Day 4 Cottonwood AZ (103 miles, 8633 feet)

Before I begin, I found out this morning that there had been another trip to the hospital last night.  Another rider was severely dehydrated and needed an IV.  Three days of riding; three trips to the hospital.  Could we keep it up?

We spent the night in Wickenburg, AZ, which is a quaint, touristy cowboy town. It was nice and warm last night, but we had been warned that would change.  I checked the weather this morning and the temp for Wickenburg was 60 degrees.  The temp for our arrival town of Cottonwood was 57 degrees.  Being an actuary, I decided that the average temp for today's ride would be 58.5 degrees.  I could not have been more wrong.

I got my usual start, but this time with Scott - a rider from North Carolina.  By the time we got out of town, the temps were already dropping.  Fortunately, we were both wearing both leg and arm warmers.  We took turns pulling into a headwind - a nice pace, but we weren't going to kill ourselves this early on such a hard day.  Shortly out of town, you see the mountains in the distance. 

The first climb is grueling.  It goes on for hours at about a 6% - 7% grade and speed drops to single digits.  Even though he has a faster pace, Scott stays with me.  His mantra is "no riding in the van".  Once you hit the climbing, pacelines lose their advantage.  And that was clearly evident as the strong riders passed us - but this time, one by one instead of one massive group.  Everyone is fighting their own personal battle against the mountain.

About half way up, it starts to drizzle.  The desert around these parts is so dry, you have a hard time imaging that they get any rain.  By the time we reach the top, the temps have really fallen and it is sleeting.  The van is parked at the summit, and everyone grabs the clothes they put in the clothes bin for such an occassion.  For me, it is just a Gortex rain jacket.  Then we begin a crazy descent into the high mountain plains and meadows.  I love the descents.  It is the only reason to climb.  It is freezing cold, I'm soaking wet, sleet is pelting against my face and flying down the mountain, hitting speeds of up to 40 mph.  On tires as wide as a crayon. It is an unbelievable feeling that makes the climb worth the effort.

The fun comes to an end, and we begin our second climb of the day, this time heading up to the lunch SAG set up at a very small country store.  Temps have really fallen.  The SAG van is parked outside the store next to some picnic tables, but all of the riders are in the store trying to get warm.  As soon as I arrive, one of the very good riders collapses on the floor, suffering from hypothermia.  An ambulance is called and it is pretty scary for a while.  The good news is that a trip to the hospital is averted, and it is just a bundled trip in the van. 

At this point, team leader Mike opens up the luggage trailor and we all start to pull clothes out of our suitcases.  I grab wool socks, full fingered bike glothes, a Columbia vest, ear warmers and Gortex booties.  I do not have a helmet cover (to keep out the rain, wind and sleet) so Barbara and Mike fashion one out of a shopping bag.  No one wants to leave; this was the longest SAG I've seen this group take.  They usually want to grab some food, wolf it down and hit the road.  Finally riders start to take off one by one.  Scott and I leave as a pair.  As if on cue, it starts to snow. 

This second climb is just a tough as the first, but now we have to contend with the snow covered roads.  It is literally hour after hour of just turning the cranks and plowing up this moutain.  Gone are the cactus, replaced by pines.  The whole mountain is shrouded in fog.  I have my head down and just grinding out the pedals.  Scott shouts "Mike! Truck!"  I look up just in time to see a semi tractor trailor parked slightly off the road.  I run straight into it, face first and then bounce back.  My feet are still clipped into the pedals, so now I slowly fall to the side.  I have just run into a parked truck; good thing I was going only 6 mph.  Fortunately, there was no damage to the truck.  I made Scott take a picture of me (complete with shopping bag on my head).

The third and final climb of the day is the toughest.  I was traveling with Pacific Mike, Dick, Scott and Jim.  Again, no paceline advantage when climbing, but it was good to be in a group.  The descent into the small community of Jerome was ridiculous.  Fast, windy roads.  For the first time all day, we did not worry about cars passing us because they couldn't keep up with us.  My fingers were frozen, but it was an incredible descent.  We met up with several other riders at Haunted Burgers, which is the traditional stop on this day.  Afterwards, it was another plunge down to Cottonwood. 

