T-35 hours

At this point, I think I'm ready. Or, as ready as I'm going to be...

There are two main philosophies that people use before a big event. Well, perhaps "philosophies" is a bit too grandiose of a word, so I think I'll use the word "approaches" instead.

The first approach is to ignore the impending event and do whatever . From a psychological perspective, this may make a bit of sense, but from a physical perspective, doing a really hard 50 mile ride the day before a really hard century would seem to be an obvious thing to avoid, but I see it all the time.

The second approach is known as "tapering". The goal is to reduce the amount of the training load to allow the body to recover while doing a tiny bit of fine-tuning to reach a finely-tuned edge at precisely the same time. It's a time-proven technique that is used by top professionals all over the world. And it works, but really, you're only training like 7 hours a week, and pretending that you're getting ready for the Giro is a bit over-the-top.

I prefer a policy of benign neglect. Take some time off, let your legs stop aching when you walk up stairs, and do a few short rides to help things along. So, I haven't been on the bike since last Saturday, and I only did about 30 miles then. I plan to go out for an hour tomorrow, and then make sure my bike and gear are ready.

The bad news is that it's raining tonight, raining like it was June in Seattle. Everybody is acting as if this doesn't happen ever single June in the Seattle area, but I am not really looking forward to riding in the rain. I'm thinking that I might put my race blades on my bike, which at least would help keep some of the rain off me. If its wet you can either get wet from the rain or you can wear something to keep the water out, and get wet from the sweat.

The other thing is a little souvenir that I picked up about 46 years ago, a nice case of the chicken pox that revisited this year like a long-lost cousin who shows up when your cool friends are over for dinner. It shows up as Shingles, and I felt a bit under the weather for a couple weeks this spring when I got them, but some rest and expensive meds fixed me up. Two days ago I started getting these weird numb/sensitive places across my torso that feel like I got a bad sunburn the day before. I've decided I'm just going to ignore it until after the ride.

Fundraising has been great - thanks to donations from people I work with, people I ride with, and blog readers, I hit $330 by last Wednesday, so, I put in $335 and Microsoft matched it, netting nice round $1000. Add in a late $100 donation on Friday, and my total is $1300 (as soon as the MS matches make it to the Livestrong folks...)

T-23 hours

I've been playing around with taking some time-lapse pictures from the bike - I mount my Canon Elph 850 IS on the front of the bike, and then use the CHDK firmware add-on to run a script that takes a picture every 3 seconds or so. Then, a bit of software from the Internets, and you end up with a time-lapse movie of the ride. I'm considering doing it for this ride, but I'll need an extra battery and a bag for the camera if it rains.

T-10 hours

All checked-in, and my alarm is set for 4:45 in the morning, so I can get there in time to get our team picture taken. It's not like I'm going to get much sleep tonight anyway, and they say it's the amount of sleep that you got the night before that's important, so I'm happy that I got to bed early. Except I didn't. Drat.

T-some hours

(I'm writing this up home sick with the cold, so I apologize if it is up to my usual standards).

I wake up unhappy. Not just because of the hour, but because the hint of a cold that I felt last night has become a real cold. I eat breakfast, grab my keys and pre-mixed bottles out of the fridge (put the keys in the fridge and you don't show up late because you forgot the bottles), phone and wallet from the cabinet (same reason), and get into the truck. A few drops speckle the windshield when I pull into the gas station, and then it's on to the ATM, where the BoA machine eats my card. I take I-90 across the lake (520 is closed this weekend) and find a place to park a block or so from the Key. I've wearing my yellow Rails to Trails Gore jersey, arm and leg warmers, and my Fatty hat underneath the helmet. My pockets hold 5 snak-pak ziplocs full of accelerade (orange, because Performance Bikes seems unable to keep the far superior mountain berry flavor in stock), a ziploc of endurox for after, plus a couple of slices of good bread, which helps settle my stomach on big rides.

II mount the camera and make sure it's set up. Trying to make movies from the pictures is a work in progress, as testing has mostly generated a few sharp pictures and lots of blurry ones, but at least I'll have some pictures during the ride to keep (that was foreshadowing, in case you didn't catch it...).

I roll past the ex-home of the Sonics, and find my way to the stating point. Since Team Fatty won the team competition, we all got to be in a separate spot in front of the rest of the century riders and right next to the stage. I don't usually do rides that have group starts, and doing something important as part of the ride made it pretty emotional.

We sign the team banner (sorry for the other locations - my guess is there's not going to be much space left for you), stand around, catch a few rays, and then finally we roll out.

About two blocks in, I see Per and Shanna - two ride leaders on the group ride I sometimes lead - next to their tandem that they will be riding as course marshals. We head south following the lead group (or, to be more correct, with the lead group visible in the hazy distance), and immediately miss the first turn, but I use my made belltown skilz and navigate us from 2nd back to 5th without incident.

Yellow light, but we're not stopping. There's a police officer waving us through. Turns out you can get from the Seattle Center to the stadiums pretty darn quickly on a bicycle if you don't have to stop for lights. On the last descent, the lens of my blinky jumps off. That was a point of mention at least 5 times during the ride.

We head up the onramp onto the I-90 express lanes entrance and then head into the Mt. Baker tunnel. All the pavement here and across the bridge was really nice, and there was a lot of whooping and hollering to take advantage of the excellent acoustics.

In this section I get passed by a number of pacelines. If you have great fitness, then that's a great thing to do, but I spend my time spinning along.

We exit off the freeway and onto Mercer Island. The Mercer loops is a really nice ride with a lot of swooping curves that I really like, and only a few steep climbs.

On the first steep climb I pass a guy riding a nice bike with a really low cadence - say 50 RPM or so. If you're doing that on this climb, I think you're the guy who brought a pillow to a knife fight (or, to be more cycling-specific, the guy who brought a 42 tooth chainring and 11-21 cassette for an minimum development of 52.6 gear inches to a hilly century).

We head around Mercer Island, and head south to the next stop at Newcastle beach park. I make a pit stop, remix more accelerade, and look over the food. Grapes, oranges, powerbars, cheesy (or perhaps "cheesish" is a better description) crackers, and peanut butter/jelly sandwiches.

I'm not really feeling very good at this point. I've had a low-grade headache the whole morning, and my legs hurt. I'm going to ride to the next stop, see how I feel, and then see if I need to revise my route choices.

