 85 rpm.  I had been told that the first twenty minutes would be easy, the second twenty minutes would be hard and the last twenty minutes would be really difficult.  I was doing much better than expected, so much so that I decided to record the first forty minutes separate from the last twenty.  As I hit the computer button, muscle-memory kicked in and my legs stopped powering the pedals.  With one hand not on the bars my knee jerked and hit them (I think) and I instantly went down.  Fortunately, a gentleman had stuck his head in to see what was going on and helped Marilane get me into our car.  Several hours in the ER revealed no broken bones, but a separated AC joint, a surprisingly small amount of road rash, and a whole lot of bruising.  

 After a recent incident, I posted that in the last thirty years I'd crashed seven times and have been fortunate enough to have escaped without a breaking a bone.  That number was "off the top of my head" but now I have taken the time to remember all of them, not counting falling over after just getting my first set of clips.

     The first time came as I was following my son out of the neighborhood (McNeil Road and I-35 for those in the Round Rock area).  We have to cross railroad tracks.  Yes, we know how to cross them.  But for some reason, maybe traffic, he swerved and got caught and went down, and I swerved to miss him and also caught my wheel and went down.  More embarrassment than anything, we got up and continued riding.
     My second crash happened in the garage.  I recently purchased a set of rollers to assist in winter preparation for my coast-to-coast journey (2001).  Like a sophomore, I became over-confident.  The rollers were situated next to a wall so I could use it to help in balancing.  One day my mind wandered and when I finished my workout, I applied the brakes rather than put my hand on the wall.  Next thing I knew, I fell over (like that tv clip of the guy on a trike falling over).  No time to unclip. Big bruise on my hip.  Forever after, I don't use a wall, rather something I can get a hand around, like the side of my pick-up, or the back porch fence.
     The third time I was along the I-35 access road near Jarrell.  I had the right-of-way, but it was on an incline and my speed only in the 5 mph range.  I saw the pick-up slowing for his stop sign, mentally registered he was stopping and kept peddling.  Rather than a complete stop, he rolled through and we collided, my front wheel to his left front fender.  This was a long ride, therefore I had my Camelbak on, and it took the brunt of me and the bike hitting his fender.  He was most apologetic and paid for a new wheel, in addition to transporting me back to my car.  I only had a big bruise and minor road rash.
     The fourth time I got caught in a drizzle after a long dry spell.  The smooth asphalt was slick.  Anderson Mill and 620 for those in the area.  I cautiously made the right turn off 620 but the back wheel slid out from under me and I slid across the lane and into the raised median.  Neither I nor the bike sustained any damage.  But the reason I remember this so well is the lady going north, waiting for the red light to change.  She steadfastly refused to acknowledge my presence, only a few feet under her car door.  Lucky for me, I didn't have any traffic waiting for me to extricate myself and get righted.
     Number five was the scariest.  It was my Sunday morning ride, on Bee Cave Road just west of 360, going downhill at close to 40 mph.  As I approached Addie Roy Road, a stopped pick-up pulled out right in front of me.  I hit the brakes and swerved right, into Addie Roy, but my rear wheel slid on gravel and I went down really hard.  Again, the Camelbak rescued me, but I lay in the middle of the road for a good three minutes, just trying to breathe and mentally check my body.  The pick-up kept driving, but apparently his conscience got the better of him and he circled back (it took several minutes).  The irony in this was he was a cyclist going out to start his ride!  I had to call my wife to gather me and the bike up.
     Number six happened on a group ride.  Our group leader is very conscientious about safety, and always gives a briefing before we start out.  One of his points is that on left turns we shouldn't be cutting the corner into the lane of oncoming traffic, but keep it wide into our own lanes.  This was in the fall (actually winter, but it was when the trees shed their leaves).  On one particular corner the combination of turning wide and wet leaves in the gutter had me once again on the ground.  Pook ding-fu!  I had a cut finger, and my left knee had a few gashes.  I still have the tatoo they left, three years since, but it is slowly fading.
     And the last one.  Another group ride, Christmas Eve.  A nice twenty mile (was going to be thirty, but things happened so we cut it short) to downtown Austin and back.  I really enjoyed the riding, and tucked in behind a friend with whom I've ridden before.  We were on a concrete hike/bike trail when he lost concentration and wandered off into the grass.  A slight over-correction on his part, and slow reaction on mine, and wheels touched.  I went down in a hurry.  Again, I had the Camelbak, this time festooned with lights.  So many times, this type of crash results in a broken collarbone.  I escaped with only minor road rash.  Not even my jersey (my Christmas one) was torn.
     Each accident has taught me a lesson, and I remain quite thankful it didn't come with a broken bone.  Maybe after reading this, you too will change a bad habit or become more aware of your surroundings when out riding.  As Professor Moody would exclaim: CONSTANT VIGILANCE!

