Brian "The Hammer" Terczynski's Blog

Wide Open Field

2012-02-08T16:58:00.000-08:00

I am changing . . .

It is inevitable . . . my life is changing . . .

With Ronny, there was stability. We had a plan. We had direction. We had dreams. I always had someone at home, waiting for me, loving me. Ronny was my safety. No matter what was going on in the world, Ronny would unconditionally love me and comfort me. Ronny was my comfort. He was my world.

That world has been shattered.

My life has been turned upside down. I am becoming a new man. It is happening. I cannot avoid it. I cannot stop it.

What kind of man will I become?

What is my path?

I stand, a man alone, in front of a wide open field. Before me is an uncharted path, with many turns and forks. What path will I follow? Where will I be taken?

I no longer have Ronny to guide me. I am on my own now. I miss him . . . so much . . . . But there is nothing I can do to bring him back.

His spirit will always be with me. I will always love him, and honor his memory.

But I face a new life ahead . . . in this wide open field.

Friends

2012-01-25T19:33:00.000-08:00

Last August, I lost my best friend in the whole wide world. I lost the love of my life, my soul mate, the man who was always there for me. The man who loved me unconditionally: Ronny Green.

Without him, I am alone. I have no more soul mate. I have no confidant. I am now...on my own. What's my purpose now? Why I should keep going? Why should I continue living? What good am I...to anyone?

There's only one thing that's kept me going: my friends and family.

After Ronny died, all my friends and family rallied around me. They were there for me. They comforted me. They loved me. They took care of me. They called me. They visited me. They showed up en masse to Ronny's funeral, to be there for me.

I don't know what I would have done without them.

Over the last several months since Ronny died, my friends and family have done SO many wonderful things for me. I cannot possibly name all of them in this one blog entry, but I am going to name a few. Around the time of the funeral, I had friends help me with funeral arrangements. My dearest mom and step-dad took time off of work and drove down from Montana just to be with me. My mom and step-dad cleaned my house and cooked for me. Ronny's family flew out from Ohio to be here with me. Ronny's and my dear friend drove with me to LAX and back, twice, to transport Ronny's family. My dearest cycling friend brought over food to ensure I kept eating. Another cycling friend met me at dog park so that Nitro would have some company and get his mind off of the loss of his daddy. Ronny's best friend help me get the reception set up. Several friends helped me find a place to hold the reception. And countless friends called me and messaged me that week. I had an overwhelming outpouring of support that week.

After the funeral, a good friend of mine cooked me some delicious food and delivered it to my house. I had another friend go with me to dog park with Nitro. My step-aunts invited me over to several dinners at their lovely home. When I went back to Ohio for Ronny's second Memorial, a dear friend of mine looked after Nitro while I was gone, and another dear friend transported me to and from the airport.

On my birthday, which was only one week after Ronny's funeral and two weeks after his death, my entire cycling team held a memorial ride for Ronny. It was one of the most attended rides our team has ever had. And they were all there to rally around me. Later that evening, my friends put together a birthday party for me. I felt so much love and kindness from my teammates and friends...it was truly overwhelming...

When I returned to work, all my co-workers were so supportive and understanding of me. They ensured I had a workload I could manage. And they allowed me to have whatever time off I needed to take care of estate business for Ronny.

In the months that ensued, several friends whom I hadn't seen in a long time had dinner with me and met me for coffee. Friends invited me over for dinner at their houses. My dear friends in Los Angeles met up with me when I was passing through to my cycling events in central California. Ronny's and my friends and neighbors in Palm Springs met up with me and rallied around me. Our closest friends here in San Diego continued to invite me over for potlucks. And good friends of mine invited me on bike rides to ensure I was still getting on my bike and training.

Countless friends continued to send me cards, letters, e-mails and messages.

During the holidays, my dear friends invited me over to their house for Thanksgiving, so that I would not be spending the holiday alone. On Christmas, they invited me over again, and another set of dear friends invited me over to their house, thus ensuring that I would not be alone.

A dear friend of mine even lent me her laptop so that I could go to school.

Last week, I got into a cycling accident. Without question or hesitation, my good friend Gloria took me to the ER. She stayed with me the entire time, and took me to get my prescriptions filled. She has since been transporting me to work and to all of my appointments. My co-workers and managers at work have made it clear to me that they want me to heal and recover. A good friend of mine called me and talked some sense into me to make sure I did not skimp on my medical care, and that I take time to heal. My mother has threatened to get on a plane and come out and take care of me. My dear cycling friend referred me to an excellent doctor, and has given me advice on making sure I heal properly and not overdo it. Several friends have messaged their well-wishes to me. And two wonderful friends have come over to walk Nitro, when I couldn't, and do some simple chores for me around the house.

I want to know why. Why? WHY? Why are people being so nice to me? I don't deserve all this kindness...do I? What did I ever do? I mean...all this outpouring of kindness and friendship is a bit confusing to me...because it's hard for me to believe I am worthy of this. Am I really loved...that much??? Am I worthy of this? I'm not a great person. I'm not special. I don't understand why I would be worthy of having such amazing friends and family....

But maybe I should stop trying to figure it out. Maybe it's not my place, and not my business, to try to decipher the reasons why I have such beautiful people in my life. Because irregardless of the reasons, I do know this...it is an amazing, and very fortunate, blessing.

And I also know this. I am thankful. VERY thankful. Words cannot describe how thankful I am...to all of you...my friends, my family, my co-workers. You are all blessings. You are all...beautiful people. And I hope you all, right now, as you are reading this, pause for just one moment...to stop and look at yourself, and tell yourself what a wonderful person you are. Tell yourself what a kind, benevolent, loving, generous person you are. Because it's true. The proof? Just look at what a wonderful friend you have been to me. I am truly blessed to have you, my friend, in my life. I cannot thank you enough for being there for me.

I do have one request of you. Don't ever leave me! Please...stay in my life! While Ronny's spirit may be watching over me...I will never again have him here physically. I am hoping that you, as my friend, will stay in my life. Because my friends, my family, are all I've got left. And without you...I would be completely alone...and lonely.

My only hope, is that one day I can be just as good a friend to you...as you are to me...

Please Wake Me...

2011-09-05T21:53:00.000-07:00

Is this all a dream?

Is Ronny really gone?

Am I going to wake up from this nightmare?

No, this can't be happening. This can't be real. Ronny and I had plans. He just started back at school. He was right in the middle of fixing his barber chair, which he loved. He, Nitro and I were going to go to the Eastern Sierras on my birthday September 10. He was going to come with me to Death Valley in October, and photograph while I rode my bike. He was going to sell some more of his artwork. He and I were going to go to Rae'ven's graduation next June. He was going to finish the back yard in Palm Springs. We were going to visit my family in Wisconsin. He was going to be my support crew on the Furnace Creek 508 next year.

It was just yesterday he was getting the pool cleaned and the air conditioning fixed. It was just yesterday he went back to school.

We were going to retire together someday.

No, this must be a dream. This is all a dream to see what it would be like if Ronny died. The funeral. The repast. How his family would react. How I would react. This is all a dream. This is all a nightmare.

I've had nightmares before where they felt so real, but you wake up. Yes, this is just a dream. That's all it is.

Why am I not waking up? Someone . . . wake me. Please . . . WAKE ME!!!!! I'm losing my mind!

I just want to wake up . . .

Ronny Green - The Obituary

2011-09-03T22:35:00.000-07:00

Ronny Angelo Green was born to Sarah Green and Harold Chatman on January 12, 1956, in Cincinnati, Ohio. He was brought up by his hardworking, loving and amazing mother Sarah. He had many wonderful childhood experiences with his siblings: Veloris, Harold, Lisa, Voyce and Renee. His grandmother, Mary Jackson, also helped bring up Ronny with her strong, loving and protective influence. Ronny accepted Christ at an early age, attending the Shiloh Baptist Church in Cincinnati. He graduated from Hughes High School, the University of Cincinnati, and the Barbizon School of Modeling. As an aspiring model, he moved to San Francisco in 1978, where he started his own modeling agency. He served as a model, fashion show producer and modeling instructor. While in San Francisco, he met the first love of his life, Gary Baker. They lived together for several years until Gary's unfortunate passing in the mid 1980's.

Needing a life change, Ronny moved to San Diego. With that came a career change, when Ronny became a licensed cosmetologist. Ronny served many years as a hairstylist, working in many salons, until he started to experience kidney failure in the mid 1990's.

But he did not let that stop him. He went on to volunteer with San Diego Pride. At one fateful volunteer picnic, he met another volunteer named Brian Terczynski. He fell in love with Brian because Brian brought food! They eventually married, and have been together ever since.

Ronny, never letting his disability stop him, went on to floral design school, and did floral design for many events. He took cake decorating classes and made cakes that are better than those on reality TV. He made his own line of same-sex wedding cake toppers. He then attended photography school at San Diego City College. He became a master of the lost art of black-and-white film development and printing, and has had his work displayed in several coffee shops around San Diego.

On top of all of that, Ronny was actively involved in the community, serving for several years on the San Diego Pride Board of Directors, volunteering for Ebony Pride, and serving as a roadie for AIDS/LifeCycle.

The following loved ones precede Ronny in death: Harold Chatman (father), Mary Jackson (grandmother), Gary Baker (his first partner) and Sheba (his dog).

Ronny leaves to cherish his memory the following loved ones: his loving spouse Brian Terczynski; his loving mother Sarah Green; 3 sisters: Veloris Green, Arlisa Chatman and Renee Bennett; and 2 brothers: Harold Green and Voyce Green (Stephanie). He leaves behind many nieces and nephews, his loving parents-in-law Judith and Steve Anderson, and a host of many endearing friends (Gloria, John, Phelix, Boris, Tommi, Joel, Patrick, Angie, Martin, Rich, Edgar, Harold, and so many others to name) and extended family. Nitro (Brian and Ronny's dog) will also miss his daddy's constant love and trips to the park.

My Second Triple Century

2011-06-27T20:38:00.001-07:00

On June 25th, 2011, I attempted the second triple century of my career. That would be 300 miles of bicycle riding within 24 hours in the Grand Tour. I did that ride the year before in 23 hours, 29 minutes. This would be my second attempt, and a chance to beat that time.

The night before, I carbo-loaded on some Chicken Alfredo and attempted to go to sleep early, since I would need to get up at about 2:45 am, AND would be riding for almost 24 hours after that! But as usual I was too excited, so I only got about five hours (which was still pretty good). So I got up at 2:45 am, got dressed, ate a quick continental breakfast, and left the motel to drive to the starting line in Malibu.

I got to the starting line right at 4am, which was right when the route opened. There were very few riders there, so check-in was a breeze. That was great because I was able to get on the route very early for the long day ahead. I just hoped my old worn tires would last 300 miles.

I did this ride before, so I knew the route and had a strategy: TAKE IT EASY. I was going to conserve my energy for the hills (especially the 19%-grade Potrero Rd.), and just listen to my body. If I ever got tired, I would slow down and not try to fight it. If I had the energy, I would use every bit of it. I had 300 miles to go. It was going to be a long day AND night, no matter what. So I had better just settle in and save it for the long haul.

Such a strategy would have interesting consequences.

I hit PCH (Pacific Coast Highway) in Malibu at 4am. I leapfrogged with this other rider, who passed me on the downhills and flats but whom I passed on the uphills. At one point, we ended up just riding together and had a nice conversation. Like me, he did the Highland Triple last year. It's always nice to ride with fellow riders, especially since I'm usually alone and still don't know very many people in the CTC/Randonneuring community yet.

As I exited PCH in Point Mugu, and came to a stop at the stop sign at the end of the ramp, four riders blew right by me, didn't call out when passing, ran right through the stop sign, and two of them even passed me on the right. Now, I don't mind being passed (it certainly happens to me often enough), but I DO mind when riders don't warn me and even worse, pass on my right side. Don't riders at this level of riding know better? Come on! Even worse, this would not be the last time I would see such stupidity on this ride.

I arrived at the first checkpoint in Port Hueneme at 7:30am. There were very few riders there, which was nice because there was no long line for the bathrooms or the food. (Last year, Rest Stop 1 was packed!) I did what I had to do, and headed on out towards the dreaded Potrero Rd.

I took it nice and easy. I was not going to push it. I knew what was coming. I crossed the "Camarillo Basin" and reached Potrero Road. I started the first climb. I took it easy. This was not the hard part. The road eased up, and I continued my steady pace towards the steep incline. I ascended each gradual hill. And there it was. The road all of a sudden ascended into this very steep pitch. I told myself, "Here we go."

I downshifted into my lowest gear combination, and just took it steady. Even in my lowest gears, it was an extreme struggle to push that bike up that 19% grade. But I was not going to stop. I was going to finish this in one fell swoop. So I just kept pushing. My heart rate was over 90%. My sunglasses started to fog up. My breathing was getting really fast and hard. Then up ahead, I saw a car disappear under the horizon. It was the top! Already? I already finished the hill?? Wow. When I reached the top, I wanted to yell out a big, "Woohoo!" But I was out of breath.

I continued riding strong after Rest Stop 2, cruising through Lake Sherwood, Thousand Oaks, and then up to Simi Valley and Moorpark. I checked in at Rest Stop 3 and grabbed a lot of food, because I knew what was coming up . . . almost 30 miles until lunch, with two nasty climbs and almost certain headwind.