Nothing notable happens on the trip over to tiger mountain. I pass a few people, get passed by a few more people. We have some nice gravel to ride through at some construction, and I think it's bumpy enough that the camera switches off. I leave it off at the stop. The stop features (wait for it) the same food as the last one. I'd really like some variety on the food and particularly would like something salty rather than sweet, though I have been talking my salt tablets and my frequent trips to the porta-potties indicates that my sodium levels are fine. Forgive the details, but as a salty-sweater, it's important to me.

I decide to climb tiger mountain, and see how I feel.

And surprisingly, I get on the climb, and I feel a little better. Not good, but better. I settle into the climb. The pavement is wet on the way up, and on the way down, there are EMTs helping out a rider who fell in one of the corners. The rider appears to be sitting up, which is generally a good sign. It's downhill almost all the way to the next rest stop, which features the usual food. I'm having a hard time staying warm, and I'm debating whether to put my vest back on when it starts to drizzle and settles the question for everybody.

We head out through Issaquah to the second climb, Highlands drive. There's a bike path off to the side of this road that I expected to use, but instead we have a lane to ourselves as we climb up. On the way up, I converse with a course marshal, and we try to decide who is more foolish - me for having paid to do this, or him for having volunteered. The question is unresolved when I ride off ahead. This climb is a step up from Tiger in steepness, but not as long.

Once again, I feel a little better on the climb than the flat. We descend back to East Lake Sammamish and head north on the drying road. I do a small amount of gentle pacelining here with another rider (thanks Sean (or Shawn (or Shaun))), and we end up collecting about 10 people. Just north of Inglewood we get passed by two triathletes (aero bars and seat bottle holders), who move in front and then ride 2MPH slower than we were leading the paceline. Side by side. If I felt better, I might attempt a bit of paceline education, but I just hang back.

5 minutes later, we're at the next stop (which I should have been calling "Power-stops", since they're sponsored by power-bar. I understand that they sponsor the ride and Armstrong, but the classic powerbar is so 1983, and I don't know many people who consider them edible, much less desirable), you have the choice of the usual. I eat a package of cheeseriffic crackers, refill my bottles, switch batteries on the camera, and catch these two fellows taking a break:

The next section is West Lake Sammamish. It's the easiest way to get to the south end of the lake, but once you get into Bellevue, the pavement really, really sucks. So bad that I want to apologize to all the riders that go by. There are better ways with a bit more climbing, but this is the one we're on, so I just let it suck.

With how I feel it's really, really tempting to turn to the west and ride the 1/2 mile to my house, but the whole point of doing this is for the challenge, so I hang in there.

Eventually, we get to the base of the climb. Note the little arrow on the sign, which simply points up, 'cause that's where you're going. This first part is perhaps 10%, but then it flattens out a bit. Then...

you turn the corner and are greeted with this. That run-up section is around 8%, and the section where it kicks up is quite a bit more. Feels like 13-14% to me. I'm doing okay - my heart rate is in the low 140s, just above my lactic threshold, but I feel hungry.

That is bad. Exercise suppresses hunger, and my experience is that if I'm hungry on the bike I'm pretty close to bonking. But nothing to do but keep climbing, and note that my legs really, really hurt.

After the next corner I pass a guy - which takes forever when you're only riding at 5MPH, and then come on this:

The front rider is a kid (10 years old, I'll find out later) riding with his dad. His dad gives him a push now and then, but they make it to the top without stopping. That's some serious chops for that age, and they're doing the 70 mile ride.

Finally, the road turns to the right, and you hit the steepest section. If you are climbing at the limit, your brain isn't getting enough oxygen, and you might see the purple tunnel that Elden has told me about. Or, you might see this:

I thought I heard something about "25 meters to the top", but I think it was probably a hallucination. Not only is there another pitch left, but seriously, who in the US would say "meters"?

I briefly drop below 4MPH at this spot.

We top out the climb, descend 100', and then have to earn it back again up Lakemont. I'm barely holding on, but I ride down the south descent (with a surprising "control speed" sign, not really an issue on this route), do the short climb, and then thankfully see this:

All the stops have had tons of volunteers, and here they clearly don't have enough to do, since the 4 in the foreground are holding up bikes for riders who are taking a break. I politely decline, since I really need to sit down and I don't want to leave somebody standing for 20 minutes while I rest.

I'm having food fatigue from the accelerade, so I get some trail mix, another packet of orange-filled crackers, and sit in the sun, stretch, and talk with other riders.

After a while, I feel much better. I turn the camera off because there's really nothing to see on this section, and because there are reports of thunder.

We head off on the second half of my favorite climb, which takes us all the way to the north side of Kennydale hill. We cross 405, and it starts to drizzle, and the hills to the southwest look really hazy, so I put my vest back on, and put a bag over the camera.

And then it pours. My race blades keep the rain off my butt, but nothing is going to keep my feet dry, and I work my way south, accompanied by a rider wearing a jersey and shorts, a dripping wet jersey and shorts by this time. There's a nice way to get around the Renton airport that has very little traffic and good pavement, but the course takes airport way, so named because most of the drivers attempt to achieve flight by driving really fast. I'd expected that they'd do something to help control traffic, but no, we have to ride the wet road with traffic whizzing by, and then do the same thing when we turn right on Rainier. So far, I've liked their routing, but this was a bad choice. Somewhere in this section there's another stop (mostly for the 45-mile riders), but stopping in the rain isn't my idea of fun.

We work our way northward, on wet roads but no more rain, and work our way up the Seward park climb, a really annoying one because you can't get any useful velocity on the descent, and out onto the closed to traffic Lake Wa Blvd, which is something the city does now and then in the summer. We share the road with pretty much all levels of cyclists, from race teams to 3-year olds on trikes. I feel a little bit better on this section, as there's not much of the ride left. I turn the camera back on.

A chance self-portait from the last PowerStop (tm), where I dump the rest of my accelerade and refill that bottle with Endurox for after. I've learned that many rides don't think to provide water at the end, so I'm planning ahead. Plus, I can't stomach the stuff any more, but I do eat another packet of radioactive orange pseudo-cheese crackers.

And it's on the road again...

