WeeFun Chronicles Redux

I have never been afraid of rattlesnakes. I see them all the time here. You've proably seen my pictures. I get quite close when I take those pictures, because they are quite slow as animals go. Rattlers are short and fat and can only strike a short distance compared to other snakes. Nothing to worry about as long as you are aware of your surroundings and watch where you step or ride.

After well over 40 years of being a cyclist, I feel like The Terminator while I am riding. I am constantly scanning the road or trail for dangers great and small. Much of this behavior probably comes from road riding in the old days when our tiny tires seemed to be made of rice paper, and any small, sharp object had the potential to greatly delay a ride because of a puncture. Patching or changing a tube on the side of the road in those days was a long and labor intensive process. I still go into red alert when I see broken glass even though my huge tubeless tires are completely immune to it.

Yesterday Jennifer and I were riding on the bike trail. Jenn isn't quite as aware of her surroundings as I am. She doesn't have as much riding experience, nor has she endured the flat-tire trauma I have. You can't learn to anticipate the gunfire if you've never been shot. Without the PTSD of riding in olden times, she runs over things on occasion, including the odd animal.

We were riding along and going from full sun to shade under some trees. That dappled sunlight that makes light and dark patches is the very situation that many animals' coloration is designed to imitate as camouflage. I was about eight feet behind Jenn and to her right. Up ahead I saw the rattler right in front of her, but I didn't have time to issue a warning. She ran right over it.

The next two seconds slowed down like a movie. I heard the rattling start almost immediately. Hell, the snake probably started rattling right before impact when it realized something very bad was about to happen.

As I kept rolling, a very pissed off and probably injured rattlesnake started looking to defend itself. The nearest threat was me. It struck as I passed to the right of it. I shifted my weight to my right pedal as I also tilted the bike to the right. I lifted my left foot (thank you flat pedals!) up and to the right as the snake's head passed right by my ankle. I could see the wide-open mouth as I passed by. I exclaimed "holy shit!" as I looked back to see the writhing snake on the trail. We both slowed almost to a stop and turned around to see if the snake was OK. By the time we reached the impact point it was gone.

Like the shards of glass in the '80s, I am now the tiniest bit afraid of rattlesnakes. I have added them to my Terminator database. Future scans will pick up rattlers earlier and identify them at a higher threat level than before.

I'll be back.

Later.

Crazy Train

Today I decided to put in some miles on the bike trail after work. I started at Hazel Avenue and rode west towards Sacramento.

Although I chanced it today, I generally don't ride solo past CSUS because that's where things get a little sketchy on the trail. The Guy West Bridge is sort of the Mason-Dixon line for crazy. Go past it at your own risk. Case in point:

Yes, that's a guy in an overcoat and top hat roller blading.

If you are bold enough to go under Highway 80, which I did, it gets even worse.

Who the hell knows what is lurking in there.

Shortly after crossing under the highway I saw a guy sharpening a huge knife against a concrete picnic table. I opted not to take his picture due to the crazy eyes, huge weapon and a generally stabby vibe he had, but I found a reasonable facsimile on the internet:

Mmmmm-hmmmm.

I put in 41 miles and survived. Truthfully, it was a little disappointing to only see a couple crazy people. I guess Mondays are tough on everyone.

Oh, and a weight update: 171.6 pounds this morning. I lost almost four pounds in a week. Nice.

Later.

El Mes de Mayo

It's May, which means it is time to start riding more. I only pledged 500 miles this year, which should be an attainable goal, even with my busy schedule.

Just for grins I hopped on the scale this morning and I weighed in at a robust 175.4 pounds. Yikes. My all-time record was 180 pounds back in the early '90s when I "retired" from racing and quickly gained 45 pounds. I never thought I would ever get anywhere near 180 again. Bike month couldn't have arrived at a better time.

Today I liberated the road bike that has been sitting on the stationary trainer for at least two years. I have to admit, it was pretty fun to get in the drops and go fast. It's been a long time.



The river still has an unbelievable flow going. So much water.



It's finally warm enough for the rattlers to come out.

I put in a modest 30 miles, but the ride was made tougher due to the high winds.

Unlike previous years, when I rode too much early and either burned out or got sick, I am going to start slow with the hopes of finishing strong.

Later.

Medium Rare

Jennifer and I made it out for a somewhat rare ride together on the bike trail yesterday. I'm not sure Jenn has been on a bike at all since our Monterey trip in March. Our schedules make it difficult to ride together, and her preferred exercise is yoga, which she loves as much as I love riding. She always worries about not being in shape when she does get to ride, but she knocked out 25 miles no problem. There might just be something to this yoga thing.