I left Rest Stop 3 and started the Grimes Canyon ascent. I then got pissed off that I had to stop to take off my arm warmers because it was getting too hot. And then, of course, I had to reapply sunscreen. I hate it when you have to do wardrobe changes in the middle of a ride; such a pain! I then started my nice technical descent down Grimes Canyon. I'm telling ya, I'm really getting good at negotiating and steering through the turns on those technicals! But as I entered Bardsdale, I could feel the wind picking up.

I turned left on Bardsdale Road, and then onto South Mountain Road. And there certainly was headwind. But it did not seem to be as bad as I remember from last year. In any event though, I decided not to fight it. I just relaxed and pedaled at a maintainable pace, especially since I knew I still had another nasty climb on Highway 150 coming up.

I reached Santa Paula, and I had to stop and down a 400+ calorie MetRx bar. (I could not wait until lunch. Hunger was approaching now! And I still had the long climb to Ojai.) I started the climb, passed Thomas Aquinas College, and had to stop and take my helmet light off since the strap buckle was making a dent in my skull and giving me a headache! I then continued the long climb, and eventually reached the top. There was a hamburger restaurant there. I was SOOOO tempted! But I knew lunch was just a flat-and-downhill away. So I continued. I reached the last technical descent before Ojai. Unfortunately, I could not take it too fast because there was too much traffic. Darned cars! I then turned onto Carne Rd. (which just made me hungrier), and then onto Grand Ave., Park Rd., and then over to lunch. Good. Because I was hungry!

I grabbed a boatload of (salty) food and ate in silence. I contemplated the ride ahead: just one more nasty climb around Lake Casitas and then the remaining 160 miles would be mostly flat (just a few rollers and some wind here and there). I put on my second (or was it third?) application of "butt butter", and got back on my bike through the confusing-as-hell ride through Ojai.

As I rode through Ojai, I was appalled at the number of riders that failed to stop at stop signs. Pretty much every rider ran right through the stop signs! Even worse, they would ride right through despite other cars having the right-of-way. I think I was the only rider that actually obeyed the rules of the road. I was disgusted! I'm sorry, but if we cyclists want motorists to respect us more, we need to do our part and obey the laws of the road just as motorists do.

As I was leaving the city limits of Ojai, I came across two poor riders who had missed the lunch stop. They asked where it was, and I told them that it was back a few miles. I felt bad for them. And they needed to go back, not only to eat but to check in and get credit for the ride. Plus, they would need the energy until the next rest stop.

I started the last major climb of the ride . . . around Lake Casitas on Highway 150. The climbs were nasty as expected. I was slow and sluggish, but I wasn't going to push too hard because I still had 170 miles to go afterward. Long day (and night) still ahead! A couple of times the wind gusts caused me to swerve a bit. As is usual for me when that happens, I screamed like a little princess! But I eventually got through it all, and was rewarded with a nice descent all the way down to Carpinteria.

Now last year, when I arrived at Carpinteria, it was about 4pm, and I was having doubts about whether I could actually finish the 300. This year was different; it was only 2:45pm. And I was feeling GREAT! I had NO doubts about finishing the 300. So with confidence, another application of "butt butter" and incredible will-power to skip the Krispy Kremes at the rest stop, I continued on towards Gaviota.

The ride through Santa Barbara was really nice. I was enjoying the warm summer day, with the beautiful ride along the beach and all the happy people out and about enjoying the warm Santa Barbara sun. The climbs through Hope Ranch annoyed me a bit (always beware of roads with the name “Cliff” in them), but other than that, the ride to the next rest stop in Goleta was really nice.

I continued on, and hit the US-101 Freeway for the long 17-mile stretch to Gaviota. I rode with one of my fellow riders for a bit, reassuring him that, “Yes, this was the right way; it was going to be a while before the next exit.” And despite having eaten a lot at the last rest stop I still had to down yet another Met-Rx "High Calorie" bar because darn it I was hungry! I eventually reached Gaviota, the far point of the triple century. (Last year, when I arrived I was one of the last riders. This year, there were about 3 other riders who arrived with me, which was nice because it showed that I was keeping pace with my fellow riders this time.)

As I headed back, I hit a wall (not literally . . . I just got tired). It happened as I passed through Refugio State Beach, which was the same place where I hit a wall last year. (What is it about that place?!) I downed some electrolytes. Didn't help (at least, not yet). So I just slowed WAAAAY down, and "actively rested". I putted along the return on Highway 101. I eventually started to regain my strength as I arrived in Goleta.

After the rest stop in Goleta, I continued on my way back through Santa Barbara. The route on the return was easier as we didn't go through Hope Ranch. I rode through the streets of Santa Barbara, soaking in all the happy tourists out enjoying the summer nightlife. I turned off of Cabrillo onto Channel, reminiscing about the AIDS/LifeCycle Paradise Pit! I climbed over the "Summerland Bump", and was surprised at how quickly I finished it (last year when I did it, I was struggling). I hit the flat through Summerland and Carpinteria, and arrived at the Rincon Rest Stop an hour earlier than I did the prior year. Sadly, this time I wanted Krispy Kreme donuts, and they were out.

I continued down 101 through Mussel Shoals, and turned onto Pacific Coast Highway through Seacliff. One rider decided to tail me, because he didn't know the route. So I safely led him (and me) through the tricky Seacliff/Ventura bike path and through old town Ventura onto Harbor Boulevard. As I proceeded down Harbor, I all of a sudden got an incredible amount of strength, and starting jamming at an average speed over 17 miles-per-hour. And that surprised me, considering I was at around 260 miles, and it was about 1am. As I was riding along through Oxnard, I saw a bicyclist riding the other way, with a car tailing her or him. They must have been one of the quad riders. I arrived at the last rest stop of the ride, in Port Hueneme, feeling surprisingly strong. Up next, the last 30 miles.

Last year, the last 30 miles of the ride, through Malibu, were miserable. I was struggling, I was feeling miserable, and I was sleepy. Plus, I was nervous about finishing the ride within the 24-hour time limit. THIS year, I had plenty of time to finish within the time limit, even if I averaged 10 miles-per-hour. And I knew that Malibu had some nasty hills (not that they were really difficult hills, but that they were difficult when you've just ridden 280 miles!). And this year, I was feeling pretty good. So I decided on the following strategy: finish the ride in under 23 hours by conserving my energy for the hills.

I started down Hueneme Road towards Naval Air Road, and then hit Pacific Coast Highway for the last 25 or so miles of the ride. I just took it easy, preparing myself for the Malibu Rollers. I then hit the first big hill at Leo Carrillo State Beach. I took it easy, and before I knew it, I was over the hump. I then started to push harder. A few more ups-and-downs. I kept pushing harder, seeing the 23-hour goal approaching. More rollers. More pushing. More sleepiness setting in. I got more aggressive. I WAS GOING TO FINISH THE RIDE IN UNDER 23, DAMN IT! The Zuma Climb. I was getting closer. Push, push, push! I knew I would finish, but I HAD TO BEAT LAST YEAR'S TIME! Push, push, push! Another climb. Push, push, push! And then another climb. Was this the Pepperdine Climb? I thought so. I hoped so. I reached a false summit, and then another smaller climb after it. And then . . . a sign. Pepperdine University . . . to the right. YES! Just a couple more miles left! And then, Malibu Canyon Road. PLEASE, stoplight, turn green for my left turn! Especially since there is a Malibu Police Car right there. (Wouldn't that suck if I missed my goal because I got a ticket at 3am in Malibu on a bicycle?!) God must have been smiling down on me, because the left turn green arrow lit up just for me, with no help from any other cars! It was destiny. A short ride on Malibu Canyon Road, then the steep descent down to the finish line. What a fitting end to a 300-mile bike ride!

I arrived at the finish line, leaned my bike against a pole, and ran in to the ride official to check in. Final time . . . drum roll . . . 22 hours and 49 minutes. YESSSSSSSSSS!!!!

I then quickly ran to the bathroom because I had to pee like crazy.

I DID IT! Not only did I finish another triple century, I beat last year's time by 40 minutes! But what was really phenomenal was how smartly I rode this year's ride. This year, my strategy was to take it easy and conserve energy. Push when I felt like it, but when I started to feel tired hold back and save energy. Not to get frustrated and push too hard. But to relax. Because it was going to be a LOOOONG DAY. And it seems that strategy paid off. And that . . . was the true victory of the day.

The "Butterflood" Ride

2011-02-20T09:13:00.000-08:00

February 19, 2011, was thus far my most miserable bike ride.

It was a weekend of heavy storms in Southern California. And I had the Camino Real ("Butterfield") Double Century to do. The ride would start in Irvine, head south to Oceanside, inland towards Fallbrook, and then back to Irvine via Rancho Santa Margarita and Tustin.

The ride started at 6:15am. For the first time, I decided to leave in the "regular" group versus the "early starters" group, since I was getting more confident in my abilities. The first couple of hours were pretty good. No rain. And I was riding strong. But then as I got into San Clemente on the Pacific Coast Highway, it started to rain. And I knew it was coming because I could see the route going right underneath the rain cloud.

The rain lasted for about 20 minutes, but didn't completely soak me. A group of other riders caught up with me, and I decided to ride with them since navigating through the residential area of San Clemente, as many riders know, can be tricky. So I stuck with them through the rest of San Clemente. Just before the second rest stop, it started to pour, this time soaking me. Fortunately, though, I could see blue sky off in the distance, and I knew that it was headed our way. So I at least knew relief was on the way. At Rest Stop 2, the blue sky started to wander in, which was good because soon we would be riding over 7 miles on the I-5 freeway.

We headed south some more on the San Onofre Bike Path, and biked through a huge mud puddle on our way to Las Pulgas Road. No rain, so I'm thinking to myself, good, since we're about to go on the freeway. I spoke too soon . . .

I got on the I-5 freeway, and things were going okay for a while. (Just an aside, here, bicyclists, by law, are supposed to exit at the rest stop along the freeway, go through it, and then rejoin the freeway. I saw a few cyclists ignore that, cut in front of exiting cars, and ride in the "prohibited" zone on the freeway. I mean, come on, can't you read the road signs and route sheet?! That pissed me off.) But after rejoining the freeway after the rest stop, it started to rain. Hard. And I'm thinking, "This is scary." Poor visibility, wet roads, semi-trucks driving over 65mph right next to me. This is dangerous. Fortunately, freeways have wide shoulders. But then, some car in front of me decided to park on the freeway shoulder, blocking our path of the freeway. Some poor rider in front of me had to brake suddenly and ended up slipping and falling on her bike. Fortunately, she was okay. But I wanted to beat the crap out of the idiot who stopped on the freeway shoulder. To be safe, me and the two other riders with me decided to "walk" around the asshole who stopped. I glared at him as I walked by.

And of course, the rain stopped just as we exited the freeway in Oceanside.

We took the San Luis Rey bike path inland towards Bonsall. And even though the bike path is supposedly flat, I started "hitting a wall" with my riding. I don't know if it was cross wind, or I was just tired (probably both), so I slowed down and decided to take it easy. After all, I still had about 140 miles to go. So I rode at an easy pace all the way to Bonsall and then to the lunch stop near the Lawrence Welk resort. It was mile 87, and I still feeling pretty good.

After lunch, we ascended Circle R Road up to the famous Lilac Road. I was going strong and feeling pretty good. I hit some technical turns and countersteered through them like a pro! I then hit the descent down Old Higway 395, which I hate because it has so many bumps, cracks and debris. And with the wet roads, I knew debris would just stick to my tire. I rolled right over glass at about 35mph, and I was thinking to myself, "Oh great! Here comes a flat tire." Fortunately, it didn't happen. I stayed strong, even on the awful, awful Reche Road ascents in Fallbrook. I had a nice descent down Green Canyon Road (except for my chain dropping). But then when I hit Mission Road, once again I "hit a wall".

I thought to myself, "I need to take in some more fluid and electrolytes." So I did. And I decided to back off as I rode down North River Road. I was going at what felt like a snail's pace. Then when I got back on the San Luis Rey bike path (heading the other direction this time), I got hit by lots of headwind (which I expected because it's always like that heading west on that bike path). I was rapidly losing strength and energy, and was starting to get whiny, so I just stopped, got off my bike, ate some peanuts (salt and protein), downed some fluid electrolyes, and said to myself, "Next rest stop, I need to eat." I crawled along 2 more miles to the next rest stop, and ate lots of food.

We had two more miles of headwind before we would veer north. So I decided to tail behind another group of riders to catch their draft. And that worked fine until we got into Oceanside. But as we headed north, and I tried to keep up with them, all of a sudden my legs just stopped working. They said, "Ok, Brian! We've had enough. We're shutting down. If you're not going to listen to us, we're going to take over matters!" It was lactic acid. I pushed so hard keeping up with the other riders, I reached my lactic acid threshold, and my legs were just too tired.

For a moment, I thought to myself, "That's it! I can't go anymore. I'm not going to be able to finish this ride." And I really felt that way. But then I came to my senses, and decided to do something better. Instead, I slowed down. A lot. Down to my lower aerobic zone. Instead of just stopping the ride, I decided it was better for me to keep moving at an effortless pace, for a couple of reasons: (1) it would work the lactic acid out of my legs, (2) I would still get my rest and (3) I would still progress on the course. So I did that. And after only about 15 minutes, I started to regain my strength and get back to a more normal pace.

That right there, regardless of how much rain I would endure and how slow I would finish the course, was my biggest victory: overcoming fatigue to keeping doing what I needed to do.