At this point, the ride needs to route us up and over the hill to get back into downtown. The Cascade spawning cycle has a nice one that hooks around the northern part of the hill, and there are a few other ways to go. We head south, and here's what we see:

That's not one of the nice ways up, and the two riders in front of me have some coarse words for the organizers. We climb up that one, climb up another pitch, top out, and see this:

This little bit of Yesler is not on Seattle's list of top 20 steepest streets, but one of the nearby ones is 19%, and I'd bet that this half-block is in that range. I'm standing in my low-low gear, and I barely make it up.

I don't understand the point in this. Sure, it's short enough that you can walk it if you need to, but I don't see why you'd want to set people up for failure so close to the end of the ride.

We head west on Yesler, do some swoops and stop at a bunch of lights, and end up on a really steep descent south of the courthouse (another surprise), and then it's riding to the south on 3rd avenue through Sunday traffic. There's another turn in here that I miss along with 3 other riders (surprised that there are no volunteers in sight, since there have been so many at the easy turns), but we get back on track, and finally we're done:

I drop my bike at the bike check, and head inside to get some food. They have pizza, burgers, salad, drinks and ice cream, all free for the riders. I sit with a few other Fatties and talk for a while.

Stats:

• 102 miles
• 6:55:17 (pretty slow, but given my sickness and the difficulty of the ride, it's okay)
• 14.8 MPH
• 4905 feet of climbing, according to my Polar (bigger than the 3900' advertised, but I think it's pretty accurate, and I'm sticking to that measure because it makes me feel better.
• 4606 calories burned (probably only 4000, as my polar is a bit optimistic).
• 52321 Heartbeats

Considering being sick and not eating enough, I think I did okay. The organization was pretty good overall, and I loved the closed streets and after-rider food (delta the coffee-flavored ice cream).

Suggestions:

• Better variety in food at the stops.
• Bike racks at the stops. They had barricades rather than racks, which just don't hold enough bikes to be useful. Call up cascade and see if you can borrow the ones they use.
• Re-route the last 5 miles. Seriously. Neither the climb up Yesler or the descent down are good choices. If you don't like the north route, you can easily come back through the I-90 bike tunnel.

There are a few more pictures that didn't make it to the write-up here.

[Update - I added an improved description of Montreux based on a ride I did today, and added some new options if you don't want to do that climb.]

Since the bulk of the course - at least the century course - is right in my backyard, I thought I'd share my thoughts on what you're in for. I've linked to climb descriptions from my BicycleClimbs.com site. Note that while the average gradients are pretty close, the maximum ones are a bit speculative.

But first, an introduction. I'm Eric Gunnerson (aka "Lo-Phat").

I know Fatty from when he lived in this area and worked for a large software company. Back in 2005, we teamed up for "The Double-e half-hour of pain". Fatty had - in his usual "mature" way - trash talked about how he was going to be the first to the top of the hill. I had little chance of beating him (I'm light for my size, but I *am* 6'2"), so I took the mature way out, and offered $20 to the first person up the hill that beat Elden. And then he complained about it, and called me "evil".

Where were we? Something about a ride, right?

70 and 100 mile Routes

Before I start with the description, I'd like to note that these are nicely designed rides. I would describe them as "pretty hilly".

The ride starts at the Seattle Center, and spends a couple of miles winding through downtown towards the two stadiums, at that point, you reach the first hill - the climb up on the I-90 express lanes. I've never ridden it, but it looks like it's about 150' in height, and my recollection is that the first little bit is fairly steep.

Once you get on that, you wind east, go through the I-90 tunnel, and then down onto the I-90 floating bridge, and then up at the other end. At the island you climb up 75 feet or so to the exit.

The next 10 miles takes you around the south end of Mercer Island, a really nice section. It's fairly flat/rolling, with great pavement, not much traffic, and wonderful curves. You will like this session. Halfway into this section (at 14.7 miles) there's a stop.

Next, you cross the east channel bridge on a bike path. This is a pretty popular route and there isn't that much room, so watch for other cyclists or runners coming the other direction.

Off the bridge, the next 4 miles loops north and then back south. A few small (75' or so) climbs. After you head south under I-90 (which should be obvious), you'll come to a bike path entrance. There are some blind curves and rude riders here, so be careful. A bit of up and down takes us to Newcastle Beach Park (sorry about the descent from the trail, and yes, you do have to climb the 75' of steepness back after the break). That takes us to 24.1 miles, and stop #2.

The next 2 miles climb up about 300', and then a nice 10-mile section of rollers but no major climbs.  That takes us to around 36 miles total.

At this point, the century route makes a loop of about 9.5 miles, with about 680' of climbing on it. The major part of it is the Tiger Mountain Climb, which averages about 4.5% and peaks at perhaps 8-9%. Oh, and stop #3 is early in this loop, but only for century riders.

Then it's back on a flat road into Issaquah, and stop #4. Once there, the 70 mile route diverts to the Northwest, on a fairly flat section. You'll rejoin us at the base of your next major hill. As you ride, look to the left to see Zoo Hill, one of the local benchmarks for stupidity. Be happy you are heading straight.

The century heads a bit east, to take on the next hill at the 50 mile point, Highland Drive. This climb has an maximum gradient of ouch (over 10%), and long sections of 8-9%. It's about 350' up, and you are going to notice the whole thing.

You may have noticed a progression in maximum gradients. It's going to continue. But first, we're going to take a steep descent that drops us onto East Lake Sammamish Drive. The first mile or so is a busy 4-lane road. You will want to stay right, but the pavement is more than a bit sucky there, so watch yourself.

After that, it's one lane each way with a decent shoulder for about 9 miles. There is one 150' climb and several rollers along the way. There has also been some construction at Inglewood road about halfway along this stretch, and I expect that it will still be there, so expect some delay from this. This section is a good section to paceline on, and my goal will be to be around 18-20MPH in a group for this section. That takes us to Marymoor park at 61.5 miles, and stop #5.

We are now on West Lake Sammamish Drive. It will be nice for a couple of miles, then the shoulder will get rough, with lots of holes and a nice ridge between the shoulder and the pavement. Don't plan on making too much time here. There is no bike lane on the lake side of the road, so it's legal for bikes to ride the opposite way on this section, and you need to pay attention. Along the way are some rollers and a 100' hill. Did I mention the road is junk?