We got a bit of a late morning start, so it was already very hot. Even though the trail is along the river, it always seems so much hotter out there.

OK, on to the pictures. Here Jenn demonstrates the uniquely female response to a camera coming out:

At the halfway point we took a timeout under the Watt Avenue bridge. I thought we might be able to score some dope, but no dealers showed up.

The river is flowing nice and high right now. It won't last.

Preparations for Eppie's Great Race tomorrow:

That's more like it:

We finished up with barely enough time to drive home and get Jenn to her early dinner date with friends. I had pizza and beer at Pete's. Later we had ice cream with our family down in Citrus Heights. Pretty good day in my book.

Later.

Mindless

I took the day off today because, well, working sucks. I wanted to ride, but I wasn't in the mood for dealing with cars or even concentrating enough to ride some singletrack. Sometimes I just want to shut my brain off. You know, get my Patrick on:

To the bike trail!

I threw the Jamis Dragon on the car and headed down. My goal was to knock out 40 miles, but with a late start, it would be tough to ride that far and be back in time to pick up the boy at school.

Taking off from the fish hatchery, I went hard from the start knowing I had to turn around at the 70 minute mark. As time expired I was at mile 19 and not feeling great. Unfortunately I had gone a little too hard, not eaten nearly enough breakfast, and had no food with me. I turned around knowing I had my work cut out for me.

Knobbies buzzing away, I dug deep to stay on pace. At one point I passed a roadie who then sat on my wheel for four miles. This is one of the things that drives me nuts about the bike trail. My aggravation at having him back there, sucking the wheel of a mountain biker, prompted me to go hard until I finally burned him off.

After dispatching my roadie foe, I limped in and finished the second leg in 68 minutes, averaging 16.5 miles an hour for the 38-mile ride. That's not going to win any Tour de France time trials, but I haven't done any speed work in years. The ride hurt a little bit, but it's fun to go out and test yourself once in a while.

Later.

Friday

Yesterday Jenn and I had a very rare day off together. Time to ride.

We started late due to a contractor being at our house, so we only had time for 20 miles.

The riding was nice, but as our drought continues on, the scenery isn't so great.

The river is low and barely moving.

The plan was to have sushi afterward, but Mikuni was so crowded the parking lot was overflowing. We settled for a nice lunch elsewhere and hurried off to pick up the boy from school. A nice way to end the workweek.

Later.

First Summer Ride

Today was our first ride together during summer vacation. We rode on the bike trail starting at the hatchery.

We started early. The temperature was cool and the trail was empty except for the occasional retiree.

We followed it up with a Smash Burger lunch.

It was a great way to start our summer. Hopefully there will be many more days like this one.

Later.

Weekend

The weather wasn't very cooperative this weekend, but I managed to get in a 50-mile ride on the bike trail on Saturday. Sometimes I like to get off the road and not have to worry about cars, the idiots who drive cars, potholes, dead animals, thorns, broken glass, or the idiots who break glass. On the bike trail you can just spin your legs and shut down your brain for a while.

My intention was to take it slow and easy, but that never seems to happen. I had only been on the trail for a little over three miles when a guy rode up beside me. Although it was overcast and cool, he was in shorts and a sleeveless jersey to show off his guns. No helmet on his shaved dome, because he's obviously too cool for that. He has the $6,000 bike, $500 shoes, fake orange tan, and other than his eyebrows, there isn't a single hair visible on his entire body. (Yeah, he even shaved his armpits.) He looked like a creepy alien dipped in Tang. Motioning towards my bike, he said, "What is that? Road bike? Cyclocross? Touring bike?"

"Road bike, mostly," I replied.

"The tires are freakin' HUGE," he said. "Must be slow."

I shrugged. Like I care what some androgynous dick on a carbon bike thinks.

I let him ride away, though he kept looking back—the way they always do—hoping for a race. I wasn't warmed up, and I wasn't in the mood.

About five miles later I had warmed up. Cruising along at a nice tempo, I passed some people; a few people passed me. Everyone was friendly and saying hello. Nobody was being competitive. Just a nice, quiet Saturday ride.

I came around a corner and I could see E.T. up ahead pedaling in squares, orange knees jutting out. Money might have bought the fancy bike and clothes, but it didn't buy that ugly pedal stroke. No, that was pure natural talent right there.

I rode my own tempo and closed the gap in a little under a mile. He looked surprised to see me as I passed, and immediately jumped on my wheel, as I knew he would.