I was on the I-5 again, heading north this time. And once again, a damned car parked right on the shoulder. But this time, it was a police car that had pulled over another vehicle. I carefully passed the police car, toeing the white line and hoping the officer wouldn't decide to open the car door while I was passing. But I think the officer knew I was there and was waiting for me to pass. I went through the rest stop, and as I was reentering the freeway there was a SAG vehicle on the shoulder helping a group of riders out. But it did not look like an official SAG vehicle; it looked more like a private SAG vehicle. And private SAG vehicles were not allowed on this event. Especially since they were blocking the shoulder to the freeway. If that was a private SAG, then I hope they got caught and dequeued for it, because it pissed me off that, once again, a vehicle was blocking the freeway shoulder. (Now, if it was an official SAG vehicle, it would have been a different story.)

For the last few hours up to this point, there had been no rain. Unfortuantely, as I looked to the west, I could see heavy storm clouds heading in. And there were no breaks in them, so it looked like we would be getting a very wet night. I had no idea at the time how right I would end up being . . .

I reached Rest Stop 5, got my "brevet" card stamped, used the much-needed restroom, had some salted potatoes (salt and potassium), and headed on out. At this point, I was feeling stronger, and I wanted to keep moving because I knew what was coming . . .

As I entered San Clemente, it started to sprinkle a little. Then as I descended Ave Pico towards PCH, it started to POUR. And I mean, REALLY POUR. And since I was going about 30 mph, the rain drops stung my face. It almost felt like hail.

Another rider (who was much faster than me), decided to ride behind me and let me lead the way. He asked if it was okay, and told him I had no problem with that. Misery likes company! As I was talking to him, he told me this was his first double century. I congratulated him, and later asked him if he would ever do another one again!

He and I rode together along PCH in San Clemente. At this point it was pouring like crazy. We were both completely soaked. I navigated him through the tricky San Juan Capistrano. The rain stopped for a bit and he thanked me and pulled off to rest. I kept going.

I climbed the long Marguerite Parkway hill in Mission Viejo to Crown Valley Parkway, and then did the 6 mile climb up Antonio Parkway to Rancho Santa Margarita. It was nighttime at this point, I was wet, and it was getting cold. Rain was off and on. I eventually finished the long climb and did the sharp descent down Trabuco Canyon Road to Rest Stop 6. I got off my bike. I was freezing, wet and hungry. Thank God for Cup-O-Noodles (hot sodium)!

The wonderful volunteers at Rest Stop 6 had a propane-fueled camp heater going. All of us cyclists were crowded around it, because we were freezing. But I knew I only had 26 more miles to go, and I wanted to be done with this ride. So I hopped back on my bike. The same person who followed me earlier asked if he could ride with me again. And I said, "Of course!" So we headed out.

As soon as I started riding, my body started shivering like crazy and my teeth started chattering. All this despite the fact that I had three layers on already. But thank goodness there were some steep climbs coming up, because I knew that my body would warm up while pushing up the hills. (When you're cold, you welcome tough climbs!) I pushed really hard up the approximately 18% grades on Live Oak Canyon Road, followed by a freezing descent down to Santiago Canyon Road.

We then headed north on Santiago Canyon Road. And after about 2 miles, the rain started coming down again. Hard! Freezing, drenched, dark and poor visibility from the heavy rain, I kept pushing forward towards civilization (since we were in the rural parts of Orange County now). But I had to endure 10 miles before I would reach North Tustin.

I got into North Tustin, turned onto Jamboree Road, and the heavy downpour got even worse. It became very hard to see. And I was shivering and my teeth were chattering. I was truly miserable at this point, and felt the start of hypothermia. I felt like pulling over and hiding under a tree. But then I would just get even colder, and I would still remain wet. Besides, I only had about 9 miles left on the course. So I just kept pushing, hoping I would survive. Maybe I would be lucky and the rain would let up at some point. Or maybe it wouldn't.

Well, the rain did eventually cease for a moment once I turned onto Portola Parkway. 6 miles left and I just kept pushing as hard as I could go (mostly because I wanted to stay warm). My violent shivering and teeth chattering stopped, and were replaced by me bitching about every red light I hit on Sand Canyon Avenue. But this was it; the final stretch! Much to my pleasure, the Sand Canyon Avenue stretch was a lot shorter than I thought it would be, because in no time I saw the I-5 freeway, and right after it the finish line. Even better, there were cars in the left turn lane at the light so I would not have to wait endlessly at the light waiting for a green arrow. Soaked and freezing, I pulled into the hotel conference area and gave the ride official my rider number.

My time was a disappointing (at least to me): 15 hours and 13 minutes. My goal was to finish the course in under 14 hours. But, I took heart in the fact that my time was 28 minutes better than when I did the course last year. And conditions were far worse this year.

My clothes were completely soaked. I climbed into my truck, shivering again, and changed back into dry clothes, socks and shoes. I mean, my clothes were so wet it was as if they had just come out of the wash without a spin cycle! I then used the hotel lobby bathroom; got back in the truck; downed two protein shakes; stopped by Jack in the Box for a good old fashioned double-hamburger, fries and soda (hey, I earned it); turned on Lady GaGa's Born This Way, and drove back to San Diego.

As I reflected on this ride, I realized something. I wasn't hydrating nor eating enough. And the reason was the rain. With the rain, I didn't want to stop and try to pull out food. I was more focused on just getting the ride over with and getting out of the misery of being wet. And if I had stopped I would have gotten cold. And with all my layers on it was difficult to reach into pockets to pull out food (even though I had plenty of food with me). But even when getting soaked by rain, I still need to remember to keep eating and hydrating. I cannot let uncomfortable conditions detract from me fueling my body. I think that was the one mistake I made. I need to remember next time, when it rains, snows, hails . . . whatever, to still keep hydrating and eating. Because I'm not going to stay hydrated through osmosis!

I reaffirmed something else. When my legs get too tired, I don't need to stop. In fact, if I am on a flat road, downhill or mild grade, I should just slow down and ride at an easy effort. That will work the lactic acid out of my legs, and keep me moving along the course while getting the rest I need. And I'll regain my strength.

So despite my slower-than-desired time, I am happy with the fact that I conquered the challenges of Mother Nature and lactic acid!

2010 Wrap-Up

2010-12-18T18:45:00.000-08:00

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year

from Ronny and Brian

Here's a wrap-up of 2010.

In Palm Springs, we finished our new pool. It's a lap pool, with a water feature and a tanning deck. It is just beautiful, and we just love it!

This was my most amazing year, so far, for cycling. I won the California Triple Crown for the second year in a row. I won the Planet Ultra Grand Slam for the first time. This year, I completed the following 9 double centuries:

Camino Real
Death Valley Spring
Solvang Spring
Borrego Double Ordeal
Heartbreak Double
Eastern Sierra
Bass Lake Powerhouse
Solvang Autumn
Death Valley Fall

And my best achievement was my triple century, where I rode 300 miles in 24 hours:

Grand Tour (Highland Triple Century)

I also spent the year training riders for AIDS/LifeCycle 9. And I am registered to ride in AIDS/LifeCycle 10 next year.

In May, Ronny got a big surprise (actually, it wasn't a surprise for me, as I was "in" on the whole thing). But, unbeknownst to Ronny, his sisters Nay and Lisa, his mother Sarah, and his niece Rae'ven secretly flew out to California to visit us. On the evening of May 20, I told Ronny I had to "go to work". But in actuality, I went to the airport to pick them up. I drove them back to our house, we snuck into the house while Ronny was asleep, we went into his room, turned on the lights and said, "Surprise!" Ronny woke up . . . and SCREAMED! He was so surprised to see his sisters, niece and mom. And while his mom had visited him several times, his sisters and niece had never been out to California. It was such as wonderful surprise for him! We had an absolute blast! We went to Palm Springs, we toured around San Diego . . . it was the moment of a lifetime. It was so nice to see them!

In August, Ronny and I took a 9-night cruise in the Mediterranean. We visited Greece, Israel, Sicily, Naples, Rome, the French Riviera and Spain. We saw such places as the birthplace of Jesus, the Acropolis, Pompeii, Mt. Vesuvius, the Roman Colosseum, the Vatican . . . and many, many other places. These were places we never, ever thought we would see in our lives. And we saw them all in two weeks. It was one of the most memorable vacations we've ever taken.

And Nitro has been doing really well. He's enjoyed long walks with his daddies, his countless trips to Palm Springs, and has been such a faithful, well-behaved and loving dog. He is one amazing soul.

We hope you all have a wonderful Christmas, Chanukah, Kwanzaa, and Happy New Year!

To donate to my ride, please go to http://www.tofighthiv.org/goto/the-hammer.

Mediterranean Cruise

2010-09-05T23:00:00.000-07:00

August 21, 2010

After a mildly frantic night of making sure everything was packed, and a last-minute self-waxing of Ronny's legs, we both hit the hay early . . . intending to get a decent night's sleep before our 3:50am alarm. Our plans failed when we both woke up two hours before that . . . too excited about our upcoming trip.

So we took the time to get a head start on dressing, making sure we had our passports, and saying a long goodbye to Nitro. Our shuttle arrived on time (as is typical for Super Shuttle), and we were driven to the airport. It's three hours before our schedled departure, and I'm thinking, we're going to have two hours of boredom at the San Diego airport, especially since we already checked in online and just needed to "drop off our bags."

But I was wrong.

Apparently, everyone else decided to do online checkin as well. So the "speedy simple" bag-drop-off line was a quarter of a mile long. Heck, it was longer than the frickin' security line, which itself was out the door. After about 40 minutes in the "save time by checking-in-online" line, we finally get to the agent. The agent spends about 7 minutes looking over both of our passports, entering tons of information and looking up tons of information (conceivably about us) in the computer. What's the deal? Are you going to let us travel or not? You're making me nervous! Finally she accepts both of our bags (even ignoring the fact that one bag was 1 pound over the limit) and lets us go. Theoretically, our bags will arrive in Athens. Hopefully.

We then get in the out-the-door security line. The sad thing is, as we moved through the line, the baggage line disappeared, and the security line shrunk. I told Ronny, "Well, we timed it just right . . . we arrived right at the morning rush. Hell, we could have arrived an hour later and still be where we are now."

Except for Ronny's bag strap getting caught on his other bag and a few items spilling on the floor, we got through security with no "beeps." In fact, the TSA employees were quite nice to us. And I truly admire them for that, because their jobs are (a) so vital to our nation's security and (b) can't be easy dealing with all us idiot tourists.

As it was, our timing ended up being perfect as we had enough time for an overpriced, nutritionally-defunct meal at McDonalds and an overpriced conribution to the Starbucks Empire. We chatted with a nice couple heading to the east coast, and leisurely made our way to our gate. Before we knew it, we boarded our plane.

The flight to Atlanta was fine, except that I ended up in the middle seat, sitting next to this very large man for 3 1/2 hours. I sat the whole flight with my arms held inwards. It was not fun.

But we arrived in Atlanta on time, which was good because we had to go all the way to the opposite side of the airport. We got to our gate, and within 15 minutes we boarded our plane for Athens. Talk about not wasting time!

The flight to Greece was nice . . . but long! 10 1/2 hours. And, of course, I didn't sleep a wink. But except for some wild turbulence over the Atlantic, and a shaky landing due to strong winds in Athens, we landed safely, and early.

We cleared customs with no problem, and thankfully, our bags were at the carousel. We then went to the lobby.

I had made a reservation with Geroge's Best Taxi Service, and we were told that a driver would be waiting for us with our names on a sign. Sure enough, a nice gentleman was holding a sign with my last name. So we went up to him. This was my moment to try to speak some Greek. Here it went . . . I said "Kalimera," which means good morning. He said the same back to me. He took our bags and I said, "Efharisto" (thank you). He said, "Parakaloh" ("You're Welcome"). He then said, "You speak Greek!" I said, "Ohi, then milo kala Elenica." ("I don't speak Greek well.") But he complimented my Greek, and seemed pretty impressed anyways. My months of time on http://www.livemocha.com/ paid off!

The cab ride to our hotel was very nice. Our driver was very friendly and informative. Sure, the ride was pricey (60 Euros) but it was worth it for a plasant ride with a nice driver who forgave us for not speaking much Greek.

We got to our hotel which was the "host hotel" for our cruise. And it turned out to be quite a four-star place. Beautiful rooms, on-site amenities, it was really nice . . . and expensive. But the best part is you could see the Acropolis from our room.

Ronny and I were both very tired, so we checked in early, and went to lunch at the hotel.

For lunch, I tried my first moussaka. And boy, was it good! This could easly become my next comfort food.

After dinner, Ronny and I were super-tired, so we headed off to bed for the afternoon, which tunred into night, and we didn't get up until early morning.

August 23, 2010

Once we were up, we decided to go explore Athens. We went to the nearest tram, and thanks to the help of a local, we figured out how to purchase tickets and validate them. We took the tram a little ways, and checked out the prices for the Temple of Zeus. Afterwards, we went to the ATM (thank God it worked!) and had some early breakfast. While sitting in this quiet, outdoor cafe, watching the people (men) and feeling the Aegean breeze, it both really hit us . . . we were in Greece! We never dreamed we would be here.

We then headed to the Temple of Zeus and took lots of pictures there. We then headed to the Acropolis and Theater of Dionysus. This was quite a climb, and it was hot that day. But we made it to the top. The Acropolis was amazing! It was at the top of this hill that overlooked all of Athens. We got some good pictures from up there.