Eventually, you'll hit the lowest point, at Vasa Park (big red barn on the right side). Put your climbing shoes on here. We start with a 160' climb as a preamble, and rejoin the 70-mile route at this point.

At this point, after 71.5 miles (43.2 for the 70s), we arrive at a little bit of joy I like to call Montreaux, because that's its name. Livestrong calls this NW Village Park Drive, but it's hard to ignore the giant sign for the development, and the ostentatious water feature. The water will help drown out the labored breathing of the other riders on the course.

Montreux is, to put it simply, a beast. If you have a climbing cassette for your bike, bring it. If you have a small electric assist-motor, bring it. If you have a supply of EPO, use it. If you are like me, you will be spending about 20 minutes of time on this hill. On the upside, the pavement is excellent, and there's also a view, if you have the oxygen to turn around and see it.

Right from the start, it's at about 10% for the first little bit, then it will turn a bit to the left and ease down to around 7%. Then it will kick up to about 14% for a bit, taper down to 10%, up to 14%, and then there's a nice section that's even steeper. I was climbing at about 3.9 MPH on that section.

I really recommend finding time to pre-ride this hill, so that you know what you're in for.

After the top, we're going to lose 100 feet and then have to gain it right back, up to 850', the same as the height we hit on Tiger Mountain.

And,we're in for some fun. We worked hard to get up that high, and over the next 5 miles we're going to lose 800' of it, on a glorious descent, my favorite in the area. There are some flats and some short climbs, but if you have the legs, this is a good spot to spend a bit of them, as you can keep your speed up and we can all laugh at your folly on the last climb before the finish. After the first 3.8 miles, we end up at stop #6, at 78.5 miles (49.5 on the 70).

After a short 50' climb and a really fun down/up hill, we have another 400' of descending, taking us down into Renton and to the shores of Lake Washington. 3 miles of mostly flat road take us into Renton, to stop #7, at 84.7 miles (55.7 on the 70).

The next 4 miles are flat flat on decent road (make sure you make the right turn onto Seward Park Avenue), then a 160' climb towards Seward park, only to lose it on a quick descent back towards the water, unfortunately with a stop sign at the bottom.

Then it's onto Lake Wa Blvd South. If you have a group, you can paceline here. As we near I-90, we climb back up the hill (100' or so) to stop #8, at 94.7 miles (65.7 on the 70).

Then, it's up and over the hill (another 200' of climbing), down Yesler into downtown, and then a short spin back to Seattle Center.

Emergency Wimp Option

So, you've been going along fine on the ride, feeling great, but you realize that the only way you and your bike are making it up Montreaux is in the back of a pickup. But you don't want to give up.

So, here's how you "get lost" to make it a bit easier. Instead of heading up Montreaux, you head west on Newport, straight at Lakemont, and then turn left on the stop sign at 164th. Climb to the top, turn right, and you're right where you would normally be, with a lot easier climb. Not sure how I got lost, but I did manage to get back on course.

Super-Emergency Extra Wimpy Option

Your legs are toasted and your best hope seems to be to ride straight into the lake and hope for a freak shark attack. Not much chance of that, since Lake Sam is fresh water, but there is a way to salvage some pride.

1. Head west on Newport.
2. Straight at Lakemont
3. Straight at the 164th stop sign.
4. Right on 153rd (there's a bike route sign here)
5. Down the little hill
6. Left when road ends (SE 38th)
7. Straight at the light (150th)
8. All the way to the bottom of the hill.
9. Get in the rightmost left-turn lane.
10. As you turn left, get on the left sidewalk of the exit ramp coming straight towards you (diagram).
11. This puts you on a bicycle path.
12. When the path ends, turn left.
13. This puts you back on Lake Washington Blvd, where you were just after Mercer Island. You can now follow the 40 mile signs for the rest of the ride.
14. Wow, did you ever get lost.

On memorial day, for the nth year in a row (where n > 4 or so) I spend a morning riding the annual 7 Hills of Kirkland ride. Except that it, was 7 hills, it was 11 hills, the metric century version. Except it isn't quite a metric century, being 4 miles or so short of that distance. And the hills - only two of them are really in Kirkland.

So, anyway, I spent the morning riding in the 11 Hills within easy riding distance of Kirkland almost metric century (tm).

In the pro cycling world, when somebody has spent the fourth quarter of the year glued to the bench in the local gasthaus in a pursuit of the perfect combination of beer and bratwurst, when spring rolls around his fitness is said to be, to use the technical term, "questionable".

Though I do enjoy a nice Hefe now and then, my capacity for beer these days is usually described as "cheap date" and I can only eat a brat now and then, the weather this spring hasn't been very good, so I haven't gotten much training in. I *have* played soccer now and then, but the prospect of a hard century in June has weighed heavy on my mind.

I wanted to ramp up my training again, so I scheduled a 45 mile hilly ride. I got east in the carnation valley, felt okay, and then absolutely died on the ride back. Hydration was fine, nutrition was fine, sodium was fine, just had zero energy. Dragged myself back home.

Found out a week later that I had shingles (a really weird disease), spent two weeks on Valtrex and not training hard, and had only one decent ride before 7 hills (aka "11HwerdoKamc"), a full 30 miler.

I had a fair number of friends (1 fair is 4 big friends or 5 to 6 small ones) who were also riding in the 11 hills within... well, in "the event", and were planning on meeting up to ride together.

But not for me. I prefer to ride alone on these sorts of rides, for reasons that I would share with you, except for the fact that it would make a really good post on its own.

So, I said hi to my friends waiting for others to show up, and started off. Market (hill #1) was quickly dispatched, as was Juanita (hill #2, the easy way up from the south), then it was a nice descent to the first big hill.

Seminary hill (#3) is so named because of the proximity of a seminary, which I'm pretty sure isn't there any more so it is more proper to refer to it as "alternative/complementary medical training school hill". This hill is an ugly roller and always has one more turn than you think it should, but I dropped down to low low (30/26, with my triple up front and 12-26 climbing cassette), and rode up behind a tandem. A few people come by, but I'm expecting that. We crest at the top, and I stop to take off my hat and put on a sweatband.

A quick descent and a mile or so on the newly-paved section of the Burke, and we're off to climb Norway (#4), a hill I climb a lot. On the 400' or so, I pass 10 or so people and get passed by 5 or so. Norway has a really nice view at the top. We descend to the south, and work our way to hill #5.