This was another tough day with over 8 hours in the saddle.  Two days ago we were in 100 degree temps on the interstate, and today was 8600 feet of climbing in frigid temps.  Tomorrow is supposed to be very cold as well.  Not exactly what I was expecting.

Day 3 Wickenburg AZ (116 miles, 2999 feet)

First, let's go through the inventory of pain.  Left elbow: feeling pretty good. Everything else: hurts.  Feet hurt.  Toes hurt.  Hands hurt.  Fingers hurt.  Neck hurts.  Back hurts.  Seat really hurts. Hair hurts.  You get the idea.  Last night as a lay wide awake at 2am I thought "I probably should have brought some aspirin".  Despite the gallons of water I drank on and off the bike, I was still dehydrated.  We found out that temps on the interstate reached 100. 

Each night since arriving in California had about 3 hours of fitfull sleep.  So at 2:30am, I made a deal with myself.  I'd take the day off to give my body a chance to recuperate.  Day 4 is a big climb day, and I want to be in shape for that.  Five minutes before breakfast I decided that I should probably bike to the first SAG - it was only 40 miles out.  Once I got there, well it was only 22 miles to the next SAG - practically around the corner.  Then it was only 30 miles to the final SAG.  Not sure that I will fall for that ploy again.

The morning in Blythe CA started out perfect, except for one thing: it was in Blythe CA.  I'm sorry if you're from Blythe, but that town is dead and dying.  A complete contrast to Palm Springs where we had been the day before.  Anyway, it doesn't take long to get out of Blythe and onto the interstate.  I did my usual get out early routine.  The temps were ideal at 6:30 am - must have been low 60's.  What I failed to notice right away was that another rider was also leaving early.  It was Wolfgang from Austria (think Arnold Schwarzenegger, but a bit more determined).  He came up beside me, slowed and said "this headwind is refreshing".  I said, "Funny.  I was just thinking the same thing.  Except replace 'refreshing' with 'demoralizing'".  He took off and I could have sworn he said "I von't be back".  He is a great rider.

A few miles before the SAG (at the 40 mile point), I was able to catch and eventually pass Wolfgang.  He was on the side of the road changing a flat.  That meant that I was the first one to the SAG.  The staff were all confused; but the rest of the riders came in shortly.  The ride to the lunch SAG would not be as successful.  We were climbing, temps had risen considerably and we had a headwind.  The pacelines flew past me.  They're always real nice when they pass.  Each one says stuff like "Way to go, Mike" or "You're doing a great job".  Once again, Jay came to the rescue and paced me into SAG.

Just a quick word about pacelines.  If cyclists can ride in a line and very close to each other, there is a significant drafting effect.  Even the rider in front gets a slight reduction in drag.  By taking turns at the front, the paceline can travel much faster than a person on his own because each rider in the paceline conserves energy when they are not in front.  There is a danger, however, with pacelines. If your front wheel touches the back wheel of the person in front of you, you go down.  If the person in front slows up or stops pedaling for just an instant, there is a chance that person behind will run up on his back wheel and go down.  The person in front,and each peson behind, must maintain a very steady pace.  Furthermore, the person in front is responsible for pointing out road debris.

This part of Arizona is pretty desolate.  We spent about 70 miles on Route 60, which has been designated the "Loneliest Road in America".   It is just flat, empty desert with mountains well in the distance.  As we progressed, we saw more and more cactus.  Every once in a while, there is an RV park.  It is so strange - miles and miles of nothing, then this RV park in the middle of nowhere.  These are long term RV parks, with trailors that have been there for decades.  Who are these people hiding from?  Jay thinks it is a dumping ground for the federal witness protection program.

After lunch and about 15 miles from the 3rd and last SAG, Paul and Brian came up behind me.  They had mechanical issues that required help from Jim, the mechanic,which explains why they were behind me this late in the day.  Paul and Brian are both excellent cyclists and sandwiched me in between them for a paceline to the last SAG.  They purposefully kept to a slower pace so that I could stay with them.  We were hammering along at 20+ mph - this is a flat road with a pretty heavy side wind.  And this was keeping to a "moderate" pace - which was a good 5 mph faster than what I was doing on my own.  Everytime I was beat and thought I would have to drop out, the guys would slow up the pace until I could get it back together.  Like I've said before, we have a great group of cyclists and it is a pleasure to ride with each one of them.