One interesting thing we noticed was all the "independent" dogs that were at the Acropolis. (They're not "strays", because they don't "belong" to any human owners.) They just wander about Athens, and the monuments, on their own. What we found out was that these dogs are fed and cared-for by city officials. Because of that, and because they were fixed, the dogs were perfectly tame and docile. But they were free to wander the city as they pleased. Not only that, but they even knew how to get about the city safely. We saw this one dog running alongside a moto-scooter, and when the dog got to an intersection, it would even look both ways!! Smart dogs in that city!

After the Acropolis, Ronny and I were both tired (we were still jet-lagged) so we headed back to the hotel. We napped that afternoon, and then grabbed some dinner at the hotel. I had my first ouzo. Oh my word! 40% alcohol by volume! It was good, but it was like drinking Nyquil. Needless to say, it put me right back to sleep.

August 24, 2010

I woke up at 4am. My body still hadn't adjusted to the time change. So I just laid in bed and watched Greek TV. I could understand a few words here and there. When Ronny woke up, we went to Syntagma Square (which is Greek for "Constitution") which is where the Greek government is located. We had breakfast at a local cafe, did a little sightseeing, then went back and checked out of the hotel. We then had to wait two LONG hours before the shuttle to the pier would arrive.

It finally came, and we got on and rode to Piraeus pier. The process of getting on to the boat was less than pleasant. We had to wait in the terminal until our number was called. Then, we went through Greek customs, through security . . . sigh . . . then checked in for our cruise, then filled out an Israeli visa, then cleared Israeli customs (since that was our first port-of-call), then . . . finally . . . we got on the ship. Honestly, it wouldn't have been so bad if it wasn't so darned humid, and I wasn't so tired, and the Israeli immigration officer wasn't scrutinizing me so heavily!

Our ship was very nice. It wasn't as nice as our last two cruises, but it was still very beautiful and very big. Our stateroom was awesome! Very comfortable and cozy, with a private balcony.

We had a quick snack at the cafe on board, and the did our mandatory lifeboat drill, which took forever. We then went and had a proper dinner at the "sit down" restaurant (a. k. a. dining room).

We met a couple from the U. K. and a couple from N. Y., and had a nice dinner and conversation with them. We then retired to our stateroom for the night.

August 25, 2010

Today was a day at sea. So we basically relaxed and did stuff on the ship.

Ronny and I were very lucky. We actually got a lounge chair next to the pool, and got to go swimming in the pool. That's a rarity on a gay cruise, since all the men like to lay by the pool and show off their hunky bodies! I also went for a jog on the upper deck. It was really awesome, jogging out in the middle of the Mediterranean Sea.

We had some lunch, relaxed in the room a bit, joined some poeple for dinner, and then went to the late night dance.

The late night dance was called Fanta Sea. The theme was to dress in something nautical. Ronny and I dressed as sailors. We had an absolute blast.

The music was awesome, the men looked great . . . dancing in the middle of the Med was a trip.

August 26, 2010

We were up late dancing, but we had to get up at 6am to catch our all-day tour in Israel. We hurried through breakfast, grabbed our passports and visas, and hopped on our tour bus outside. Our tour took us to Jerusalem and Bethlehem. We visited the Mount of Olives, the Graden of Gethsemane, the Wailing Wall, the Muslim Quarter, the Christian Quarter, the Church of the Nativity (in Bethlehem), Via Dolorosa (the path Jesus walked before his crucifixion) and the Church of the Holy Seplucher (the death and burial place of Jesus). We hit all of the major Jewish and Christian holy sites.

This was truly a once-in-a-lifetime tour. All the places we've read about in the Bible, all the places you hear about in Sunday School, well, we got to see them first-hand. It was beyond amazing!

But the other amazing thing was to actually visit both Israel and Palestine. You hear on the news about all the fighting and terror attacks in these countries. And so frankly I was afraid to go. And while all of that still exists, Israel and Palestine still love their tourists. And a lot of people live in those countries and frankly jus want to live their lives and worship as they please. Everyone in both countries were very hospitable to us. (It was funny, a few street vendors saw Ronny and said, "Obama!" and, "I give you Obama price!")

It was truly an enlightening tour. I am so glad we visited Israel and Palestine. But it was also quite a busy day. Many of our fellow tourists went to visit Tel Aviv later that evening (since it apparently has a fantastic gay scene), but Ronny and I opted for sleep.

August 27, 2010

Our ship left Israel at 4am. We had another full day at sea. So Ronny and I actually got to workout in the gym (again, another amazing thing since gyms are very crowded on gay cruises). I went for another jog on deck as well.

Late in the afternoon, we went to the Disco T-Dance. Oh my goodness, it was a blast! Ronny dressed in his metallic pimp/jigolo outfit; I dressed in a patchwork shirt complete with Brady Bunch Jheri Curl. Ronny got so many compliments and requests for photos! The music was a blast! We had an amazing time.

Afterward, we went to a "meet your nieghbor" cocktail party. We met some nice couples from Australia, Florida, D. C. and San Francisco. We then went for dinner.

Then, later that night, we had yet another party . . . the Gods and Warriors party. People dressed as Gods, Greeks, Romans, Spartans . . . you get the idea. Ronny dressed as a wizard; I dressed as a Spartan. The party was okay, but it was so windy on deck that we both kept having Marilyn Monroe moments. Ronny's pointed hat kept blowing off. Plus, my dammed Gladiator sandals were killing me! So frankly I was glad when we finally left that party.

August 28, 2010

It was another day at sea. And thank God, because we partied too hard the day before. We didn't do much of anything this day.

In the afternoon, we went to see a sneak preview of this new independent film, The Adonis Factor. It was about the quest of gay men to look handsome and have gorgeous bodies. The film was very well done, and made some valid points. We stayed afterwards for an in-person Q & A with the film's creator.

August 29, 2010

Today was our second port-of-call, Sicily. We had an all-day tour here, which would take us to Mt. Etna and the town of Taormina.

Our bus ride up Mt. Etna took 2 hours. I was truly amazed at how our bus driver would navigate these winding, narrow European roads. We stopped and toured the Silvestri Crater. The ground was pitch black with lava rock and lava sand. It was so cool! We got some aerial pictures of the west island. We then had a complimentary cannolo and "volcanic" red wine.

We then drove to the town of Taormina. This is a town perced on the cliffs of eastern Sicily.

We had a light snack, and did some shopping. We then headed back to the ship. Taormina was a popular place. I would say most of our ship was visiting there. It was an invasion of the gays on this little Sicilian tourist town!

August 30, 2010

Today we were visiting Naples. We got up at 6am to get ready for our tour. And then, we had a message on our phone "reminding" us that our tour was cancelled. "Um . . . excuse me but . . . you never told me of this in the first place!!! What the f***! Thanks for the last minute notice!" I had to rush down to the Shore Exursions desk and try to book another tour, because we really wanted to visit Pompeii. Fortunately, they had one. Unfortunately, it started in 15 minutes. Ronny and I had to nibble a very small breakfast and rush to meet our tour. It was a crappy start to the day.

Fortunately, things worked out very well, because our tour was amazing! We first took a boat tour along the Amalfi Coast, which was truly beautiful and amazing. All the highways, rails, buildings and towns were built along the sides of sheer mountainsides. It must have taken an amazing feat of engineering to build all of that. And the architecture was just beautiful!

We spent some time in the town of Amalfi.

The town was very cute and beautiful. the only thing that disappointed me was the pizza that never came. This was the part of the world where pizza was invented. And we ordered some at a local cafe. They said it would take ten minutes. Well, the ten minutes turned into twenty, and we had to get back to our tour. So . . . no authentic pizza for us. Oh well . . .at least the cafe comp'ed our cappucinos.

After Amalfi, we went to Pompeii, and were treated to a nice Italian lunch, with complimentary wine and an "O Sole Mio"-style serenade. It was so much fun! I drank a lot of wine, too. That made it even more fun!

We then toured just a small portion of the ruins of Pompeii. I say just a small portion because the Pompeii ruins are enormous. I mean, the whole original city was unearthed and is available for touring, which would take days! It was pretty amazing, to be able to see and touch the (remains of the) buildings, streets, temples and theaters of this 2,000+ year-old city.

We even went inside a Pompeii brothel. There were these little rooms, where people did the "nasty". There were actual ancient paintings on the walls depicting people . . . you know . . . having SEX. I swear! And I am not kidding about this one. Our tour gide showed us a stone sculpture in the street that pointed the way to the brothel. And this "arrow" was in the shape (I am not making this up) of a penis!

And that, my friends, was Pompeii.

August 31, 2010

My goodness, another tour today! Today was Rome and The Vatican.

This very nice, fun, tour guide led us on our way from Civitavecchia to Rome. In Rome, we were met by another tour guide (who we later found out was gay) who took us to the Trevi Fountain, the Roman Forum and the Roman Colosseum. All amazing places, all places we had read about in books but never imagined we would ever visit!

After lunch at an Italian hotel, we went and visited the Vatican. Inside, we visited St. Peter's Bascillica. Oh my God! It was amazing! The artwork, the gold, the sculptures, the marble . . . it was truly spectacular. And what really amazed me was they still allowed us to take pictures! It was just incredible. We never thought we would ever visit the Vatican.

After the Vatican, we headed back to the ship. Another amazing (and busy) day!

September 1, 2010

Geez louise! Another tour?!

Today, it was Marseilles, France. Except for us, we were actually going to Avignon, France, to visit the Palace of the Popes.

We had a very nice tour guide, Pasquale, who guided us through the south of France on our way to Avignon. France was very beautiful! I don't know . . . there was just something magical about it. Very peaceful. Very warm. The drive was fantastic. After about an hour, we arrived in Avignon.

We had a nice lunch outside the Palace of the Popes. We then went inside the palace and had a nice tour. We got to the top, and took some aerial photos of Avignon and France. We then had a nice wine tasting of some wine from the French Riviera.

Afterwards, we went and did some shopping. I went into a gift shop to buy some stamps. And I was nervous, because I spoke almost no French, and I didn't want to offend the shop clerk by only speaking English. So I did my best, and said, "Bonjour! Comment allez vous?" She said, "Bien, merci! Et vous?" I then messed up and answered in Italian, "Bene, gratzie! Oops! Sorry!" At that point, she smiled and showed mercy on me and said, "That's okay." From that point, she spoke English to me. But hey, at least I tried. She was very nice.

After a wonderful afternoon, we all got back on the bus and headed back to the ship. We just barely got back to the ship before it left port. We had a wonderful time in France. We want to go back.

September 2, 2010

We arrived in Barcelona in the morning. Our cruise was over today. But, we still had one more tour. The tour took us to the Sagrada Familia Church, the Gothic Quarter, and the Olympic Stadium. It was just a small, morning tour. Then we were taken to our hotel, the Melia, where Ronny and I rested for a little bit.

The Melia was this really chic hotel. Very modern. And we got a really good deal on it. Ronny and I were both really tired, so we relaxed in the hotel for a bit. I watched some Spanish "Wheel of Fortune." Then we headed over to this loocal tapas bar.

In the tapas bar, we were served by this really nice waiter. And boy was he gay! In fact, I think he fancied Ronny! But he did he did point out some good places for us to visit.

After tapas, we went to the Gothic Quarter again. We also visited a few other places in Barcelona, just sightseeing and taking photos.

On the way back to the hotel, we hopped on the metro. As we were boarding the train, all these people just pushed up against me as we were trying to board. And I knew something was wrong. I immediately checked my front pocket . . . and my wallet was gone. I had just been pick-pocketed!

Some people next to me started pointing and yelling, trying to tell me who the pick-pocketer was. Ronny and I jumped off of the train, and we both started running. The problem was, I wasn't sure who had taken my wallet. And after we ran for a while, I frankly didn't know who to chase after. And I asked Ronny who we were running after, and he didn't know. At that point, I figured my wallet was a goner.

Then Ronny says, "Here. Here's your wallet." Sure enough, he had it. I checked inside, and everything was in there: all my money, credit cards, driver's license . . . everything. I said, "How did you get it?" Ronny said, "It was just laying on the ground." Apparently, whoever took my wallet dropped it right after getting off the train. I'm guess he, or she, dropped it when I realized I had been pick-pocketed, and those people started yelling.

I really do have a wonderful guardian angel. (His name is Ronny.)

And what really bothers me is, I was very careful the whole time we were in Europe of pick-pocketers. And that's why I kept my wallet in my front pocket and was constantly checking it. And someone still got it. I just thank my lucky stars they didn't get away with it.

The rest of the day was kind-of shot at that point. I was pretty shaken up. So we just went back to the hotel.

September 3, 2010

We didn't do a whole lot today. We just did some more sightseeing in Barcelona. We also visited one of the "gay areas" of Barcelona. We ate at this little cafe. This one guy on the street stopped by and talked to us while we were eating. He was very friendly. That was one thing we noticed about Barcelona. Except for the pick-pocketers on public transportation, the people in that city were very friendly.

We also did some shopping. We shopped at a flea market in the Gothic Quarter, and shopped at a few other places.

This was our last full day in Europe.

September 4, 2010

It was time to head home. We, and our luggage, got into a cab to the airport. We then went to the ticket counter. The agent weighed our bags, and informed us that one of our bags was overweight. The cost would be 150 euros (which would be almost $250). I was not about to pay that much money, so we pulled to the side and tried to reshuffle our stuff. We went back a second time, and our bag was still too heavy. So we tried a third time, and now that one bag was under the limit, but another one was over. Sheesh! Fortunately, the ticket agent showed mercy on us and didn't charge for the overweight bag. But, she did charge us for the excess checked bag (which I expected), which was 50 euros.