Hill #5 is named "kingsgate". It does have a climb a fair bit, but rather than being a real hill, it's more of a "I'm over here and this is the only way to get over there" route. I get passed at the top by Francis and Alan, which is a good sign, since I expected them to pass me on hill #3, not hill #5.

This takes us to the first rest stop, where I remix a new bottle of accelerade, take a salt tablet, and eat half a bagel with some peanut butter.

Then it's a short ride back northwest (where I pass a clot of 25 riders or so leaving a light), a glorious descent down brickyard (which looks tighter than it is), and then a traverse back to the south into a headwind, where we reach the base of hill #6, Winery.

Winery is a steep climb that nobody takes because there's little shoulder and it's busy, so the one that everybody takes is a route through a development that is rolling (aka steep and steeper). Something in the 14-15% range at its worst. Surprisingly, the group that is behind me stays behind me, and my pass to passed ratio is about 15/1 on the climb. At the top, we are greeted by bagpipe music, which is a sign that the hardest part of the ride is over.

From there it's back to the rest stop (which I skip), down a steep hill over the tracks and then down into the Redmond valley. The 7 hills riders will head south and grab one more climb before the finish, but for the rest of us, we head east.

I get onto 116th across the valley, and then remember that, if I had been smarter, I would have gone across 124th instead, since this way I traded a nice gradual climb for a short *** of a climb, over 15% to my legs. After that bit we head up Education hill (#7) - where everything returns to normal and I get passed by a 5 fair numbers of riders, then we head down the lovely 35 MPH descent to a traffic light on avondale. Then it's off to climb Novelty Hill (#8), where the Novelty quickly wears off, and it's just a long climb (475') with lots of traffic and a mostly decent shoulder. I do start talking with a guy named Matt, though about 75% of the conversation is lost due to traffic noise. We finish the climb, loop back around, and descend down Novelty, then take a hard right to hill #9, McWhirter.

I had to go back and look at the ride description, since I've never heard anybody use that name before. My personal name is "that hill that ends up right near where my daughter takes horseback lessons", but I guess McWhirter is a better name than that. It's only 175' high and easy, probably the easiest of the hills on the ride.  We finish that, descend a bit, and then we hit the base of hill #10...

Education hill. Or, "re-education hill", since we're doing it the opposite direction, though thankfully they don't send us back up 116th where we came down (I wonder very much at the sanity of our local road department since they put a bike lane up a 20% grade that people only ride on a dare, but whatever), but up the next road down. We climb that, and come to the second food stop, where I refill my bottles again, take another salt pill, and eat half of a turkey and cheese sandwich.

This is a wonderful place in the ride - I feel good, and there's only one hill left. Matt and I head down into the valley, turn south to rejoin the 7 hills route, ride up the hill at the end of Willows (not a hill since it's not numbered, though frankly it's harder than McWhirter), turn down, and hit the base of Old Redmond Road (Rose hill), hill #11. I still have legs, so we ride to the top, and then it's down on a descent on 116th, down another descent on Northup, and then a nice spin back on Lake Washington Boulevard back into Kirkland.

I ride 7 hills every year because I love the finish - you have 5 miles without much work at all with two very nice descents.

And then I hook up with a fair number of people from my riding group, and refuel with mexican food.

And suddenly, LiveStrong looks possible. It was a very good day...

I'm going to be riding the Livestrong challenge in June, and I'm looking for sponsors.

You can find more information here...

I got tagged on Facebook with the 25 things meme, and I thought I'd duplicate my answers here for the... well, "edification" doesn't quite work.

Enlightenment... No.
Entertainment...No.
Education...No.

Well, anyway, here it is. It's on this blog because that seemed the best place for it.

1. I have a inability to be brief when I write. There's a natural length for everything, and I don't want to edit it down. That's why this is so long, and I don't want to admit how long it took to write.
   
2. I have a bit of notoriety in the local cycling community because of my creation of bicycleclimbs.com, an important resource for the cycling insane. No, I haven't climbed them all, but I have climbed the worst of them, some of them many times. Despite a considerable amount of research, no cure has been found for this affliction.
   
3. The first album I owned was "Permanent Waves". Well, I didn't actually own it... I had a friend by the name of Pam Purvis who had a tape deck in her car but didn't have a turntable. She bought the album and brought it over, I bought two tapes (TDK SA90s), and then she ended up with a tape, and I ended up with the album and the tape.
   
   <note>
   If you're younger than, say, me, I need to explain a bit. In the old days, you could buy an album on vinyl, or you could buy it on cassette tape. Or, on 8-track, but you had to have a nice set of boots before they'd let you buy one of those. Albums were great, except that you needed a decent turntable, had to follow an elaborate cleaning ritual, and you had to keep the volume turned down or the needle would skip, gouging a permanent wound in the vinyl.
   
   You could buy a pre-recorded cassettes and skip all this, except the sound was junk and because they were cheap, the tape jammed, and you ended up with a whole mess of tape sticking out of your tape deck and $9 in the hole.
   </note>
   
   So, there Pam and I were, sitting on my bed, listening to Rush. All alone in the house.
   
   It may be hard to believe now, but like a lot of guys, I had no clue at all whether girls were interested in me in high school, and this was no exception. I'm not sure what I should believe. I could be believe that I missed a chance, or I could believe that Pam was just a good friend.
   
   But at least I ended up with some decent music, and Pam and I kept up that particular connection for a few years.
   
4. I have a super power. I don't like to talk too much about it, 'cause people get jealous, but you forced it out of me.
   
   The human brain is an amazing thing. Some people can do square roots in their head. Some people can recite PI to a thousand places. Others know all the presidents.
   
   My super power is remembering song lyrics. Not songs that I listen to, songs that I like. Songs that I would rather forget.
   
   Well, it's not too far to paradise
   At least it's not for me
   But if the wind is right we can find a way
   To find serenity
   Oh the canvas can do miracles
   Just you wait and see
   Believe me
   
   Yes, it's Christopher Cross, "Sailing", from his album of the same name, which I haven't heard since the spring of 1982. The lyrics may not be absolutely right, but they're pretty close.
   
   I knew I should have chosen "flying" or "invisibility"...
   
5. I've never been a boy scout - I just didn't see the point of doing it, and in my school being a scout was 5 of the 10 things you didn't do.
   
