Fun at Sun Peaks

Every summer, Bruce and I take a week off of work and spend some time in beautiful British Columbia.  We love BC.  Every part of it is gorgeous in a different way.  The eastern Rockies, the south-central Okanagan, the Shuswap, the desert around Kamloops, the coastal mountains of the lower Coquihalla, and, our favourite, the Sunshine Coast.  It's all good.

So we meander through the interior, usually with the goal of ending up in Roberts Creek, where my grandparents reside (also known as the hippie-haven where I spent my first four years on this planet).  We camp and enjoy the scenery and (better than Alberta) weather along the way, then race through Vancouver to catch the ferry (the Sunshine Coast is on a peninsula north of Vancouver that is only accessible by ferry; Bruce still thinks it's an island, but it is actually on the mainland).

This year, our meanderings took us west from Canmore (where I had just finished participating in Dirt Series) along the TransCanada Highway.  We had carefully planned our route so that we would pass through Kamloops, an area reputed to have excellent XC trails.  After much online exploration of the area, we had decided to book a room at the nearest ski resort, Sun Peaks, and enjoy the ski lift (after all, we're on vacation; why should we have to do any climbing?).

Unfortunately, I had injured myself while biking in Canmore.  On the day we should have been biking, we went canoeing to give my knee more time to heal.  This is the cool think about Sun Peaks - there's so much to do there!

On our last day in Sun Peaks, I really wanted to bike, pain or no.  We purchased lift tickets and rode to the top.

Not being experienced DH riders, we took the greenest route to the bottom.  It was a good thing we did!  It was a fun trail to ride, but there were a lot of switchbacks (which, as has already been discussed, I am no good at).  I wiped out on a little bridge and I still have a very nasty bruise on my right butt cheek a week-and-a-half later.

We gave the bikes a once-over at the bottom and rode back up.  Our purpose had been to try out the Big Rock Ride, which is an XC trail from the top of the mountain that had just opened up this year.  Here is my GPS data from the ride.

BRR was really fun!  I just wish it had been longer.  The top section was pretty technical.  Lots of rocks and roots and logs and bridges and whatnot.  The trail is really well-signed.  Oh, and there are cows up there.

They seem like pretty friendly cows, but then I was raised on a cattle ranch.  If you're uncomfortable around large animals, watch out for them.  Also, don't feed them.  And steer around their poop if you can.

It's all downhill, which is great.  At some point the technical bit ends and you just ride a doubletrack road the rest of the way down (the signs go from blue to green).  We got going pretty fast there.  The bike shop guys had advised us to duck into the nordic trails for more riding, instead of following the road back to town.  This is where we encountered more cow poop and I flatted very undramatically.

Luckily, the hotel we had been staying at had a bike-washing station, so we were able to clean up our bikes before loading them up and heading for Vancouver!

Our time on the Sunshine Coast was brief but nice.  It's always good to see my paternal grandparents and my aunt and cousins.  We didn't do any biking here this year, due to my injury and the DH nature of most of the riding, but we did try stand-up paddleboarding in the Sechelt Inlet and it was pretty sweet too.

And now we're home.  Back in Alberta and back to work!

Dirt Series

My name is Sue and I'm a mountainbikeaholic.

So I went to Trek Dirt Series last weekend in Canmore.  I found out about Dirt Series by googling around for skills camps and I signed up as soon as registration opened in February.  Because I am addicted to mountain biking, I wanted to do everything in my power to become a better mountain biker.  I'd read all the books and watched all the videos.  I was riding all the trail I could.  But Dirt Series provided the opportunity to learn from some real pros and get actual feedback about whether I was doing it right.

It was fun too.  I had some friends who were interested in tagging along, so we made it a girls weekend, rented a sweet condo in Canmore, and loaded up our bikes (without the help of our husbands).

Lisa with our Trek Lush's loaded up

We were so nervous the morning of the camp!  I was a bit sad to be split up from my buddies on the first day, but in retrospect I think it was for the best.  I got the instruction I needed and they felt comfortable in their respective skill-groups.

We did skills in the morning and went for trail rides in the afternoon.  I did well with straight-line riding, but struggled with cornering.  Although I couldn't seem to get the cornering down during the camp, I've worked on it since and it has come a long way!  Roll-downs were easy for me (I had a chance to perfect this in Moab last year).