What I didn't like was the 9 million questions she had about our bags. I mean, my goodness, security was tighter here than in the United States. All we wanted to do was go home. Anyways, after answering these millions of questions, she selected Ronny for additional security screening at the gate. Shit. All we wanted to do was get on the stupid plane and get back home.

We crossed the E. U. check point, and went to a Spanish McDonalds for some breakfast. We dined with some of our friends from the cruise, who were also on our flight. Afterwards, we headed to the gate, and bought a few items from the duty-free shops in a last-ditch attempt at disposing of our euros.

A few minutes before they started boarding, they called Ronny, and a few other passengers, over to a special area for additional screening. And it took . . . forever!! I mean, it took almost 40 minutes for them to screen these passengers. And, of course, Ronny was the last person to be screened. By now, our plane was completely boarded, except for us. I was getting nervous that the plane would leave without us. But we did, finally, get on the plane. I was so pissed off at this point.

And then, once we were all on the plane and the door was locked, they told us that there would be an hour delay before taking off. Fuck!

The delay ended up being 45 minutes. And then, finally, finally, finally, our plane took off.

At this point, I was worried that we would miss our connection in Atlanta. We only had a 2 hour layover there, and we still had to clear U. S. Customs.

The pilot did make up some time in the air, but we were still late arriving in Atlanta. Fortunately, much to my surprise, U. S. Customs was a breeze. In fact, there was no line! And the customs officer did not give us any trouble. He didn't even care that we were bring back four bottles of liquor! So we actually had little trouble back in the U. S.

And we made it to our connecting flight just in time. The only problem was, we had no time to eat dinner. So we boarded our plane, starving.

We were forced to buy an overpriced dinner on the airplane, because we were both starving. Fortunately, it was a pretty decent meal. And frankly, the price ($8 per sandwich) was about the same price you would pay at an airport cafe anyways. So . . . eh . . .

We arrived in San Diego, after travelling for almost 16 hours. We were both really tired. But we were glad to be back home. We came home to a jubilant Nitro. We were so glad to see him again!

We spent the next couple of days just relaxing at home, reveling in the fact that this was one of the best trips we had ever taken!

Triple Century 2010

2010-06-27T21:50:00.000-07:00

On June 26th, I was going to attempt the craziest ride I had ever done. A triple century. 300 miles. In one day.

What was I thinking?

To make it worse, I had two options for a Triple Century: Lowland or Highland. As you might guess, the Lowland route had a lot less climbing. And stupid, overconfident me, I chose the Highland route. ("Oh, because it goes more places!")

Really, what the hell was I thinking?

The ride I was doing was the Grand Tour in Malibu, on June 26th. The ride was to start at 4:30am, and I would be given 24 hours to complete the ride. When I started off that morning, there was a long line at the beginning. I ended up not starting until 4:51am. But I hit the road as quickly as I could. I only had 24 hours, and since I was doing 300 miles, I need every one of those hours.

What was I thinking?

I headed out into the Malibu darkness, cruising along PCH. I was doing just fine, but then again, the road was pretty flat. As the sun came up and I started getting near Point Mugu, headwind started to pick up. Fortunately, there was cloud cover, so the weather was nice and cool still. I got off of PCH and headed inland toward Port Hueneme. I passed one of the Driscoll's Berry Farms (it was pretty cool to bike right by where my berries come from!) and eventually arrived at Rest Stop 1. I figured, since this was going to be a long day, I should have some coffee. Mistake. I tried to chug it quickly, but it was so piping hot I burned my tongue. Lesson: don't try to drink hot coffee on a bike ride. There isn't time.

The route then headed back west, toward Potrero Road. I figured, well, this won't be too hard. It's just about 1,000 feet of climbing, easy . . . . This ended up being the steepest f***ing climb I've ever done! I swear, the slope was like 25% grade. I had to shift into my "granniest" gear, stand out of my seat, and pedal so hard I wobbled and almost tipped over! And some guy, some other rider, just flew by me up that hill.

I made it to the top, and had a little bit of a reprieve as I pedaled through Casa Conejo. Then, another steep climb to Rest Stop 2 (but not as bad as Potrero). I didn't stay long. I just did my thing and got back on my bike. I headed out towards Lake Sherwood, and then up towards Thousand Oaks. I was still feeling pretty good.

I arrived at Rest Stop 3 in Moorpark, and was still feeling well. But it was getting pretty warm. I grabbed something to eat, and headed on out. It was still about 30 miles until lunch in Ojai, and I didn't realize the hell that was in front of me. I had this nasty climb up Grimes Canyon Road. It wore me out, and I had to stop a few times to rest. Fortunately, I was met by an impressive descent into the Fillmore valley. We turned left and headed along South Mountain Road towards Santa Paula. And the whole damn way, for 10 miles, it was strong headwind. It took forever to get to Santa Paula, but I eventually arrived.

Then, we had another large mountain climb up State Route 150. It was a pretty route, but damn it was a long climb. And it was a narrow, busy highway. I started to regret having chosen the Highland Route for my first Triple.

What was I thinking?

I eventually had a nice technical descent into Ojai. But my butt was hurting, and I was crabby. I renamed the town from "O-Jai" to "O-Finally!". I arrived at lunch, all too glad to be there and have me a nice turkey sandwich.

At lunch, I ate with a couple or riders I had met on some previous double centuries. They were only doing the double century, and they were all relaxed, talking about how it was half-way over. I looked at them with envy. And I didn't have the guts to tell them I was attempting the Triple, because I didn't want them to think I was crazy. And frankly, with the way I was feeling, I wasn't even sure I would be able to complete it. I mean, it was almost 1pm, and I was only at mile 100. I was feeling like crap. I was seriously thinking of bailing on the triple and just making it a double and calling it a day. I could still get Triple Crown credit.

After all, what was I thinking?

I pressed on after lunch, leading out towards Lake Casitas. Once again, a large mountain climb after passing the lake. At this point, I was really pissed with myself for having chosen the Highland Triple. Why am I so overconfident?! I struggled to the top of that mountain, and finally made it. I then had a pretty nice descent into Carpinteria. But then, I was so tired and hurting at that point that I really didn't care.

In Carpinteria, at mile 140, I was at a crossroads. This was where the Triple Century riders veered off from the Double Century riders. The Double Century riders headed back towards Malibu. The Triple Century riders headed east towards Gaviota. So I had a decision to make: do I stick with the Triple Century, knowing I was already tired and hurting . . . or do I make things easier on myself and head west towards Malibu, end the ride early, but still get ride credit?

It was almost 4pm. I looked at the rest stop cutoff times. It was still possible I could make the cutoffs to get credit. But it would be close. The lady at the Rest Stop asked me if I still wanted to try the Triple. I needed to give her an answer.

I was battered. I was bruised. I was tired. The next 50 miles would be headwind. But then . . . I heard this little voice inside me. It said, "You're in this to win this!" I didn't come here to lose. And I decided, I would rather attempt the Triple and fail, than to consciously admit defeat at this point. And, despite being tired and hurting, I still had my wits about me. I still had the presence of mind to know when it was time to quit. And now . . . was not the time. I told the lady, "Yes, I am doing the Triple."

What was I thinking?

I left Rest Stop 5 and headed towards Santa Barbara. The headwind sucked, and I rode at a pace of about 14 miles per hour. Even the smallest of hills hurt. The "Summerland Bump" (Ortega Hill Rd.) made we whiny (even though it was not that bad). And the coastal hills in Santa Barbara made me hate that f***ing city (even though I love Santa Barbara). But what was really freaky was, I was riding all by myself. Whereas there were over a hundred people doing the Double Century and I had riders all around me for most of the day, there were only about 8 of us doing the Triple. And, I figured, all the other "Triplers" were far ahead of me. I must have been dead last. So I was totally alone. It was pretty freaky, and a little depressing. But in any event, I got over the Santa Barbara bumps, and got onto the nice flat stretch (which seemed to go on forever) in Goleta which took me to Rest Stop 6.

Rest Stop 6 was run by a very nice woman and man. It was so nice to meet some friendly faces. I also found out that I was not the last rider. Turns out there were two people behind me (far behind me, apparently). That made me feel a little less like a loser. But anways, I had no time to waste. I had 18 miles to ride, and only about an hour, to make the far point of the ride in Gaviota.

I headed out towards the 101 freeway, and made a couple of wrong turns which cost me several precious minutes (not to mention having to climb a hill unnecessarily). I had to pull out my trusty Droid phone with GPS/Google Maps to get my bearings again. I eventually managed to find my way back to the 101. And I "booked" down that freeway as fast as I possibly could. Fortunately, I must have had a tailwind because I was zipping along at about 23 mph. I was jamming! Finally, I was starting to feel good again. Those 18 miles flew by, and I arrived at the far point of the ride: Gaviota.

The Gaviota rest stop was hosted by this nice couple, all alone in the middle of nowhere, patiently waiting mind-numbing hours for the few crazy riders like us doing the Triple and Quadruple Centuries. I expressed my sincere gratitude to them for doing this for us, and they were so nice to me. I can't tell you how much I appreciate all of the volunteers on these rides. These people have hearts of gold . . . they really do.

The awesome thing was, I was now at almost 200 miles. Just over 100 miles to go. It was 7:45pm. I needed to finish the ride by 4:30am to receive credit. It was now looking like I just might pull this off!!!

I returned on Highway 101. It was pretty cool because this time, I was following the AIDS/LifeCycle Day 6 route. In fact, they even had some of their route arrows still up! But one thing that was scary was I had to cross this narrow bridge on the 101 freeway. On AIDS/LifeCycle, they close one lane of that bridge to allow cyclists to safely pass. But not on this ride. I had to ride in the lane of freeway traffic to get across. I turned on both of my rear taillights, and crossed the bridge, hoping a semi-truck wasn't coming by at the same time. I just finished crossing the bridge, and guess what passed me . . . a semi-truck! That was scary!

My legs started to get tired and started to cramp, and I started to get grumpy. So, I stopped and chugged some Gatorade. Problem fixed.

My return on the 101 was not as fast as my ride out, but I still made it back to Goleta 30 minutes before the scheduled rest stop closure. And waiting at that rest stop was . . . my Camelbak! (I didn't tell you earlier, as I was riding along the 101 I tried to reach for my hose [no, not that hose] and . . . it wasn't there. I had left my Camelbak at the Goleta rest stop. No wonder I felt lighter.) I was feeling much better about my ride at this point, so I had me a nice bit of food and headed back to Carpinteria.

Much of the route followed the ALC Day 6 route. It was neat because it was at night. I rode past many people enjoying the nightlife in Santa Barbara. I made it into Rest Stop 9, back in Carpinteria, about 30 minutes before they were closing. (In fact, they were already rolling-up and getting ready to call it a night.) It was 11:30pm, mile 245. And I was starting to get sleepy.

I made my way west on Highway 101. The smell of sea spray hit me as I rolled through the midnight. The moonlight lit up the ocean in a magical, ethereal way. I biked through the quaint seaside town of Sea Cliff. Biking in the middle of the night, by yourself, along the Santa Barbara coast, with the moonlight at your side and the cool breeze from the ocean . . . was a truly surreal experience.

I then biked down the bike path from Sea Cliff to Ventura, and made my way through Ventura out to Oxnard. Then, once again following the same path that AIDS/LifeCycle follows, I headed in towards Port Hueneume for my final Rest Stop before the finish. It was 2:15am. I had just about 33 miles to go.

I asked the rest stop worker for come coffee (I really needed it because I was starting to fall asleep), but I asked him to put ice in it this time so I could chug it and get going. I chugged my "ice hot" coffee, ate some carbs, and headed on out towards Malibu. It looked like I might just make it before the deadline, but I had no time to lose.

The rest of the route was the same route forged by many an AIDS/LifeCycler before me on their Day 7: East Hueneme Road, then along Point Mugu Naval Base, and then PCH all the way to the finish line. I finally adjoined PCH at about 3am. Just 24 miles to go, but only about 1.5 hours left.

The ride along PCH, along the beach cliffs along the Santa Monica Mountains, at night, was freaky. No one was there, except for maybe a few people parked along the cliffs (smoking pot I presume, or maybe it was just my imagination). But other than that, it was pretty much no traffic, and no people. I was all by myself, with the moonlight and waves crashing against the rocks at my side. And I was getting very sleepy. I did all that I could to keep myself awake. And I had to keep pushing as hard as I could because I was running out of time. And each tiny little hill kept getting harder and harder. Would I make it in time?

What was I thinking?

I kept looking at my odometer, and each mile took forever. I burned through my second headlamp battery, and had to stop to switch to my very last battery. I was running out of time. I had to pee, and ended up doing a roadside tinkle in front of some rich people's Malibu homes (hey, I'm not proud of it, but there was nowhere else to go!). And I was getting sleepier and sleepier. The hills were getting harder. And Malibu just stretched on forever.

What was I thinking?

I hit the big Dume Hill along PCH in Malibu. I was so tired. But I pushed as hard as I could. It must have been sheer will that got me to the top, because I sure didn't have anything else to help me. I descended the other side. Only a couple of miles left. Almost 4:30am.

What was I thinking?

I pushed as hard as I could. I was getting really pissed off right now. My ass was hurting something awful. These last two miles were the longest of the whole ride. Where was my turnoff? Where was my turnoff?

Finally . . . I saw a sign pointing to Pepperdine University. YES! That was my turnoff! And sure enough, there was the intersection with Malibu Canyon Road.

I turned left and finished my final little climb up Malibu Canyon Road. Then, a right on Civic Center and a sharp descent down to the finish line.