   However, my sisters were campfire girls back when we lived in Auburn, and I was in kindergarten, and my mom was involved, so I went to day camp with them...
   
   That's right, I was a campfire girl...
   
6. Back when I was in high school, my mom introduced me to Jane Austen's Pride & Prejudice, and I've read the book quite a few times, and seen most of the adaptations of it. The Colin Firth one is the best.
   
7. In high school and college, I drove a chocolate-brown Citroen DS19 Safari.
   
    
   It would be fair to say that I inherited it from my father, though with the amount of maintenance I ended up doing the first few years I owned it (new clutch, new spheres, new hydraulic pump, rebuilt rear brakes, pulled the head and had it shaved after an unfortunate overheating incident, etc.
   
   "Spheres, what are those?"
   
   Well, some Citroens use this cool hydropneumatic suspension, which gives you ride height adjustment, a great ride, sensitive power steering, and is all driven off of a 2000psi hydraulic system. Oh, and front-wheel drive.
   
   All that in 1960, when Detroit was still obsessed with tail fins.
   
   I drove the car until one day in 1986 when I was driving on the freeway and the car made a really exciting noise for 30 seconds, then no noise at all. And I found out that it was possible to embed an exhaust valve in the middle of a piston.
   
8. Back in the summer of 1978 I was at my neighbor Tracy's house, and she put on a new tape that she had just gotten.
   
   I live my life like there's no tomorrow
   All I've got I had to steal
   Least I don't need to beg or borrow
   Yes I'm livin' at the pace that kills
   
   Running with the devil...
   
   That was pretty radical stuff for somebody who had only ever listened to his sister's music - Chicago, Carole King, maybe a little Grand Funk Railroad.
   
   Now, 30 years later, that's still a great album...
   
9. Person I wish I'd met:
   
   Richard Feynman
   
   Not just because he's all sciency and stuff, but because he's an iconoclast. Or he was.
   
   I sometimes wish I was more of an iconoclast, but I don't have the right shoes, nor do I know where to purchase them.
   
10. When I was in high school, I worked in the Everett Public Library as a "page", which meant that I knew how to shelve books alphabetically *and* numerically. It's an easy job, most of the people you work for are pretty nice, and for somebody who likes to read the way I do, the access to a ton of books was great.
    
    The library at that time had been built over decades. It had lots of weird passages, and the archives in the basement were very old.
    
    Being alone in the basement of a library at night is pretty creepy.
    
11. I was a shy kid. Or, perhaps, just an overly-sheltered kid, as the youngest of the kids and the only boy. When I got out of college and started working - at the mighty Boeing Computer Services - I decided that I wanted to do something about it.
    
    Boeing had a very active Toastmaster's group, but I'm not really a joiner and that seemed pretty contrived, so I put it off (okay, perhaps I just wasn't sure I wanted to do it). Then one day I took a Motorcycle Safety Foundation course from a guy that I worked with, and a week later he suggested that I should become an instructor. It sounded like a cool thing to do - help people to ride better, and spend some time in front of people.
    
    It was a really hard 10 days, but later that summer I was an officially certified instructor, and that meant that I had to stand up in front of a group of adults that I didn't know, and try to teach and establish some sort of rapport with the students, some of which are a bit... well, perhaps, "set in their ways" is a nice thing to say.
    
    I found that I liked the challenge - both the challenge of teaching, and the challenge of being up in front of people.
    
    Years passed, I ended up at Microsoft on the C# team, and we needed somebody to do talks about C#, both to Microsoft people and to selected external customers. I did a talk, then another, then another. In one quarter, I did 30 talks.
    
    Well, that's not quite true - I did the same talk 30 times. Since then, I've done talks big and small, from groups of two people, all the way up to around 500.
    
    And found that I really liked them, and can be a bit of a ham. Or a large spiral-cut honey-baked ham, in some cases. Now, I volunteer to stand up in front of groups and talk.
    
    Weird. Really weird.
    
12. I've seen a skeleton. Back in high school, I had a good friend, Dave, who I sometimes went hiking with. We went on a day hike up nearby Mt. Pilchuk, chosen because you can drive halfway up the mountain to start (my reason, not Dave's...). We had a really nice hike up to the summit - really more of a walk than a hike - and the came glissading down the snowfield (kind of like skiing without skis). We got a little out of the way on the way back, and that's when we came across it.
    
    The skeleton of one of the ski lifts from the old ski resort.
    
    What? Were you thinking of something else?
    
13. I commuted by motorcycle year round for about a decade, in all sorts of weather. Now I live so close to work it doesn't make sense, so now I'm a cyclist and cager instead.
    
14. I started reading science fiction when I was 8 or 9, and I ran out of decent kids books to read. I read my way from Asimov to Zelasny (okay, it should be "Anthony", but he's less known and I've read more Asimov). I still read the stuff these days, so there's a lot less hard science fiction out there.
    
15. Back about 300 years ago, when I was a freshman in high school, I had speech class, and part of that involved making a presentation to the class. I taught one of my friends - I think her name was Sally - to juggle, or at least the first parts of learning to juggle.
    
    That day, my good friend Peter gave a talk about how to make smoked fish, and then passed samples around for us to try.
    
    Later that day, I had soccer practice. I felt crappy before, but my coach asked me to try anyway. I lasted about 30 minutes, headed back to the locker room, and then walked into downtown Everett to wait for the city bus to get home.
    
    I was standing there waiting for the bus, and I suddenly found myself lying on the ground. That's weird, I thought. I got up again.
    
    Next thing I know, I was lying on the ground looking up with two paramedics at me.
    
    After a trip to the Doctor's office - which I promptly redecorated in the worst way, I spend a week at home on downers (barbs, goof balls, pink ladies...), recovering from food poisoning. And I was the only one who at the fish who was lucky enough to get sick.
    
16. I love writing comedy. I hate writing comedy.
    
    I've written enough that writing technical stuff is merely a matter of following a straight line from here to there. Write a, b, c, polish it up once, and you're done. You can spend a lot more time on it, but it's probably not going to get a lot better, and frankly, it's not worth the effort.
    
    Comedy is different. It's hard.
    