ME AND BIKES

 The other day I felt a momentary twinge in an unmentionable part of my body.  This twinge unlocked a memory of an incident when I was a pre-teen.  That, in turn, got me thinking of other memorable moments of me and bikes.  I'll try to take them in chronological order.  I'm omitting the addresses of the many homes we lived in (cyber-security), but I remember them all.

At an early age I started on a tricycle.  I have a vague memory of riding around the block, perhaps to the Marsden's house.  I also had a scooter, which helped in my balance when I got my first bike.  The first bike was a hand-me-down from my cousin, Jan.  I was fortunate that it was a girl's bike because it was 'way too big for me and I couldn't sit on the saddle and pedal.  There was an alley across the street that was flat and that is where I honed my skill.  The alley behind our house was inclined and it wasn't long before I could do that.  I remember riding several blocks on a busy (by 1940's standard) road to the playground, so I guess I grew into the bike.  Unlike today's kids, I walked to school, which was maybe a mile or so away.  We moved when I was in 4th grade.

I don't remember getting it, but I know I had an "English" bike with Sturmey-Archer gears.  I'd ride it everywhere.  The most vivid memory was coming home.  The walkway led to the front porch and went down two steps along the side of the house to the back yard.  Somehow, I didn't stop at the front porch and went down the two steps, my feet coming off the pedals and me landing on the cross bar.  That really hurt.  Fifteen or so years later I learned that one of my testicles was crushed (the doctor didn't use that term).  I suspect this is the incident that caused it.

Next house, next memory.  Seventh or eighth grade, and I remember getting a new bike for Christmas.  It was red, single speed.  The following Christmas is the real memory.  For whatever reason, I had seen a punch bowl set in a store in Silver Spring, about ten miles away.  I knew the way by car and talked my neighbor, Dickie, into going with me.  We made it to the store and I made the purchase.  The salient facts: I rode one-handed the whole way back, holding the box with the other; I under-estimated the time and it was getting dark before we got back; both sets of parents were distraught; I don't think Dickie was allowed to associate with me after that.

I have to digress a bit.  Back when I was still riding the trike, my big brothers, Jack and Richard, cycled from DC to Baltimore and back one Saturday.  They proved it by mailing a post-card from Baltimore.  I don't remember the event, but it was legendary in the family, retold many times.  It made me want to do something similar.  The Silver Spring caper may have been influenced by their ride.  I know that in high school, I planned a ride down into Virginia, about a hundred miles total.  That never materialized, but sat in a corner of my mind until much later.

Once I learned to drive, the bike was forgotten, and we have to skip from 1960 to 1975.  Now married with three kids.  We were living in Austin.  There was a lot of hype regarding the upcoming Bicentennial.  This included a coast-to-coast bike trip, The BikeCentennial.  That captured my imagination.  I researched bikes, purchased a Schwinn Sports Tourer (which I still have), and proceeded to train.  I rode to Inks Lake, yes 183 and 29.  Then I rode to Waco, Interstate access road.  At least, that was the plan.  It was a family trip to Dallas.  I was going to ride to Waco and Marilane would pick me up on the road.  Saturday morning arrived, along with a cold front.  I had inadequate clothing, being new to long-distance cycling, so was chilled for the first hour or so.  I remember stopping (what is now Hester's Crossing) in Round Rock to ponder going through town or taking the Interstate, since there wasn't an access road.  I took the Interstate.  I stopped in Temple for lunch and was tempted to call it a day.  The temperature had risen and was comfortable but the north wind was wearing me out.  But we had calculated where I would be to intersect with Marilane and I had a few more hours to go.  As it turned out, I made it as far as the long hill going into Lorena.  Timing was perfect, I was only waiting about fifteen minutes before I saw Marilane coming.  I packed up the car and not long after was snoozing in the passenger seat.  Circumstances prevented me from doing BikeCentennial, but that dream never went away.

A memory from Corpus Christi.  It was a ride from northwest CC towards, I think, Robstown.  My son, Chris, was in 5th or 6th grade and he accompanied me.  This is a hazy memory, but I remember we didn't make it to Robstown and the $5 I had in my pocket for snacks and drinks had somehow come out of my pocket and left us high and dry.  A fun ride turned into a chore, but we made it back unscathed, if parched.

Back in Austin, and it was getting close to retirement.  You know it is close to retirement when the job you've enjoyed for thirty years begins to lose its appeal.  I was fortunate in my bosses, however, and received permission to cobble two years vacation together and actually complete the coast-to-coast trip.  My attitude at work had been deteriorating, and this trip finished it off.  But I hung around another four years.  The remainder of my biking adventures can be found in my two books, Bicycle Journeys with Jerry and Gotta Go! and on my blog Jerryscyclingblog.blogspot.com.  You might want to follow my blog because I'm not writing another book and I have one more big adventure left in me.