I arrived at Webster School (the finish line), clipped out and leaned my bike against a pole, rushed inside to the ride official, took my helmet off and scanned my barcode.

Finish time: 4:20am.

Total ride time: 23 hours, 29 minutes.

The ride official said I just made it. (Hey, I still had 31 minutes!!!!)

I did it. I F***ING DID IT!!!!!!!!!

My wonderful husband Ronny, and my wonderful dog Nitro, were waiting for me right outside. I grabbed some stale, dry chicken (I needed the protein) and a Coke, strapped my bike to the car, got in, and Ronny drove us all back to the motel in Woodland Hills.

As I rode in the car, I looked out the window and watched the sun rise on a night sans sleep. I finally took a deep sigh, and it hit me. I did it! What started as a crazy dream earlier this year, what seemed like an impossibility over a year ago, became a reality. I wasn't sure I could pull off something like this. But I didn't give up. And I pulled through it.

One thing I've learned from cycling is stubbornness. You sometimes have to set crazy goals, and be stubborn about finishing them, in order to achieve those goals. You can't always stick with what you know you can do. You have to reach for something that seems impossible, and be adamant about finishing it, in order to make it possible. When you are at a crossroads, when you are at that Mile 140 like I was, you have a choice: less resistant certainty with less reward, or more resistant uncertainty but greater reward. You have to stick with your plan, ignore those who say, "Are you sure," and continue down the path of most resistance. Only then do you achieve those crazy dreams, and become an even stronger person.

And that . . . was what I was thinking.

Eastern Sierra Double Century 2010

2010-06-06T21:42:00.000-07:00

This would be my "highest" ride thus far.

The ride started in Bishop, California, on June 5, 2010. We left early in the morning, and rolled around through some farmland around Bishop and Round Valley. After Rest Stop 1, we had a super long climb out of Round Valley up to Tom's Place. We then arrived at Rest Stop 2.

After Rest Stop 2, we adjoined U. S. Highway 395 for a few miles. The road was crap. It had all this gravel on it, all over the shoulder. There was no way to avoid it. For 8 f***ing miles, we had to roll over that crap . . . on our skinny ass road tires. I was just praying that I would not get a flat or, even worse, a flat due to tire wall wear (which would be much harder to fix).

We finally got off that infernal highway, and had yet another tough climb to Mammoth Lakes. We then veered off onto Mammoth Scenic Loop. We climbed so high that there were patches of snow on the ground. This was my first time ever biking next to snow!! And biking above the snow level (in summer, no less)!

Even better, we hit a nice downhill on Mammoth Scenic Loop. Unfortunately, the road had all these cracks in it, so it was thud, thud, thud all the way down. But after all that climbing, I was not about to slow down. No sir.

We got back onto 395, and once again, it was gravel, gravel, gravel. Fortunately, the gravel eventually subsided, and the shoulder went back to normal. And we had another tough climb. I had to stop at least once, because I was starting to get a little tired. But I pressed on. And eventually I saw a sign: "Deadman Summit, Elevation 8,047 Feet." Yes! The top! And over 8,000 feet. I have never biked so high in my life. This was awesome.

From there on out, it was mostly descent. We descended past June Lake, Silver Lake (which was actually very blue, and beautiful) and Grant Lake. We then hit 395 again, rode through Lee Vining, and then arrived at lunch. At that point, I was really tired.

I ate my Subway sandwich slowly, and just took a moment to relax, overlooking Mono Lake. I needed it, because there was still another peak to climb. So I finished my lunch, relaxed a bit, and then headed back out.

We returned on 395, but this time headed to State Route 120 and headed east. I was starting to feel better now, so I started jamming down that highway. We then started our last long climb of the day. It was getting hot. I reached the "false summit", and then continued through this field. Then, all of a sudden, I got caught in a vortex. I got hit by a sudden gust of headwind, which then immediately turned into a crosswind, and then immediately pushed me as a tailwind. Weird!

One more climb, and then I reached the highest point of the ride: Sagehen Summit. 8,139 feet. I got my picture taken, relaxed for a little bit, and then started up again, reveling in the fact that the rest of the ride was mostly downhill!

I started jamming down State Route 120, enjoying my well-deserved downhill after all that climbing. But then, we hit these nasty (and I mean, nasty), cracks in the road. Thud, thud, thud . . . for about 20 miles. Oh my goodness, it was awful! I thought for certain that, either my wheels would become untrue, or my tires would pop from all the pressure of hitting those cracks. And actually, one rider did crack a rim. But I survived. Bike abused . . . but not broken.

After the last rest stop in Benton, I hit U. S. Highway 6 South. I wanted to finish the ride in under 16 hours, so I just jammed down that highway as fast as I could. I think I averaged about 23 mph. Anyways, I pushed really hard, helped by a bit of a tailwind, and flew into the city of Bishop. After a few aggravating stoplights, I arrived at the finish line: 15 hours, 32 minutes.

Once I arrived at the finish table, I gave the ride officials my name. And they told me that I had just won the Planet Ultra Grand Slam! The Grand Slam is when you finish at least 4 Planet Ultra double centuries (or multi-day rides) within a calendar year. And thus far this year, I had finished the Camino Real Double, the Solvang Spring Double, the Heartbreak Double and (this one) the Eastern Sierra Double. This ride also represented my sixth double of the year, when you include the Death Valley Spring and Borrego Double Ordeal.

Hearbreak Double Century 2010

2010-05-30T15:06:00.000-07:00

On May 29th, I was going to do my most difficult Double Century ever: The Heartbreak Double Century. 15,300 feet of climbing.

The ride left Palmdale, California, on the morning of May 29th. We headed west towards Elizabeth Lake. I knew today's ride would be a lot of climbing, so I just took it easy and went with the flow. I climbed several hills/mountains as I passed Elizabeth Lake and Lake Hughes, and eventually got out to where the I-5 was. I rode through the small town of Gorman, and then we rose over Tejon Pass and arrived at Rest Stop 2 in Lebec. And then, the real climbing started.

We climbed Frazier Mountain Park Rd., which took me through the villages of Frazier Park, Lake of the Woods, Pinon Pines Estates and Pine Mountain Club. It was a long climb from just under 4,000 ft to just over 6,000 ft. I hit a rest stop at the peak just after Pine Mountain Club. And then, the real fun started.

We had before us this long descent, technical at several places, from Pine Mountain Club down to State Route 166. 6,000 feet down to under 3,000 feet. I flew down that damn mountain! I hit a maximum speed of 45 mph. In fact, some of the tight turns came as a big surprise to me, and I had to hit my brakes pretty suddenly! But I made it down just fine, and kicked some ass doing it. The Freemason's song "Nothing But A Heartache" was going through my head as I descended. It was a blast.

I arrived at the lunch stop in the town of Ventucopa. (I never even knew such places existed!) After lunch, we rolled south along State Route 33 for a while. Some asshole in a truck decided to pass another car, COMING IN OUR DIRECTION. He ended up riding one of our riders right off the road. I pulled off the road as well as this truck almost hit me too. NOTE TO DRIVERS: Don't pass when there are oncoming cyclists. You might just hit us!!!

I then turned onto Lockwood Valley Road, heading towards the famous Heartbreak Hill. We rode through this freerange cattle farm, and this bull walked into the road and stood right in front of me . . . staring at me. I thought, "Oh shit! Is this bull going to charge at me?" I veered to the opposite side of the road, rode slowly by, and did not look at the bull. All the while, the bull turned its head as I passed by . . . watching me. But it let me go by unharmed. That was an experience . . .

I got to Heartbreak Hill. And I could see immediately why it was so named. A very steep grade. But it wasn't too bad. I made it to the top, and to the next rest stop.

After Heartbreak, it was pretty much up and down, up and down for several miles. I was starting to get tired, so I was starting to get grumpy. Fortunately, I did eventually get back to Frazier Mountain Park Road, and it was sweet-ass descent back to Lebec.

The rest of the ride wasn't too bad. Some of the hills started to get to me on the way back to Palmdale, but I managed. I eventually made it back to Palmdale, having finished yet another double century.

Solvang Spring Double 2010

2010-03-27T21:32:00.000-07:00

I just rode my most incredible double century.

Since I started doing doubles in 2009, I've gradually been getting faster at them. Last year, it took me about 16 hours and 40 minutes to complete my first official double. This year, I've been averaging around 15 hours and 30 minutes. So with the Solvang Spring Double, I wanted to see if I could complete it in no more than 15 hours and zero minutes.

I started my ride at 5:17am. I decided this time not to wear my jacket, because I figured it would get warm very soon. Plus, I was always sick of wearing my jacket for an hour, and then having the damn thing tied around my waist for the rest of the day. But I kind-of wish I did, because it was pretty cold riding in the Central Coast region at that time of the morning. But it motivated me to ride even faster! So I plowed through the darkness towards Santa Ynez, and then up towards Foxen Canyon. By then, the sun was starting to rise. It is truly amazing to see the sun rise while riding your bike!

I climbed Foxen Canyon, with determination to make it to the first rest stop which was still about 20 miles away. When I arrived, I did what I needed to do, and got back on my bike as quickly as possible. It was still cold, and my teeth were starting to chatter. Not a good sign.

I pedaled really hard towards Santa Maria in an effort to warm up. I then headed on out towards Nipomo. At this point, I was at about 60 miles, and on a double, that's when I usually get my "grumpies". This time, though . . . no grumpies. I was feeling good, and riding strong (despite the nasty cross wind). I paced off of a few people, and led the pace for a few others. I kept a very strong pace on Orcutt Rd., which is a 8-mile (feels like 80-mile) stretch into San Luis Obispo. But unlike my last Solvang double, this time I was feeling good, even if I was starting to get hungry. But Rest Stop 2 took care of that.

I was at mile 80, and it was 10:30am. It looked like I might finish my first hundred around noon; which is amazing for me.

I left Rest Stop 2 and climbed a few rollers through San Luis Obispo. I then hit Highway 1 out to Morro Bay. With a nice tailwind, I was able to maintain a pace of about 22-23 miles per hour (for me, that's fast). I breezed into the mandatory checkpoint in Morro Bay (right across the bay from the famous "rock"), got my bib marked, and headed south on my return to Buellton. And it was only a little after noon.

I rode through Morro Bay State Park, which was beautiful except the road leaving the park is awful. It was so bumpy that one of my taillights went flying off of my saddle bag. I went back to look for it and could not find it. Oh well . . . I had to keep moving. Besides, I had a backup light. (See, this is why you always have backup lights with you!!!) Heh . . . wouldn't it be nice if I finished before dark! Then I wouldn't need any of my lights. Hah! Fat chance! . . . or was it??!!

After mourning the loss of my precious taillight ($20) I fought through headwinds biking back towards San Luis Obispo. I arrived at the lunch stop at mile 118 around 1:30pm. I was really doing great time.

I then headed south towards Pismo Beach. I was getting a little tired, so I slowed down a bit. But I was still feeling pretty good. I biked through Pismo and Oceana, and then hit Highway 1 on my way out to Guadalupe. I've been down this road before, and every time I ride out to Guadalupe I'm always tired. And it seems to take forever to get out there. Not this time. The whole ride out there went pretty fast. I arrived in Guadalupe around 3:30pm.

I then hit the 166 "express" out towards Santa Maria, which always has a nice tailwind. I then turned down Black Rd. and then over to Highway 1. Now I can't be certain, but I think I ended up in a paceline on Highway 1, because a bunch of riders were right behind me, and didn't bother to pass me. And they must have been drafting since they were awfully close to me. I caught up to another rider, and decided to make him the front of the paceline. So here we all were, drafting off of each other, helping each other climb Highway 1 on our way towards Los Alamos. Eventually, the people behind me decided I was going too slow and passed me. Our paceline was down to 3 riders now. I was in the middle. And I decided to peel on ahead. I had an okay ride into Los Alamos, but I was starting to get hungry. Fortunately, Los Alamos was the "dinner" stop. I was looking forward to some hot soup.

In Los Alamos, I had some Cup-O-Noodles (a staple on double centuries) and chatted with a rider from San Jose, for whom this was his first double. I shared some of my experiences with him, and learned about the rides he had done. I then got back on my bike for the final stretch of the ride, which included the toughest climb of the day: Drum Canyon Road.

Drum Canyon Road really wasn't that bad. I've climbed much worse. The worst part was the crappiness of the road itself. The road was so cracked and bumpy, it was awful. It was even worse going down, since the descent was steep, and you're inclined to go really fast, but you can't for risk of damaging your tires or wheels. Finally, the road pavement got better after the steep descent, and I was able to fly over to Highway 246.

This was it!! The final stretch. Once I turned onto 246, I went all out to make it into the finish line as quickly as possible. The sun had just set, but it was not dark yet, and I wanted to finish the ride before nightfall. So I moved as quickly as I could, and soon arrived in Buellton. The left-turn-green-arrow gods were on my side, and I quickly winded my way through the little town over to the finish line. And the result . . .

. . . my goal was to finish the ride in 15 hours. Instead, my actual time was 14 hours, 3 minutes. WOW!!! My prior double centuries I finished in 15 hours, 40 minutes. So this was a huge improvement. It was not only a personal record for me, but it was also my second California Triple Crown win. I was so happy.

Death Valley Spring Double Century 2010

2010-03-07T17:49:00.000-08:00

On Saturday, March 7, I did my first bike ride in Death Valley . . . a double century.

I had never been to Death Valley. But I had heard stories. I heard it had the lowest elevation in North America. I heard it was one of the driest places on Earth. I also heard it had some of the strangest terrain on the planet. So I was really looking forward to doing this ride.