Tomorrow (Day 4) is a killer day with nearly 10,000 feet of climbing.  Furthermore, it is supposed to be near freezing and precipitation is in the forecast.  I'm still in a deep deficit.  My legs are coming around, but it may not be soon enough.  Last year, my thighs blew up on one of the climbs about midway through.  I just couldn't continue and rode in the van for the rest of the day.  So this is fair warning that I may have to cut it short tomorrow.  We've already had two trips to the hospital, and I don't want to be responsible for the third.

On that note, the rider who went to the hospital last night for IV work was back and riding in great form today.  I don't know how.  If I had IV work, I'm calling in sick the next day.

Day 2 Blythe CA (137 miles, 2510 feet)

Today started out beautiful in Palm Springs.  Weather couldn't have been better - a little crisp and perfectly clear.  At lugguge load, I did my usual trick and slipped out just a little before everyone else.  This ride isn't a race by any means, but being out front is good for the spririt. Hall of Fame baseball player, Yogi Berra, once said "baseball is 95% mental; and the other half is physical".  Not sure those proportions hold exactly the same for biking, but it is basically the same. 

The neighborhoods of Palm Springs are gorgeous.  Our route took us down numerous streets including Dinah Shore Blvd and Frink Sinatra Drive.  I was able to stay out front until mile 27, when a speeding paceline of 4 riders caught me.  Jay (a rider from last year as well), dropped off and paced me into the first SAG stop at mile 48.  Not only is Jay an excellent and fast cyclist, he has an infectious upbeat attitude that makes him a joy to be around.  Those 21 miles riding together flew by; we were averaging around 20 mph.

After that first SAG, things began to get rather tough.  This section of the ride claimed all but three riders last year (we survived, but just had to ride in the van).  Last year's temps were over 100.  By this point today, we were in the 90's. We enter into an other-worldly barren box canyon and begin a 2000 foot ascent that seems to go on forever.  The heat, dry air and the climb really took its toil on me.  When I finished with the climb, it was onto Interstate biking.  I limped into the lunch SAG (mile 67) as the last rider.  I was suffering from a condition known as "hot foot".  Basically, the pressure of biking so much was causing my foot to go numb.  The pedals are pushing so hard on nerves in the foot that it feels like the foot is on fire with each downward stroke.  Taking off my shoes, sitting down and getting some rest did help.  But all too soon, I was back on the road (lunch stops are only about 20 minutes).

Back on interstate, we had a respite with the winds shifting to our rear; we also had some downhill riding as a reward for all of that climbing.  However, all good things come to an end, and the wind turned hitting us from the front and side.  I hit the wall at mile 110 - or thereabouts.  The final SAG was at only at mile 116, but I had dropped to a crawl despite the efforts of Pacific Mike and Dick to pace me in.  The SAG was at an interstate rest stop.  It was off with the shoes and down on the concrete floor with my feet elevated.  Now my legs started cramping.  And even though I was lying flat on the ground, it took me two minutes to get my head on the ground - I was locked into a permanent riders' crouch.  I was a site.

It was only 21 miles to the hotel from that last SAG, but I was in a painful place.  I limped in those last 21 miles on pure determination and at a touring pace - about 12 mph.  9 hours, ten minutes of biking.  That is over nine hours of sitting on a bike and cranking the pedals.  I was covered in salt.  I had lost the feeling in part of my left hand and right foot.  I couldn't stand straight when I walked into the hotel.  It had been the hardest ride of my life, but I made it. 

It is now after midnight and I'm doing my laundry.  One of the perks of a trip like this is that when the day of riding is over, you get to do chores.  Clean water bottles, wash clothes, work on the bike, etc.  While I am so glad I was able to finish today, I fear that I may have put myself into a deficit position.  I never thought lying in bed could be so painful.  I have purposefully omitted discussing the pain in my seat - but let's just say it is a sensitive subject.

On a positive note, the rider who went to the hospital yesterday is back and biking as much as he can daily.  Not sure that he can ride all the way to Savannah, but it is good to have him back.  Unfortunately, another rider went to the hospital last night suffering from severe dehydtration.  He is a very good and tough rider.  I have no doubt we'll see him back. 