    My technique - to the extent I have a technique - is one of progressive refinement. I start with something that is vaguely interesting, and then work for ways to make it better. Sometimes this is a quick process, sometimes it's agonizing, but eventually I get to one of three end points. Sometimes - if I can get in the right state of mind - it's pretty good. Sometimes, an idea just doesn't go anywhere, so I have to abandon it out on the tundra and let nature take its course. Either of those are pretty good results.
    
    The worst one is when it's in between, something that I call "humorish" - having all the characteristics of humor without actually being funny. Not only is that hard to figure out ("I can't define what humor is, but I know that when somebody trips over an ottoman, it makes me laugh"), you have a lot invested in it and you don't want to abandon it.
    
17. One summer in high school, I spent some time in a band. We played at a few small things, made some money, but it never really went anywhere. I'm still happy that I did it. In my mind. In reality, I was a Teamster working at Safeway as a courtesy clerk.
    
18. My oldest sister was in swim team. My older sister was in swim team. And, when the time came, I was in swim team.  One day, we were practicing swimming under water (ie holding our breath), and I swam across and back a 6-lane pool, twice, without surfacing. And then did it again to prove to my coach that I could.
    
    That was my sole triumph in two years of swim team.
    
19. When I was about 7, I got a Radio Shack 10-in-1 kit. This kit consisted of a number of electronic components with spring connectors at each lead, a bunch of wires to connect things together, and an instruction book. You hooked 15 to 25, 12 to 24, 44 to 55, and you'd press a button and a light would light up.
    
    As time went by, and I moved up to the 20-in-1 kit, 40-in-1, and ultimately the 50-in-1 kit. I yearned for the 100-in-1 kit, but, alas, never got it.
    
    For a while I was going to be a electrical engineer. Then I got introduced to computers in my freshman year of high school, and it was all over. Software was far easier to build that electrical hardware, and it obeyed simple rules, rather than electronics component, which have very simple models and 400,000,000 complications and exceptions that you need to keep in mind to make things really work.
    
    A few years ago a friend of mine got me back into electronics by introducing me to microcontrollers, where you write software to accomplish what you want and don't need a lot of hardware.
    
    I'm still very much hacker whenever I need to do hardware. I know how to get basic things done and a few of the rules, but I'm pretty hopeless at any complex design.
    
20. I like fireworks. When I was a kid in Everett, some of my friends were able to go to the res to buy the more sophisticated (ie "explosive") fireworks, but we were stuck with the "safe and sane".
    
    So, we'd buy "Whistling Petes", and crimp them. If you crimped them at the bottom, they would whistle for a while and then blow up. Or, you could just crimp the whole thing. Many a model succumbed to the might of Pete.
    
    One year, I was over at my friend Todd's house, and he had some "safe and sane" fireworks that we wanted to do something with. We made a maxi-smoke-bomb by opening up a bunch of smoke crackers (like firecrackers, but 100% quieter, 50% smokier, and 98% less fun) and crushing some smoke bombs. These went into an old metal film canister with a heavy fuse out the top.
    
    The first one produced a tremendous amount of smoke, covering his his whole front yard. The second one smoked for about 5 seconds and then exploded. About 10 seconds later we heard a ping as the top to the film canister landed in the driveway.
    
    I guess the model rocket stuff I do is a little bit like fireworks, in that you still get to smell black powder, and it's certainly safer, but not nearly as much fun. I do have a high-powered rocket that's about 4 feet long and 4" around named Spot, but there are no longer any launch places near Seattle and I haven't traveled to any launches yet, so spot had a maiden flight and then just gets to hang around in the closet.
    
    I don't buy illegal fireworks simply because I don't want the temptation.
    
21. I learned to program about when Steve and Steve were working on the Apple 1, so there weren't any personal computers. I missed punch cards by a year at my high school, and, thanks to a math teacher who was ahead of his time by at least 10 years, learned to program on a multi-user alpha microsystems. When I was there, it had 192KB of memory, 4 400KB 8" diskettes, a Z80 running at a few megahertz, 6 ADM3a terminals, and 2 DECWriter terminal/printers.
    
    Pretty heady stuff for the spring of 1979.
    
22. People sometimes ask me what my secret is for writing interesting talks. Well, they don't, but I wish they would.
    
    It's pretty simple. I figure out what the jokes are first, and then write the talk around them. Way better than trying to do it the other way around.
    
23. I learned to play pinball when I was about 10 years old, and have been playing ever since. About 8 years ago, I found that you could buy pinball machines on Ebay, and I bought a mid-80s pin named Bad Cats. Which lived in our basement for a while. About 3 years ago, it got exiled up to our ski cabin when I bought a fully shopped (ie restored) Twilight Zone, one of the best pins that Williams ever made, as a present for myself for a reason that escapes me. It's a great game - lots of modes, *6* ball multiball, and great design. The only disadvantage is that pins are loud even with the sound turned down, so you can't really play it while other people watch TV.
    
    A couple of years ago, a friend of mine gave me an early 70s Meteor. That joined Bad Cats up at the cabin, and, after a bunch of well-deserved maintenance, is enjoying a nice retirement.
    
    I think 3 machines officially moves me from "enthusiast" to "collector"...
    
24. If people ask me what I'm like, the term that always comes to mind is "generalist". Okay, the term that really comes to mind is "gentleman scientist" or "renaissance man", but that's a bit too pretentious to say out loud.
    
    I have a pretty eclectic knowledge base. I know a bit about a whole lotta things, and have fairly deep understanding of a wide range of subjects. Household wiring. Woodworking. Carpentry. Aerobic training. The history of science. Astronomy. 1980s music. etc.
    
25. I get bored easily.
    
    I have friends who ride their bikes 5 days a week for the whole summer, friends who ski 90 days a year, friends who travel the country to launch rockets, friends who take photos every day.
    
    I like to do all of those things, but generally by the time I get to the second day of an activity, I'm looking around for something different to do. I'm not sure what it says about my perseverance, but I do think it's means that I'm less likely to get addicted to anything.
    
    With one notable exception. There's one thing that I've been addicted to since about 1980, but I think that she's an exception to the rule...
    
    
    

My good friend Chris wrote a nice post about nutrition - one which I am very much in agreement with, and I thought I'd use it as a jumping-off-point to put down some thoughts I've had for a while.

One of the problems in talking about this stuff is that there's a paradox in how you eat as an athlete. Sometimes you should eat really well, and other times you should do the opposite. But I had a thought recently.