On Saturday morning, the alarm went off in my Death Valley motel room at 4am. However, I was so excited I was actually awake before then. Everything was ready from the night before, so all I had to do was eat and go. I put on my "butt butter", got dressed and ate an extremely junky breakfast of a gas-station danish, overpriced pop-tarts from the resort general store, a banana and Muscle Milk (total calories approximately 1,000). For some reason time got away from me, and I realized it was already quarter after 5am, I had a 30 minute drive to the starting point, and the ride started at 6am. So I threw everything I needed into the truck and drove a little faster than I should have through the early morning darkness of Death Valley over to Furnace Creek. Fortunately, I arrived just in time to leave in the second wave at 6:10am.

As I started the ride, I looked at the route sheet and noticed that the first checkpoint closure was in one hour and ten minutes, and yet it was 17 miles away. Shit! Beginning of the ride, and already I had to rush. And if you missed a checkpoint, you were disqualified. I pushed hard to make it to the first rest stop, and made it with just 15 minutes to spare. Fortunately, the first 17 miles were small rolling hills with calm winds. I only had time to use the bathroom and then head on out. Thank God I had Pop Tarts for breakfast.

The next checkpoint closed around 10am, and it was 30 miles away. So again, I had to keep moving to make it. Fortunately, once again it was small rolling hills and calm winds. The only real climbing was right before the checkpoint. But I made it with 40 minutes to spare. This time, I had time to grab something to eat, refill my Camelbak, take a couple of photos and find a friendly bush. And then I headed out . . . to take on the hell that awaited me.

This ride had only 9,500 feet of climbing. But most of it was at the middle of the ride, where we had a climb up to 3,350 feet. And the climb was non-stop, with no levelling out. It was awful.

I eventually made it to the top (Salsbury Pass), but time was running out. The checkpoint in Shoshone closed at noon, and it was already after 11 and I had 12 miles to go. It was mostly downhill, but I really had to rush to make sure I got there in time. And there was no margin for error (such as flat tires). I got to Shoshone with 20 minutes to spare. It was mile 74 and I was getting pretty tired already. Fortunately, the next checkpoint closed at 3pm, so I (finally) had some time. Unfortunately, I had to go back the way we came, which meant climbing that mountain again.

I took my time, knowing I was low on energy, to climb the backside of Salsbury Pass. But I had to stop several times, and I started to get grumpy and whiny. After what seemed like an eternity, I finally got to the top. I was then rewarded with a 3,000 ft, (pretty much) non-stop descent. Unfortunately, my butt and lower back were too sore for me to stay in the "tucked-in" position on my bike, so I had to grip higher on the bars and accept some wind resistance.

At the bottom of the mountain, I turned north to arrive at the next checkpoint. And I was struck by strong headwinds. Great, I was looking forward to an easy ride after all that climbing, and now this! After the checkpoint, I had to continue north, right into the headwind, for 27 miles. It really sucked!

As I was riding through the windtunnel, a paceline passed me. The lead rider told me I could join the end if I wanted to. Yeah, right! They were going 5mph faster than me. No way I could keep up with that.

I actually kind-of had my own mini paceline going. A rider came up behind me and decided to draft off of me. And that was fine, since we were all suffering together, and if I could help a fellow rider . . . hey, why not? But when we finally reached the lunch stop, the drafting rider just left me without saying a word. I mean, a, "thank you for letting me ride/draft with you," would have been nice! It's just like when riders pass without calling out. You know, it's okay for us to talk to each other. After all, misery likes company.

The lunch stop (mile 130) had Subway sandwiches. I love Subway! And apparently, Subway is a standard on a lot of doubles.

But what was really great about the Lunch stop was it's location. It was at Badwater, which is the lowest land elevation in North America. In fact, way, way far up on the cliffs behind Badwater was a sign showing where Sea Level was. It was pretty profound, especially considering we had to bike back up to that level!

At this point, the winds had died down, and I was feeling strong (thank you, Subway!). So I took on the next 17 miles strong and revitalized. But then I could feel some raindrops coming down. I don't mind so much riding in the rain, but I do mind it when I just spent $70 to have my drivetrain cleaned! Fortunately, it was just a drizzle, and it didn't last very long. And I soon arrived at the checkpoint at mile 150.

Many riders had finished the ride already, and it was only 6pm! (How can I get to be as fast as them?) I still had 50 more miles to go, and night had fallen. And there were a couple of nasty climbs ahead (but not nearly as bad as the mountains I climbed earlier in the ride). So with my lights on, I headed on out into the darkness. And I mean, this is Death Valley. There are no streetlights. In fact, no lights whatsoever. So my only illumination was my headlamp and whatever cars would come by. Fortunately, I had a good headlamp, and I could see the road ahead just fine.

I started out my last 50 all alone. It was pretty freaky riding alone in the dark in the middle of nowhere. But after I climbed the first hill, I was at a 10-mile level geography. And before me, miles away, I could see little tiny white lights and little tiny red lights. My fellow cyclists! I knew I was not alone; and I felt more comfortable. In fact, it was pretty neat to see their lights off in the distance for the next 10 miles, because it traced the path I was about to take . . . and even let me know when I was about to hit the nasty hill.

We also got some rain. Fortunately, it was only drizzle, so nothing really got too wet. No squeaky chain! And, being this was Death Valley, as soon as the rain stopped everything was dry two minutes later (not that it got that wet in the first place).

After almost 25 miles, I arrived at Stovepipe Wells, which was the far north point of the ride. The rest stop workers were very friendly and welcoming (they always are on these rides, which is why I love them). I relaxed for a bit and had me a Red Bull, some raisins, chips and the standard Faire of double centuries, Cup-o-Noodles. (It's the warmth and the sodium.) After a nice stop there, I only had 1/8th of the ride left, and that was simply to head back the way I came. So feeling strong and confident (and a little sore and cold), I started my final leg.

I had a couple of wardrobe malfunctions on my way back. My sunglasses (which were hanging from the neckline of my jersey) fell off. So I had to stop and retrieve them. Then my jacket (which was tied around my waist because it wasn't cold enough to wear) started to slip down, so I had to fix that. But once I got past all that, I descended down towards the finish. I caught up to a group of four riders and decided to pace off of them into the finish. And then, finally, I could see lights ahead. Furnace Creek. The finish! I descended the last hill with the "gang of four", and arrived safely at the finish with almost 1.5 hours left before the route closure. I did it! Another successful double century.

This ride was harder than I thought it was going to be. Death Valley isn't just a valley. It's also got mountains. Tall mountains. And the wind is very fickle there. One mile, it's tailwind. The next mile, it's headwind. And the air is very dry there, so you really have to hydrate a lot. But the worst part was the narrow checkpoint deadlines. I had very little time to stop at rest stops, and I had no margin for error on this ride. If I had gotten a flat, I probably would not have been able to finish (officially). Fortunately, I got ahead of time, and rode every mile of the ride. And it just shows that I need to keep training and try to get even faster. But I think I did really well.

The "What The F*** Was Brian Thinking?" Ride

2009-10-01T19:54:00.000-07:00

My ride on September 12, 2009, falls into the category of, "What the f*** was I thinking?"

I decided to do a190-mile ride from Palm Springs to San Diego, the first 100 of which would be through the desert. I started out strong for the first 50 miles. It was pretty flat because I was riding southeast through the Coachella Valley and out towards the Salton Sea. Plus, it was early morning and still cool. My first stop was at the AM/PM in Salton City. I had some heatlamp breakfast and took a little rest. The headwinds were starting to pick up. The cashier at the AM/PM was in awe of the ride I was doing (although secretly she probably thought I was crazy).

I left AM/PM and headed South on Hwy 86. The headwinds were very strong for the next 10 miles. I finally got to my turnoff at Hwy 79, and headed west towards Borrego. The winds were a lot more calm, but it was getting really hot. After all, I was in the desert, in the middle of nowhere, with 30 miles to go before my next stop. "I was riding through the desert on a bike with no name..." After about 20 miles, I started getting tired. The heat was starting to get to me. I still had water left, but I was running low. And, of course, all of the stores in the Ocotillo Wells area were closed.

I got to my turnoff towards Borrego Springs, and had just about 10 miles left to go. Fortunately, it was mostly downhill. But I was almost out of water. And I was getting really tired. I struggled into Borrego Springs, and found a nice restaurant (Carlee's Place, I *highly* recommend them) with plenty of air conditioning and plenty of food. I just sat there and ate, drank and relaxed for about an hour. I also talked to some of the locals in the restaurant, who also thought I was crazy for doing a bike ride like this.

It was over 100 degrees outside, and my next challenge was to climb the Montezuma Grade. The Montezuma Grade is 3,500 ft (some say more) of non-stop climbing. Even worse, it has very strong headwinds. The good news is that the weather would get cooler as I started climbing. I started the climb, nice and slow. Then, the headwinds started picking up. At several points during the climb, the winds were so strong that it almost blew me off my bike. In fact, at one point I had to walk about 200 ft because the winds were just too dangerous.

Then at one point, the incline was so steep, and the wind was so strong, that I pushed too hard and my right knee gave out. So now, I could barely use my right leg, and I basically had to finish climbing the remaining 2,000ft with just one leg.

At this point, the rest of the climb was just miserable. I was whining and crying pretty much the rest of the way up. "This hill is just never going to end!" "Is it too much to ask for me to just reach the top?!" I was a total baby the rest of the way up. And, of course, like many mountains, what looks like the top, ain't the top. You get to it, and right behind it is more climbing.

Finally, I reached the top of the mountain, and I was just hating life. My salvation was the Ranchita Country Store which is open on Sundays until 6pm. Bless them! I was able to stop for a snack and a well-deserved break. And the hope that my knee would magically heal itself.

No such luck...

Fortunately, the ride down to Lake Henshaw was pretty much all downhill. But then I had to climb back up to Santa Ysabel, and my knee was starting to feel worse. I have no idea how I actually got up that hill, but I did. And then the ride down to Ramona was mostly downhill.

I was getting nervous about my headlamp, because it only lasts for about 4 hours and it had already been 3 hours. And I didn't have any backup lights/batteries with me. So I decided that, if KMart was open, I would try to buy a simple bike light there. If it wasn't, then I would get a motel room in Ramona. Fortunately, KMart was still open at 7:30pm on a Sunday in Ramona (bless them, too!). AND...they had simple bike lights. So I bought two, and batteries. I then grabbed something to eat and decided I could now finish my ride home.

By now, my right knee was still hurting like crazy. And now my left leg was getting exhausted from having to over-compensate. So the rest of the ride home was just awful. I could not pedal any faster than 12mph on the flats. I had to walk up Texas Street. And I didn't get back home until about 1am!!! I did 196 miles this day, but this was by far my worst performance ever!

Worst Ride

2009-09-06T12:00:00.000-07:00

On September 5, 2009, I had the worst bike ride ever (so far).

I was riding from Palm Springs to San Diego. But this was not my usual route. Instead, I was going to go through Ranchita, down Montezuma Grade, into Borrego, across the desert over to the Salton Sea, and then back towards the Coachella Valley and into Palm Springs. 175 miles, all so I could train for my upcoming double centuries in October and November.

The ride started out well. I arrived in Santa Ysabel just before 10am (a sign that my pace was strong). I then headed down Hwy. 79 to San Felipe Rd., and then started a gradual (but hard) climb to Ranchita. The day was nice, and when I stopped to rest I could hear . . . nothing. Everything was silent. Only the sounds of nature. It was so nice!

I arrived in Ranchita and visited the Ranchita Country Store. There, I sat on the porch and spoke with one of the locals. He was an older gentleman who lived in that area for about 20 (or more) years. He talked to me about some of the homesteaders that lived out there. I talked to him about my bike rides. It was really cool to converse with someone in the local community through which I was riding.

About 1 mile later I arrived at the top of the Montezuma Grade. The Montezuma Grade is a winding road that goes down a mountain side, about 3,500 feet. It was a really sweet descent down the mountain. I got a pretty good picture of me as well.

I arrived in Borrego and stopped for a drink and a pee. I had 30 miles ahead of me that would go through barren desert, followed by an additional 7-10 miles until the "'Subway' and the bottom of the sea". The weather was over 100 degrees, but I was feeling good. So I resumed my journey.

The ensuing 30 miles through the desert was brutal. I had strong, and hot, headwinds pushing against me pretty much the whole way. Plus, it was about a 600 ft climb for 20 miles. Yeah, that doesn't sound like much, but when you're pushing against headwinds in 100-degree weather, it's pretty awful. I reached the peak, and started a pretty nice descent (except for the crappily-maintained road near the sand dunes) and finally arrived in Salton City. An AM/PM arose out of the nothingness around me. I stopped because I was getting pretty tired, a bit overheated, and grumpy. And I really wanted an Icee.

By now, the winds were blowing really strong, but they were pushing in the same direction that I was about to go...northeast. I got onto Hwy 86, which is a divided highway with a very wide shoulder. And it was well paved (unlike the Borrego Salton Seaway), so it was great for cycling. I was still feeling like crap, but I had the wind to help push me along and I only had about 8 miles to go until Subway. So I carried on.

I finally got to the turnoff for the Red Earth Casino (which is where Subway is at). And here is where the ride started to go bad ...

Just a few hundred yards from Subway I heard my rear tire go, "whoosh, whoosh, whoosh, whoosh, whoosh . . .". Yep . . . a flat tire. I stopped to change it, but I was so pissed off, tired and hungry that I was having a hard time. I ended up wasting a CO2 canister, and my tire went on crooked so I had to take it back off and start over again. And then, my tire was still pretty flat. But I just said, "f*** it," and rode over to Subway. I really needed to eat something. And now I was pissed because I was way behind schedule.