The staff and other past riders have assured me that these first seven days are the hardest physically.  The heat, dry air, altitude and long mileage force you into shape.  This time last year, Jane asked me how much fun I was having.  "Nearly some" was my reply.  The staff, other riders and sense of accomplishment make it worthwhile.  Again, the e-mails and comments have been so encouraging.  I said it was determination that got me through those last 21 miles today, but it was really the thought of everyone's support that pushed me on. Thanks.

Day 1 Palm Springs CA (113 miles, 4214 feet)

Ever since I created this blog, I had hoped that Day 1's post would start with the phrase "what a difference a year makes".  Perhaps a more appropriate phrase would be "it's deja vu all over again".  No way you slice it, 113 miles on a bike in a single day is a long way.  And we had 4214 feet of climbing (I know... didn't mean much to me either until I started biking). And temps and winds were far from ideal.  But this is what I signed up for.

The first day activities start off with a ride down to Newport Beach where we dip our wheels in the ocean.  The idea is that we'll do the same thing once we reach Savannah.  Also, one rider is designated to wade out and collect a bottle of Pacific sea water that will be transported (in the van) to the Atlantic. I'm not too much for the ceremony thing and don't like to get sandy.  But I was selected to be the guy to wade out into the ocean.  I argued that it should be Pacific Mike, not Atlantic Mike... but no one cared.  So, today's ride started out sandy and wet.

I somehow managed to sneak off and get a jump on the rest of the riders.  Right after the dip, everyone was hanging around the restrooms, and I muttered something like "I'm going to see... how things are looking... up in Palm Springs".  That didn't last long, however, as at mile 8 the entire group (save one rider) flew past me in a paceline.  I could have jumped on to the end of the paceline, but dammit.... I left the Vespa at the house.

From time to time, I rode with a few riders that had fallen off the paceline.  But mainly, it was a day of solo riding.  I know the pace I need to keep so that I don't kill myself - or at least I think I know.  I shaved 2 hours off my total time from this ride last year.  I was still the last rider at the hotel.  This is really a strong group of riders.  As a side note, I will mention that one rider had to go to the hospital.  We hope he is better and can continue.

Scenery was spectacular.  Temps started in the mid-50's and the beach was shrouded in a fog.  By the time I reached the big climbs, temps were in the high 90's.  We had mild head winds, until we got close to Palm Springs where it turned into a slight tail wind.  We did a bit of interstate riding and it was the worse I've seen.  We're in a very urban environment and traffic was quite heavy for a Sunday.  I like the interstate biking much more once we reach the desolate areas of Arizona.

This day nearly killed me last year.  I feel so much better this year thanks to more training and a better attitude.  I would add that the tremendous support and encouragement from Jane has helped so much... but it was there last year as well.  I just am better positioned to use it now.  And I appreciate all the words of support from family and friends.  It means a lot.  Thanks.

Day 0 Orientation (16 miles)

This is the day when all of the remaing riders arrive, bikes are assembled and inspected, and we have a 3 hour orientation to go over all the rules.  We are currently missing only one rider.  The guy from Denmark is going to have a problem arriving because of the Icelandic volcanic erruption.  The current plan is for him to fly in whenever he can get through, rent a car and catch up with us.

After bike assembly, I took a group of four other riders on a short ride down to the ocean and up the path that we will be taking tomorrow.  The group was Paul (met him yesterday), Brian, Dick and Hawaii Mike.  It must be a rule that we have several Mikes on each ride.  Last year it was English Mike, Bermuda Mike and Team Leader Mike.  This being a Saturday, there were a ton of other casual cyclists out and we kept the pace to a very reasonable level.  Riding with other cyclists on a day like today is just great.

At this afternoon's orientation, I got to meet the rest of the 14 riders.  Team Leader Mike ("TLM") had each person introduce themselves, say where they were from and tell us how many miles they had biked since January.  We have a very, very strong group.  The average amount of miles biked in 2010 was about half the distance to the moon.  I'm going to have a hard time keeping up.  My goal is to try and stay in the same state with everyone else.