The trail ride wasn't quite what I expected.  First of all, it was really hot.  I mean REALLY hot.  And we were climbing a lot, being in the mountains and all.  I guess I expected to just go out and ride, but the reality was that we were stopping every few minutes to discuss skills and strategies for tackling some of the more technical terrain we encountered.  This instruction was really useful, but there were a few points when I wanted to just ride for a while, you know?

A Dirt Series coach demonstrating a tricky feature

We met back at the bike shop for pizza and beer, provided by the camp.  It was delicious!  All four of us were enjoying meeting the other camp participants and taking advantage of the 10% off deal the bike shop offered.

I think everyone was pretty tired going into day 2, but there was also an enthusiasm for mountain biking that had replaced the nerves of the previous morning.  We were all having a great time.

From left: Serena, Tara, Lana, Lisa

We got to choose which skills sessions we would take on the second morning.  I should have chosen switchbacks or high-speed cornering, but the immature part of my brain won out and I choose jumps.  Jumps was waaaaay too much fun.  I'd practiced wheel lifts at home so it came pretty naturally.

Then another trail ride!  We did the G8 trail out of Canmore.  Again, there were lots of stops for instruction.  The ride was just getting fun when we came to a steep, rocky, switchback section.  I went down last and promptly crashed massively.  I was all mental going into the loose corner and I just lost it.  I crushed my right knee between the handle-bars and frame and went down and did a few somersaults.  I bet it looked cool, but it hurt.  Biking back out of the bush was pretty painful and I had a baseball sized swelling above my knee by the time I got picked up.  If only I had chosen switchbacks!

Anyway, all in all it was a fantastic weekend.  I had a great time hanging out with my girlfriends, met some new people, and I think I'm a better mountain biker overall.  I can't wait to get out and put these skills to the test!

Lana, Lisa, and Tara enjoying a few post-Dirt Series beers

Review: The Enlightened Cyclist

 As an atheist, there are few things that I do religiously, but reading BikeSnobNYC is definitely one of them.  Bike Snob is hilarious.  Sometimes I read his blog at work and I literally laugh out loud while surrounded by customers (I also scroll very quickly past the pictures of naked ladies on recumbents).

Bike Snob's first book was super funny too.  I think my favourite bit was when he call triathletes "the turduckens of the cycling world."  Again, I frequently laughed out loud while reading it, but it was also educational.  I now know about the dynamics between different kinds of cyclists and the history of the bicycle.  All around, I enjoyed this book immensely and heartily recommend it to anyone who enjoys cycling.

So that's why I'm very sorry to say that I obtained less enjoyment from Bike Snob's new book, The Enlightened Cyclist. 

Generally, it's about commuting by bike, and the attaining of transcendence through this activity.  I agree with the premise.  Bike commuting makes sense for individuals and society, plus it just makes a person feel really good (because of the green thing, but also because of all the endorphins and the fresh air).  Personally, I love riding my bike to work, or to the grocery store, or to a friends house for beer, or whatever.  It's awesome!  I hope to do it for the rest of my life.

But The Enlightened Cyclist is all about bike commuting in New York, and the problems in getting around (whether by bike or car) that they have in New York just don't exist in other places.  For example, "Shoaling".  I had never heard of this phenomenon before, where cyclists actually butt in line at stop lights.  That's crazy!  I'm generally the only cyclist on the road on my way to work, so this would never happen to me.  My commuting problems include drivers waving me through stop signs because they think that I'm a pedestrian and they don't know that I'm supposed to obey traffic rules.  I live in a town with one bike lane that doesn't lead anywhere.  I have to commute on a mountain bike because my route requires me to jump over numerous curbs and navigate a rutted gravel parking lot.

Needless to say, I found it hard to relate to the commuter problems encountered by Bike Snob.

I also found the book to be less funny that the blog.  Bike Snob is trying to get a serious point across here, and he layers in philosophy and psychology to explain the nature of people commuting.

However, the idea behind it all is really good.  Cars do have a role.  They are perfect for hauling large things and going long distances.  But a bike is better for getting around in small areas.  It's quick and easy and it's good for people.  I fully support the notion of getting more people to use bikes for day-to-day travel and cars when they are needed.  I hope Bike Snob can convince at least a few people to try it out.

Review: Road to Valor

It's hard to say to what extent my enjoyment of Road to Valor was influenced by my love of cycling.

The book is essentially a biography of World War II era cyclist, Gino Bartali. Bartali was a two-time winner of the Tour de France, but he was also a war hero who helped to save many Italian Jews from the Nazis. His story is an interesting and complex one, but for all that, he isn't a very likeable character.

Gino Bartali won the Tour de France in 1938 and 1948.