After eating a solemn meal, I decided to have one more go at my tire. I told myself to just calm down and relax. Plus, I had food in my system so my mind could operate a lot better. I went to the side of the building and re-did my tire, and this time I got it. Unfortuately, after putting the tire back on the small split I noticed in my tire earlier had become a larger split. But I didn't feel like taking the tire off a fourth time and putting a dollar bill in, so I just left it.

As I was getting ready to leave, I noticed the winds were extremely strong, and it looked like fog, clouds, or a dust storm was coming in. I soon realized that a monsoonal rainstorm was nigh. Sure enough, as I pulled out onto Hwy. 86, it started pouring.

So we're up to two bad things. A stubborn flat tire, and now a monsoonal rainstorm. I had ridden in rain before, and I was not going to give up, so I kept on riding. I turned my lights on, and just rode carefully along the slick highway shoulder. But it was truly pouring rain. I mean, it was like a bucket of water was being dumped on me. I thought to myself, "How is it that I can go from clear skies, strong sun and super hot desert weather to tropical rainstorm . . . all within the hour?" I mean, I've seen this type of weather pattern before, but WHY NOW?!!

And people must have thought I was nuts to be riding my bike on a busy highway in torrential rain. One kind couple in a pickup truck slowed down next to me and asked, "Do you want a lift?" I said, "Thank you, but I'm fine." I was not going to stop riding no matter what! Unfortunately, fate had other plans.

I arrived at my turnoff, and took Harrison Rd. for a long stretch up to the town of Thermal, CA. It was still pouring rain, and now the winds were shifting and blowing East. So I had to not only ride in rain, but ride through harsh cross-winds. Cross-winds (especially the gusts) scare the heck out of me, because they all of a sudden blow me off course and cause me to lean. And they are especially scary if you are on a wet road. I literally screamed several times when the wind tried to knock me down. Fortunately, I never fell.

Off in the East, I saw a rainbow. It was so beautiful, and this rainbow was one of those rare ones that makes a full arc from land to land. I stopped and got a picture of it. The rainbow almost made riding through the rain worth it. And in fact, that's one of the things I love about cycling. It is so much easier to stop and take pictures.

But what happened next was really bad. This is "bad item #3". I went to Twitter from my cell phone, and noticed my cell phone was in some sort of "infinite loop". It was not responding to any of my button pushes. It would not turn off. So the only thing I could do was take the battery out, let it rest for a little bit, and then put the battery back in. I did that, and then my phone was completely dead. I could not turn it on. I could not do anything with it. So now, I had no phone, and no way to call for help if I needed. And I would soon find out that I needed it.

Nightfall started to arrive, and I made my turnoff in La Quinta. My lights were still on from the rain, but fortunately I was out of the storm at that point. After I made my turn off of Airport Rd., my rear tire started to go, "whoosh whoosh whoosh" again. Another flat. And by now, it was dark. I knew what the problem was . . . it was that split in my tire. So I pulled over in the dark and proceeded to replace my flat yet again. This time, I was going to stick a dollar bill in the tire.

Unfortunately, I soon realized that my remaining tubes were the wrong tube for my bike. Now, I hate to admit this since this truly is a rookie mistake, but what happened was when I had gone to the bike shop to buy these tubes, I got the right size but forgot to check the stems. These tubes all had Schraeder stems, and my wheels require Presta stems. So now, I had no spare tubes left, and it was nighttime. I had no other choice but to try to patch my tire.

As I was working on my tire, lit up only by my taillight, a cop stopped by. He asked how I was doing and if I needed a lift. I said I was fine . . . I just needed to change my tire. I finally got my tire patched and booted, and thanked the officer for staying with me and shining his light for me. But when I went to get on my bike and turn on my headlamp . . . nothing.

At this point, I realized that I was defeated. I had come through so many tragedies this day--flat tire, rainstorm, cell phone failure, second flat tire--but this I could not work around. I needed a light to ride a night, and my light was supposed to work for 4 hours. But apparently that was just marketing. (Actually, I think I did use my light for more than 4 hours, if you count the early morning and the time I had it on during the rain.) But, stupid me, I didn't have a backup light. And I could not ride in the dark without a light. It would have been too dangerous. It also would have been illegal (plus, a police officer was right there).

So I asked the police officer if I could have a ride. But he told me he had no way to transport my bike. So then I asked if I could use his phone, since mine had died. And he said his had died too (which I frankly didn't believe). So seeing that he was not going to be much help, I asked where the nearest gas station was. He said 3 miles. 3 miles?! 3 miles I would have to walk just to try to make a phone call. So battered (emotionally), bruised (emotionally) and defeated . . . and now pretty scared, I started my 3 mile walk towards the gas station.

The walk took forever. I was starting to worry if anyone would let me use their phone. I finally arrived at a friendly Walgreens, and one of the employees was kind enough to let me use her cell phone. I made my phone call, and was picked up 30 minutes later and brought the rest of the way to my house in Palm Springs where Ronny and Nitro were waiting for me. Of my 175mi route that day, I only rode 150mi (still not bad).

This is a difficult entry for me to write, because I obviously made some rookie mistakes. I should have had extra lights (or at least extra batteries), and I should have checked the damn stems on the tubes I bought, and not just the sizes. And yet . . . things could have been much worse. I could have been hit by a car. I could have bonked and fallen off my bike. I could have lost control and fallen off a cliff. My nerves may have been frazzled, but at least I got home alive and well.

Not only that, but mistakes like these make us better riders. I certainly learned a lot from this ride. I always try to set a good example when riding, but sometimes I have to set a bad example in order to set a good one. And hopefully, as people read this entry, they can learn from my mistakes as well (don't do what Brian did!).

Future Rider

2009-07-17T19:46:00.000-07:00

I saw the cutest thing while leaving work today. As I was about to pull out of the parking lot, I stopped to let a family on bikes cross. And there was this tiny little kid in that group. He was wearing a big helmet, and was riding this little dirt bike with training wheels . . . struggling to learn how to pedal. And I thought to myself . . . that was me a long time ago.

I remember when I, too, rode my first bike. And it, too, had training wheels. Back then I would just putt, putt, putt around my little neighborhood. ... And now look at where it's gotten me. Who would have thought that by riding a little training bike, with training wheels, I would still be riding as an adult . . . and riding half way down the state of California!

It's amazing to think about the things we do as little kids, just to have fun. And we never even realize that these things turn into stuff we do as adults . . . but on a much grander scale. I mean, who would have thought that little LOGO programming class I took as a little kid would turn into my career in software engineering? Who would have thought that, when my mom and dad brought me into the pool as a little baby, that it would later turn into a gold medal in the 200-meter Butterfly as a young adult? Who would have thought that by playing with wood, nails, a hand saw and a hammer as a kid that I would have created our living room furniture out of Purpleheart wood as an adult? I mean . . . who would have thought . . . ?

And then I think back to that little kid crossing the driveway struggling, trying his best, to learn how to ride his bike. And I think to myself, could he be a future AIDS/LifeCycle rider? Will he stick with it and ride to help others? Will he help reduce pollution and traffic on the road? Will he grow up to be another great rider?

It's truly the lessons you learn as a child that give you your adulthood skills.

Pee Gripe

2009-07-12T21:30:00.001-07:00

I have a gripe from my San Diego-Campo ride. Why is it that no one has public restrooms anymore? In Paradise Valley, the 7-Eleven didn't have a public restroom. In Spring Valley, the AM/PM had a restroom that was "out of order", but the lady behind the counter let me use it. It turns out "out of order" just means she didn't want the public using the restroom and leaving the door open so that everyone could see the toilet showing (maybe that's bad for business?!). And then in Portreto . . . same thing, their restroom was "out of order", but the guy let me use it anyways. Now . . . this is just ridiculous. People have biological needs. Especially people riding bicycles. We have to hydrate (especially when it's hot), and we need to pee . . . a lot . . . because that regulates our hydration. And if I'm going to spend money at your business to buy liquid, you better let me use your restroom to let some out to make room. It only makes sense, right? People wonder why people urinate in public (and, for guys especially, pee in empty plastic bottles). Well, what other options do we have??? We're all going to have to start carring urinals with us.

Devil Ride

2009-07-12T18:08:00.000-07:00

Today I rode my (road) bike from Balboa Park to Campo and back. 116miles. Just over 7,300ft of climbing.

I started the ride out pretty strong (although I later found out it was because I was going downhill). But I did plow up the initial hills on the ride, including the climb up to (and past) Jamul. I then had a swweeeeeet descent into the "Barrett Dip" (the dip down to Barrett Junction). Of course, a dip has an "up" part as well, and this "up" part (to Portrero) was about 2,000ft of non-stop climbing. And I had to stop a couple of times because it was getting hot and I needed to hydrate (and stretch out my lower back). But I eventually made it to Portrero.

After a stop at the pleasant Portrero general store, I hopped back on the bike and endured a little more climbing until I finally hit my next sweet descent down towards Campo. Just a little winding climb up to Campo, and then I finally arrived. And at this point, I was starting to get hot and tired.

I came upon this local Mexican food/hamburger/ice cream stand in Cameron Corners (1 mile past Campo), and indulged myself in one of their hamburgers (which was "really" good, although ordering the fries was a mistake because I was too full to eat them). But this little mom-and-pop place also has sentimental value. It was the last place we stopped on the last road trip Ronny and I took with Sheba. Sheba was the first dog Ronny and I got together, and (God bless her soul), she died of lymphoma back in 2007. I remember at that food stand, we got Sheba some vanilla ice cream (plain), just as a treat. And she could barely even take a couple licks of the ice cream. It was clear she ws going downhill. And we tried all the medicine (western and eastern) we could, and it only helped her for four months. But the cancer started to get the best of her. She died the following day (we had to put her to sleep).

After stopping by the local grocery store to get some more water and electrolyte beverages, a local man came up to me and we started chatting about bikes. He told me that, living in rural areas, biking was a wonderful thing to do, but the problem was that there were no bike shops nearby. It was kind of cool to talk to a local and get his perspective on living out in the country. I told him about my Mom and Step-Father's experiences living in rural America as well.

Before leaving Campo, I had a problem. I bought too much water and Gatorade. And I bought big bottles hoping they could fill up the water bottles on my bike. Well ... they did ... a little TOO much. So I had to stuff a small Gatorade bottle and this HUGE gatorate bottle in the back pockets of my jersey. I tell you, jersey pockets are amazing. They're like Mary Poppins' bag.

I left Campo, and most of the ride down to Barrett Junction was downhill. The problem was that there were strong headwinds. And it was quite an experience going down these hills at 30-35miles per hour with headwinds and crosswinds batting you about. I was on the "edge of control". I was going fast enough to let physics pull me at the speed it wanted, but I braked and steered just enough to make sure I didn't let the wind bat me down a cliff or onto the asphalt in front of an overtaking truck.

Then, the ride started to suck. I climbed the opposite "up" of the Barrett Dip, and not only was it a hard climb, but I was fighting headwinds. Plus, it was hot. And I was tired. And after struggling with that climb, the rest of the ride was just awful. Not even my farts from lunch helped propel me enough (okay, maybe that was un-called-for). I just became an anchor on that bike. A slug. I stopped a lot, and whined even more.

But...I made it through. I rode the entire ride. And even though I got home later than I wanted, I still finished it. And I'm happy.

Guilt

2009-07-05T14:31:00.000-07:00

I feel guilty. I snuck away this morning to go for a bike ride. Ronny just got out of the hospital yesterday, and is still sick (at home). But I snuck away and did a bike ride for a few hours. I haven't been on my bike in over a week, and I have a lot of training to do, and I just wanted to do something for myself. I was having withdrawals. And as it was, I was only gone for a few hours (I was back by noon). But I still felt guilty for doing this, instead of just staying home with Ronny.

Ronny's basically just sleeping. I gave him his pills and a little breakfast (he's not eating much right now) before I left. And he knew I was going, and was fine with that (he was feeling guilty that I wasn't riding). And yet I still felt bad that I was leaving him. Was I being a bad husband?

One thing I've learned is that, when you are the caregiver, you still need to take care of yourself. You still need to do things for yourself. Because by doing that, you feel more centered, and better able to take care of your loved ones. If you don't, you start to get crabby, unhappy, and possibly even resentful. And then you're no good to anyone. It's sort of like you're taking care of two people: your loved one, and yourself.

And yet the guilt never goes away . . .

I was hoping the bike ride this morning would cheer me up. And I did feel a little better that I finally got back on my bike (although I'm not as strong as I was). But it didn't make me much happier.

While sitting in McDonalds in Ramona, trying to eat my greasy hash browns and "cheese whiz" breakfast burritos, I got really sad. Sad and feeling helpless. Sad and feeling helpless because I really don't know what's going on with Ronny. He just seems to be getting sick more frequently. And I don't understand why, or how. And I have not heard any satisfactory explanations from any of his doctors. They basically get him out of each illness, and then send him on his way. But there's no explanation. No explanation why he gets sick a lot. No explanation why he sweats all the time. No explanation for why he always feels enervated.

And even scarier, is where is all of this going? Is he going to get better? Is this the way things are? Will Ronny be able to travel again? Will he be able to do the things he loves again?

I just don't know.

We humans have a craving for the answers. We always want an explanation for everything. But sometimes . . . there just is no explanation.

And maybe that's why I feel the guilt.