I like to toy with these guys, especially the ones who make assumptions about my "slow" bike. I let him sit back there for a while as I rode at a comfortable pace. After a few minutes, I slowed noticeably. This makes the rider behind you think you're tiring.

I was not.

He came around and I slipped onto his wheel. Trying to drop me, he put the hammer down, peeking beneath his arm every once in a while to see if I was still there. After a couple minutes I let a little gap form to let him think it was working. As soon as he noticed, he accelerated again. I easily got back on his wheel and let him make his run. Fish on.

I think the most interesting aspect of sports is the psychology. Many times I have been on the winning or losing side of these mind games in real races. Unfortunately, only one guy wins a race, so you spend a lot of time learning lessons from the losses.

Even if you aren't racing, it's always fun to battle wits with someone to see if you can outfox them. Feigning weakness is one the oldest tricks in the bike racing book, but this guy had fallen for it.

He rode all-out for about two miles, which was actually pretty impressive, but sitting in his draft was relatively easy. When he completely detonated, I rode away from him without much effort on my fat-tired, slow bike.

Right at my turnaround point, I saw my friend Curtis riding in the opposite direction. I turned around and caught up. We haven't talked much since I quit my road racing team, so it was nice to ride with him for a while and catch up. After 11 miles, he turned back for home, and I was alone again.

About nine miles from my truck, the weather looked threatening. It started raining about three minutes after I took this picture:

It was a light rain, so it wasn't a big deal. I got back to the truck a little damp, but it was a nice, relaxing ride. Just what I needed after a long week.

Later.

Yeah, I Wanna Go

Today I woke up tired, stiff and famished after my long ride in the foothills. I went to Adalberto's, a Mexican place that I frequent, and bought TWO huge breakfast burritos. I ate them on the couch while watching the Giro d'Italia coverage on TV. It was way too much food, and I was quite full.

At about 8 a.m. I went out to do a short recovery ride on my mountain bike to loosen up. I only wanted to go for an easy spin, but things never go as planned on the WeeFun Trail.

I rode a mellow 15 mile-per-hour tempo up to Goethe Park, my turnaround point. It was warm, the air smelled fresh and clean, and there were lots of animals out. It was quite peaceful.

Shortly after turning around, two guys on road bikes passed me, and I decided to jump on the back and ride with them for a while. People draft each other on the bike trail all the time, and it's typically no big deal. Not today.

It really pissed off one of the guys. There is a small percentage of riders who only ride road bikes and have a strong distaste for mountain bikers. Had I been on my road bike, like yesterday, he probably would have welcomed me. But that was yesterday.

He said, "You want to go? Huh? You wanna go? Then let's go!"

He had a strong New York accent with the matching stereotypical attitude. He sprinted away with his buddy right on his wheel. Even though I was very tired from the day before, and so full from breakfast that I could feel the food right below my throat, I gave chase. This guy was being an ass, so I just HAD to chase them.

I caught back up to them without too much struggle, and the guy kept looking back to see if I had given up yet. Each time he saw that I hadn't cracked, he increased the speed. Soon we were doing 27 miles per hour. After about a mile his buddy couldn't take it anymore, and a gap started to form. I went around him and bridged back up to the jerk in front. He looked back, and I could see that he was surprised to see me and not his buddy on his wheel.

He increased the speed a little more, and after a minute or so looked back again. I looked him right in the eye and shook my head "no" as if to say, "Is that all you got?"

At this point he was "turning the cranks in anger," as Phil Liggett would say. I looked down to see that we were doing 31 miles per hour. Flying. My knobby tires buzzed like a hive of angry bees.

Not quite obeying the 15 mile per hour speed limit, we performed the giant slalom through bike trail traffic, scaring wildlife and sending joggers scurrying to the shoulder. This was stupid behavior, I know, but I wanted to kick this guy's ass.

My legs were really burning and it felt like I was going to puke very soon. I held on for about five minutes longer and then completely cracked. As soon as I fell back he slowed down, too, so I know he was right at his limit.

I held on to his wheel for almost five miles, though, so I felt like I made my point. I was hoping to see him up ahead waiting for his slow friend, but somehow I never saw either of them again. I wanted to tell him that I would have torn his fucking legs off on my road bike, but I doubt I would have said anything. Anyway, he probably knew the likely outcome of a battle on level ground.

I rolled up to my door with 21 miles, but fell far short of the easy recovery miles I really needed. Maybe tomorrow.

Later.