For me, the most fascinating parts of the book were those that described the early days of the Tour de France. The final chapters were particularly gripping, and the reader will really feel the tension as Gino struggles through the mountain passes of the Tour and Italy struggles to recover from the war.

I would definitely recommend this book to anyone who is interested in World War II Italy or the history of bicycle racing.

The Ride to Conquer Cancer 2012

Part of me still can't believe that I am sitting here on my couch, warm and dry and protected from the elements.

Last Saturday, Bruce and I (and a few friends) embarked on an epic journey.  After raising over $18,000 for the Alberta Cancer Foundation, we were tasked with riding over 200 kilometres of Alberta foothills.

In the rain.

One might ask why a reasonably sane person would take part in such a ride.  After all, the money has already been raised.  It's not like the physical act of riding is going to save any lives, right?  If we had stayed home and eaten chips all weekend, would anyone have even noticed?

All of these questions ran through my brain as I sat in our vehicle on Saturday morning, contemplating the wet conditions outside and the waiting bicycle leaning against the hood.  Nonetheless, I wiggled into my chamois shorts, donned my "waterproof" gloves and "waterproof" jacket, and prepared to ride.

We were underway by 8:30 am and the rain was light.  Unfortunately, the road was rough and muddy in places (I felt like an old-timey Tour de France racer, circa 1948) and I was shortly quite wet and splattered with muck.  No matter, I was at least managing to keep up with Bruce as he wove amongst the throng of riders.  The rain eventually let up and we rode in cool, overcast conditions between ~km 10 and 80.

My legs felt good.  I was keeping my cadence high, as Selene Yaeger taught me, and I didn't start to feel uncomfortable in my shoulders and wrists until about 50 km in.  This was also roughly the time when the team started to feel warm enough to remove our rain coats and show off our jerseys.

#fuckyoucancer

This only lasted for 30 km, but it felt good!

We rode back into rain shortly after lunch and it persisted, in various intensities, for the remainder of the ride.  The last 20 km were the wettest of the day, soaking my feet right through and obscuring my vision.

We had been told in the morning that the route on day one was 115 km, but this was a lie.  I don't remember who told it, but the actual distance was 120 km, and let me tell you, those were the hardest 5 km of my life up to that point.  We were riding through gentle rolling hills, and every time I crested a hill, I expected to see the camp laid out before me.  This happened over and over and over, until I finally cruised down the big hill to Chain Lakes Provincial Park.

When you bike all day in the rain, you start to really look forward to getting to camp.  You keep thinking about being warm and dry and getting the pressure off your crotch and how relaxed you'll finally feel.  Imagine your disappointment to arrive to pouring rain, leaky tents, wet luggage, and more mud than should reasonably exist in the world.

I don't mean to be critical of the organizers of this charity event, but as a lifelong camper, I suspect that the planners had not done much camping.  Even something as simple as laying down planks in the high-traffic areas (so that people didn't have to walk in the mud and wet) would have done a lot for rider morale.  Rant done.

In terms of sleeping conditions, we were lucky to have not unrolled our bed before noticing the leak.  We mopped up the water and Bruce (my hero) swiped an extra tarp to throw over the top.  It poured rain until 1:30 in the morning, but we were probably some of the driest people in the place.

But morning did arrive, and it was time to leave the dry security of our tent and re-enter the mud pit.  It was no longer raining, but none of our gear was even remotely dry.  I think putting my relatively dry feet back into those wet, muddy bike shoes was one of the hardest parts of the entire weekend.  We dropped off our bags, retrieved our bikes, scarfed down a waffle and a banana, and hit the road once again.

Day two was much more difficult.  My legs were no longer fresh and the mud and wet had taken a psychological toll on me.  Luckily, Bruce remained close by as we rode and I took advantage of the frequent snack stops to keep my motor running.  We did eventually ride out of the rain, but it continued to threaten us all day long.

I knew I was going to make it when we hit the half-way mark.  By this time, I was riding much slower than on day one, but Bruce was with me and I knew my heated seat was waiting at the finish line.  Bruce literally pushed me up some of the longer hills, placing his hand on my back and pedaling for both of us so that I could have a break.

The sky really opened up during the last 20 km or so.  Water was pelting out of the sky, stinging my back and arms through my soaked jacket.  We knew we were close, though, and we really started to hammer on it.  I switched into my big ring and we were passing people like crazy, whipping down the hills at 56 kph in the downpour.  There were only 3 km left to go!

Then Bruce flatted.  I didn't know whether to laugh or cry.  He fixed it up quick and we were back on the road.

