Backslidden

This really should not be called a “Bible.” There is plenty of Law (aka Old Testament) but there is no fall back Grace or Mediator (New Testament) to count on when you mess it all up.

Since early January, I have tried to follow Joe Friel's base mileage chart, but I clearly am not able to get the number of hours in per week that he and other experts recommend for someone who is trying to be remotely competitive. Last week, for instance—6.5 hours—pitiful. That number does not even make Friel’s chart for rest week hours. The longest week I have done since I started is 15 hours. I had to scrap, cut work, ignore life for every one of those hours.

I am sure it can be done with a busy schedule like mine, but it would take someone with better discipline and a more refined temperment than I have. So I guess I will just go back to my heathen backslidden ways. Whenever miles, whatever format, whatever works for that week kind of thing. Actually, I lie, I plan to continue following what he says about how to incorporate rest, weights, intensity, intervals and peaking, it's just that I need to work with a lower hours count than he recommends.

It sure would be nice to actually have talent (youth wouldn't hurt either) so that I could get away with burning the book. But I am an athlete who has to work for every inch I get. I know people (Beneline and Greco immediately come to mind) who can log low miles but still post impressive results on race day. They both have high standards for themselves and know how much better they can do with higher mileage, but nevertheless, they have their minds and bodies trained to compete well regardless. I really ought to find out what they read!

Not again!

(left, Hosang and Tom perform temporary single speed surgery to bypass the broken derailer. It really didn't take well.)

Bikes are beautiful, but if you are looking too closely, it usually means trouble. For the second time this season, a stick lodged into Tom's rear derailer and snapped the dropout. We had just hit the Ipswitch trials before experiencing a replay of what happened back in November.

Tom just had the derailer hanger and drop outs repaired by GT back in December. Seems the full supension frame is not up the task of dealing with common ailments. Tom stopped immediately after feeling the stick but it was too late. At least this time there was a chain tool on the scene.



Also, a bike is not as beautiful when viewed from certain angles. Like when it's being shoved, broken, into my car at night on the Campostella bridge.

It was a memorable weather night on this Wednesday night ride. Temps started at 6pm in the 50's then started dropping moments before the derailer broke. It was easily 10 degrees colder on the return trip from Ipswitch and 20mph wind pushed down the Campostella bridge. Clouds covered the sky stage set for an eclipse later that night, but I was in bed before all that went down.

Oh, the Love

(left, Paula, Eric, Mary and Carol roll through Pocahontas trails.)

The longest relationship I have ever had is with a city. Or more accurately a region, Hampton Roads. Many say it’s a confusing name, but it’s perfectly descriptive from a cycling perspective: Hampton Roads. Not Hampton Single Track. Not Hampton Hills. These Hampton Roads that can get awfully boring after a while.

It is difficult to explain to anyone outside this region just how completely flat the roads are. “Flat” is a blanket descriptor for regions that have so many more hills than here, thus diluting the real meaning of flat. DC is considered “flat,” but compared to here, it’s rollers land, for example.

It’s also hard to imagine a region this large with no sizeable trail system as in other populated areas. Like planted right in the middle of Philadelphia is Wissahickon Park, a wicked single-track system. We have woods (Seashore State Park, False Cape State Park, Dismal Swamp) but the riding trails there are double track and pancake-Sunday-ride flat. Plus, none of those parks have much potential for building decent single track since they are situated in wetlands and sensitive environments. Was I born a mountain biker to whither away here?

So what do I do? I sneak off on Wednesday nights to the only true single track trail, Indian River Park (aka Ipswitch) and get my kicks riding the meager 3 mile loop at night with a single light beam so I really don’t see the encroaching highway, car dealership and surrounding homes. I cling to a trail that has no room for growth and tell myself it will change someday. Sigh.

I also drive lots. On a typical Sunday it means driving an hour west of Hampton Roads to the various single track trails that EVMA has built and maintained in the Williamsburg region. I long for more extended and more hilly loops, but it sure is better than what we have over here. The longest loop is 8 miles at Freedom Park.

This past Sunday, I drove 2 hours with Carol to Pocahontas State Park, located near Chesterfield 20 miles south of Richmond. It’s simply a cell-phone-serviceable state park plopped in the suburbs, but I felt like I was in a sordid, backcountry affair. Paula, Frank and gang led us through perfectly groomed middle-ring ridge trails. It was a major rush to ride on a trail system 20 whole miles long in a place where the trees absorbed all cares and the dirt below gave way to a future. I wanted to flirt hard, do things like quit my job, abandon my house, ride in the woods forevermore. I fantasized about living in Richmond close to Pocahontas, Forrest Hill and central to the mountains, or in Harrisonburg close to GW and Shenandoah National Forrests or in PA. . . I had to stop myself.

I hate that I feel. I hate that I feel strongly for that which is not practical. I love my job, my family, my friends, my life. There would need to be more going on than a few dirt trails for me to move, let’s face it.

I mean, why do I stay in Hampton Roads from a cycling perspective? Number one, weather. Riding here is year round, and there are very few ice or snow interruptions. The temperature hangs out in 40F-50’s most of the winter, and I have observed that even Richmond 2 hours away and DC 3 hours away have temps consistently 10 degrees lower. Number two, people. There is a huge and vibrant (road) cycling community here. With the flat comes less risk of crashing and easier terrain, so more people stick with the sport. The area is known for large group rides, yet I wonder if we bond together to demonstrate our long-term commitment or is it to somehow head off the Hampton Roads monotony? Maybe both?

Super Views

I love the idea of being away from television and Internet on Superbowl weekend. It's not as if we don't still have linemen ready to take on the challenges of life. (Kevin and Blair)

I said to Jimmy as Sally crossed this wet log: "I guess it pays to have done gymnastics in school. Of course, Sally never did gymnastics. . . ."

Tim Starkey said, "Who knew Aunt Jemima was a white boy?"

Up to Reddish Knob.

Superview beats Superbowl every time.

See more photos of the weekend.

Loops: Saturday, descended Love gap, climbed Big Levels switchbacks, descended Big Levels back to Sherando, back up Love gap.

Sunday: Reddish Knob loop from the community center. (Meadow descent)