Tomorrow the real riding begins.  Stayed tuned.  Let's see if my blog doesn't drop to single sentence posts, like "Rode bike, now sleep".

Day -1 Arrival (26 miles)

Made it to California with no problems.  The hotel sent the courtesy van to pick up me and the bike at the airport.  The driver was a Mexican guy who, by his own admission, was not fluent in English.  Nevertheless, he had seen the American by Bycicle vans at the hotel along with my own bicycle and wanted to know what was going on.  I explained that we would be biking across the country.  The immediate question was "why" followed quickly by "dey pay you?".  I don't know how the phrase "no, I pay them" translates into Spanish, but apparently it is hilarious.

Weather is just a little chilly, but perfectly clear.  Just as I remembered from last year, southern California is such a car culture - no one walks in LA.  I had to run a few errands and grab food; I was the only person on the sidewalks.  Or at least the only person on the sidewalk who had both their front teeth and wasn't talking to themselves.  Ok... not arguing with themselves.  And losing that argument.

I reassembled my bike in the morning and sorted through the various powders, gels and supplements that I had shipped to the hotel.  Something I learned last year was that it was very easy to get dehydrated in this dry weather.  And once you're dehydrated, you lose your appetite.  And if you don't eat, you bonk on the bike.  I noticed that most of the other riders had brought electrolytes (in tablet form), recovery drink powders and quick energy gels.  I tried these products during training and found that they actually make a difference, especially on rides of 2 hours or longer.

 

The staff had already arrived.  Mike, Barbara and Karen were the only staff on last year'side and they are back again this year.  Also with them is a dedicated mechanic, Jim.  Another rider from last year, Jay, arrived during the day.  In the afternoon, I joined Mike, Karen, Jim and Jay for a quick 26 mile ride.  There is a good network of paved bike paths in this area that kept us off the busy streets for most of the ride.

As soon as we finished our ride, I met another rider who had just flown in.  Paul is from Connecticut, and we headed to dinner.  Yet another thing I learned on last year's ride was that the other riders were one of the best parts of the trip.  We had an excellent group of people last year, and it is looking good for this year as well.

Training Ends, Travel Begins

This last month of training has been pretty intense.  Close to 1500 miles in a SINGLE MONTH, including a couple of centuries (100+ mile days).  I know every pothole between Spanish Point and St. David's.  I said at the outset that I would probably get dizzy going around this island so much, and the following picture is a testament to that prediction.  This is a snapshot (via my Garmin GPS device and GoogleEarth) of part of a single day's century ride where I went down the same section of road eight times.  Apparently, I didn't even stay on the road; opting in several instances to cut directly through homes.

My training started to wind down last Friday as it was necessary to give my legs a rest and time to heal before the real trip begins.  Furthermore, I was pretty burnt out biking the same roads over and over again.  My last ride was on Monday and it was only 25 miles long - the shortest training ride since January.  That ride was one I've done more than a hundred times over the years.  Spanish Point to Swizzle Inn to Trinity Church and back.  These past couple of months, I have focused on long, steady rides.  However, with this last ride, I allowed myself to really fly.  It was great to see how much I had actually improved; I shaved eight minutes off my January time.

That last ride was also bittersweet as it was probably the last time I will bike in Bermuda.  We will be moving to Amelia Island, Florida in June, and my bike will not be coming back to the island after the cross-country trip.  While I am currently so tired of biking the same roads, the island and people are beautiful.  I can't tell you how many times I have gotten shouts or waves of encouragement from road crews, pedestrians, taxi drivers and even tourists.   I will especially miss biking in St. Georges and particularly St. Davids where the traffic is lighter and the pace of life is a bit slower.  And now that the cruise ship season has begun again, I remember how much I'm going to miss chasing down the tourists riding scooters.

Apart from feeling much stronger on the bike, I have also lost weight and had a significant drop in my body fat percentage.  You'd probably think that I would have lost a ton of weight after biking all of those miles, but I also ate like a horse.  It is hard to train that much and diet at the same time.  I'm definitely lighter and in much better shape than I was this time last year.

On Tuesday, the bike went to the shop for some last minute adjustments and to be boxed.  I just picked it up.  Tomorrow morning, I fly out to California.