We crossed the finish line at 12:05 pm, after 223 km of riding.

223 km on a bike gives one a lot of time to think.  I thought a lot about the similarities between this cycling journey and fighting cancer.  You know when you start out that it's going to be a long haul.  You have to conserve your energy when you can and go balls out when you have to.  Sometimes you climb a huge hill only to find and even bigger one on the other side.  You can feel demoralized at times by the monumental distance, but also encouraged by the strangers at the side of the road in the rain, shouting "YOU CAN DO THIS!"  The support of friends and family can mean everything.  And through it all, you only have two choices: keep fighting or stop.

And that's the worst part; no matter what, some people won't make it to the finish line.  It's heartbreaking. 

So, I'm glad I got out of the car, because maybe now I understand a little better.

Thank you for supporting me.  I would never have made it without you.

www.conquercancer.ca

A Cleatastropic Start to the Cycling Season

Since Christmas, there have been two shiny sets of Crank Brothers pedals sitting in my office.  Santa was kind enough to bring me a set of egg-beaters for my Madone and a set of Mallets for my Lush.  On Boxing Day, I went to Ernie’s and purchased a set of pink and black Specialized cycling shoes that would work with either pedal (I can’t ride two bikes at once, right?  So why have two sets of shoes?).

Although I biked around a bit in the winter, I wasn’t quite brave enough to try out my clipless pedals until conditions were less slippery.  On the Madone, I managed to give the egg-beaters a try back in February, when a warm spell dried out the road for a few days.  This went well.  I was obsessive about remembering to unclip and I didn’t have any of the ridiculous accidents I’ve heard about where riders stop and then tip over in slow motion.  I was pleased.

Mountain biking with clipless pedals has been a different story.  I think maybe the Mallets are harder to clip into than the egg-beaters, but that’s not the only problem.  I know this may be hard to believe, but I am actually quite accident-prone.  And now, I have this terrible fear of having a major mountain biking catastrophe with my feet still attached to my bike.  Bruce, of course, assures me that my feet will unclip themselves in an accident, as if by magic.  I don’t believe it for a second.  I’m probably going to end up with bones poking through my skin and no front teeth.

There’s also this weird scenario where I remember to unclip one foot, then in attempting to unclip the other foot I manage to shift my weight and fall over.  So now I always unclip both feet simultaneously and cruise to a stop with my feet in the air and the pedals spinning freely.  It looks really cool.

Reaction times are also slower.  Last week, I slammed on my brakes when I came around a corner to find a tree in my path.  I skidded to a quick stop (gawd, the Lush has amazing brakes), heart pounding, and then promptly crashed sideways into the dirt.  In retrospect, maneuvering around the tree might have been a good idea.

So, to clip-in or not to clip-in?  The jury is still out.  I’m going to keep using them for the time being, and maybe my issues will resolve with practice.  Certainly, on familiar, relatively open trails, I am comfortable using the Mallets.  In a racing situation with a lot of climbing (like Leadville) they are infinitely superior to flat pedals.  On technical singletrack?  Not a chance. 

Exercise Makes me Sick

My cold symptoms have returned!  Like in February, I am back to waking up every morning unable to swallow, then hacking up a gigantic green booger.  It's unpleasant, to say the least.

And I'm wondering if it's a result of "overtraining".  Now, Bruce scoffed at me recently when I suggested that my sudden immune system failure (after years of never getting sick) could be from overtraining.  I'm barely training at all, let alone overtraining.  But my reasoning isn't that wacky.  I read in this book:

...that overtraining can happen to anyone (even schmucks like me) because it isn't just the training that causes the immune system to be run down, but the cumulative life stress of the trainee in question.  Admittedly, I don't handle stress well and I generally use my down time to re-charge.  Lately, I've spent a lot more of my down time exercising than ever before.  I've also taken on more responsibility at work.  I feel stretched out, like "butter scraped over too much bread" (-Bilbo Baggins).

The other factor is that we went for a road ride on Friday afternoon.  The weather was gorgeous, the road was dry, and I felt really good for the whole ride.  Then I got sick.  I know correlation does not equal causation and all that, but I really feel like if I push myself past my limits my body won't respond well.  And, unfortunately, my limits don't seem very high at the moment.

(Training Techniques for Cyclists also gave me a few other training gems.  It's a short book - I read it in one sitting - but I thought it was useful.)

Why Does Everyone Pick on Poor Portland?

Both PZ Myers and BikeSnob have made fun of hipsters from Portland this week (granted, BikeSnob always makes fun of hipsters from Portland, but still).  I wonder, could these two intelligent and witty bloggers in fact be the same person?

  

See?  They both have very suspicious looking beards and part their hair on the left side.  You'll note that the PZ disguise features grey dye in the beard, glasses, and a pretentiously Portlandish shoulder bag that BikeSnob would never be caught dead in.

It's a clever trick, but I'm onto him.  Whoever he is.

Warm Fuzzies

There is a lot of warm fuzzy bike feelings in the air.  I think this might be a direct result of the spring-ish weather that has been around for the past few days.  Up here in the north, we've been cooped up indoors for the better part of five months, and now we're ready to get outside and enjoy it (even though it's only 10 degrees C, which would keep us indoors at any other time of year).  Many of us are choosing to enjoy the outdoors via bicycle, which is an excellent idea. 

Perhaps it's just a result of "like attracts like" that I seem to be surrounded by so many other bike-minded people.  However, if I allow my optimism to run rampant, I have to admit that it seems like our city might be becoming more bike-friendly than ever before, and that perhaps cycling is experiencing a resurgence in popularity here.

For example, our local bike shop is once again putting on the Trek $30 for 20.  Basically, you keep track of how much you bike to work and they give you a $30 gift card for every 20 rides.  I participated last year and it helped to motivate me to continue bike commuting throughout the summer.  Plus, I bought my first pair of baggy mountain bike shorts with the proceeds!

Also, a while back our city had a workshop about how to love our city and make it a better place called "Love GP".  There were two suggestions for community building projects that received $500 in funding and one of them was a bike takeover.  So now I've joined up with the Grande Fondo committee to plan something bike-alicious for the community.  It's pretty cool that a bike event was chosen out of all the great ideas presented at the Love GP workshop. 

But who doesn't like riding a bike?  It's just nice.

The Leadville Training Plan

Today brought in another email newsletter from the Leadville Race Series.  I've been disappointed in the past to see that the information in these newsletters is not remotely useful to me, but this time there was a nugget of relevance.  A simple letter from Dave Wiens, a Leadville superstar, about training for the big race.

In case you haven't heard of Dave Wiens, he's a pretty cool dude.  He's won Leadville six times, and he even beat LANCE ARMSTRONG one of those times.  Like, seriously.  Lance Armstrong.

So, he says it's OK to not "train".  He points out that some people benefit from strict training regimens with heart rate and power monitoring and recovery days, while others can do just as well by riding for fun.  That's right, folks.  By just going out and enjoying riding your bike, you can accomplish just as much as the dorks who know their optimal heart rate.

I find this to be very encouraging.  I shall immediately begin not training, which, incidentally, I have already been doing for years.

On the other hand, we recently watched the Leadville documentary Race Across the Sky, and in it, Dave Wiens' wife (who is a rockstar mountain biker herself) says she thinks he's totally nuts for doing this race. That can't bode well for me.

Follow Dave Wiens on Twitter!  @wienr (really, that's his twitter handle).

If the Phone Doesn't Ring...

My dad is a big fan of Jimmy Buffett.  When I was a kid, we would drive around the countryside (doing farm stuff) with his collection of Jimmy Buffett cassette tapes.  My favourite album was Last Mango in Paris, which had classics like Jolly Mon Song, Gypsies in the Palace, and, of course, If the Phone Doesn't Ring, It's Me.

Logically, a lot of phrases from Jimmy Buffett songs made it into our daily vernacular, and "If the phone doesn't ring, it's me" was no exception.  Dad was notorious for his dislike of telephonic conversations, and once we moved to Alberta, this dislike made it very difficult for him to communicate with his best friend, Mike.  We'd ask him if he had spoken to Mike lately, and he would reply, "Well, you know, if the phone doesn't ring, it's Mike."

Despite this, they would get together once a year or so and drink beer as if they hadn't been separated a day since they were children.  They have had close to 50 years of the most amazing friendship I have ever seen.

But now Mike is dying of cancer.

Mike has a wife, two children, and three grandchildren.  I hope all of his loved ones know that once he's gone, the phone may not ring, but it will always be him.

Please donate to cancer charities.  Please, please, please.  We're completely powerless against cancer unless we do everything we can to support research.  I'll be biking 200 km in June for this very reason.  For Mike, for Keith, for Hayley's Dad, for Michelle's Dad, for Brian's mom, and for everyone else I know who has suffered because of cancer.

Fuck you cancer.  Fuck you.