It all revolves around blood sugar. The whole goal of performance diets is to keep a constant blood sugar level, but the way you do it depends on the circumstances.

It starts with your base diet - what you eat normally. You want to keep your blood sugar constant, which means avoiding the things that will cause your blood sugar to move quickly. Which means refined sugar, flour, rice, etc. - anything that has a high glycemic index.

If you eat it, your blood sugar goes up really fast, your body releases insulin, and the sugar gets converted to fat and stored. And your blood sugar drops, and you get hungry again. Which is what is behind the "chinese food" syndrome, where you eat a meal with lots of white rice, and then get hungry again a few hours later.

It's not quite that simple, however. It turns out that the absorption of carbs - and therefore their effect on blood sugar - is moderated by the presence of other foods. If you have fat, protein, or fiber, it will slow down the spike in blood sugar.

So, to keep your blood sugar constant and your hunger in check, you want to have some fat, some protein, some fiber, and any carbs of the less-refined variety. If I had to pick a popular diet that's close to this, I'd pick something like South Beach.

That will moderate blood sugar normally, but it doesn't work when we are exercising. During exercise, we are burning carbs in conjunction with fat, and over time - if we exercise long enough - we will totally run out of carbs, leading to the dreaded "bonk". Even if we don't totally run out of carbs, we will end up with very depleted carb reserves. Which means, at the end of the ride you'll be very hungry, and likely to overeat, or at the very least, not eat very well.

You also may not be able to fill up those carb reserves in time for your next workout.

So, we need a way to keep your blood sugar up during the workout. If you can do that, not only will your carb reserves last longer, but you will be less hungry at the end of the workout.

And how can we do that? Well, we could eat more of our normal healthy diet, but that has a few problems. It's fairly hard to digest, and you probably don't have enough blood supply to spare from your muscles to send to your stomach to digest. It's also pretty bulky, and you don't really need any extra fat during exercise - there's plenty in your fat stores.

So, we need something that's easily digested, and will support our blood sugar. That's exactly the simple, refined carbs that we are avoiding in our normal diet. We don't get an insulin response because we are burning enough carbs that we aren't going to spike the blood sugar.

And finally, when we're done exercising, we haven't quite refilled our carb stores, so we can take in some extra simple carbs and protein, and that will let us refill those carb stores.

How does this work if we are trying to lose weight? We might burn 1500 calories on that 3 hour ride, but if we are taking in 250 cal/hour of carbs, we'll only net a 750 calorie debt. So, if we don't eat at all, we'll lose more weight.

But remember the blood sugar thing. Sure, we'll have a 1500 calorie deficit at the end of the workout, but we'll have to work hard to not to eat more than that when we're done. Or, we can burn 750 calories of fat, replace the carbs, and - because we've kept the blood sugar constant - not replace the fat.

For 2007, my cycling was very unplanned, but I think I'm going to try to be a bit more structured this year.  Here are my plans:

RAMROD, July 30th
154 miles, 10K elevation

The problem with RAMROD is that you need to join the lottery to try to get in, so you need to sign up for it even if you aren't sure that you want to do it. I have a long-term goal to do this - not the 3/4 RAMROD that I did in 2007, and perhaps the stars will align here, and I'll get in and be healthy.

STP 1-day, July 11th
206 miles, 2K elevation?

I want to do this again because I don't want my only STP memory to be the horrible time I had in 2006, but it's really kind of a sucky ride. Too many inexperienced people, too crowded, not very pretty, and a very long day. If I get into RAMROD, I'll skip this...

Livestrong Challenge Seattle, June 21th

I'm going to ride this as part of Team Fatty, to raise funds for cancer research. The distance I ride will depend on how I feel and what route they choose.

Chelan Man Olympic Triathlon, July 18th
1500 meter swim/40K bike/10K run

I enjoyed the spring triathlons, but they short efforts that they require really don't fit in well with the longer-distance cycling training that I do. My training sets me up for 4-5 hour events, not 1 hour events. This event should be closer to that length, but still be short enough that I don't have to spend too much time training (I'm hoping that playing soccer now and then will be sufficient for the 10k run, so I'll mostly have to do the swim part

Other possible rides:

• 7/11/14 hills of Kirkland
• Summits of Bothel
• Mountain populaire
• Something else.

A few weeks ago, I got recruited by one of my friends as a "Climbing ringer". He was taking a group of friends up Zoo hill engaging in an elaborate hazing ritual, and he wanted me to come along because "these guys think I'm a good climber". Given my distinct lack of form this year, I wasn't so sure about that, but decided to do it anyway.

So, I showed up at 8:30 AM on Saturday to climb "The Zoo" (so named because of the small zoo on the lower slopes of the climb). I was pretty well warmed up.

I gave my usual introduction at the bottom - "The climb breaks into three sections. The bottom section is very steep, and don't ride the inside of the hairpin because it's like 20%. The middle section is the hardest, and then when you turn left that's when it gets tough."

It sounds a bit like a joke but it isn't, especially if you've never done this kind of climb before.

At the bottom my friend (who I'll call Brett because that may be his real name) started us off - I waited for the group to get going and started from the back.

Caught up with Brett after a couple of minutes, and we rode up through the first curvy section to the hairpin. My preference is to ride in the outside of the left lane on this because that's the smallest slope, but we had two trucks behind us at this point, so I took the lead and the middle of the proper lane, and stood through the hairpin. I slowed down a bit to see if Brett would catch up, and then decided just to keep riding. The top of the first section flattens out a bit, and then you turn to the right for the second section.

The second section is truly masochistic. Rather than the slight gradient changes of the first section, this section. There are approximately 4000 rollers in the second section, and they get worse as you go along, with the gradient of the climbing parts going up and the height of each roller going up. I tried to keep my HR in check - in the low 160s - but on a few of them I was closer to 170, which is where I feel like I'm going to fall over and die. The last roller was especially painful, but there's a short respite at the top of that section where I managed to recover back to 160 BPM, then I turned left onto the third section, and saw Brett perhaps 10 seconds behind me.

That's when things get bad. The first turn through there is steep, and it's really hard to keep riding, but you keep on riding (I did it without tacking, but have tacked in the past), until I reach the top, right as Brett catches up to me.

Brett's climbing has improved considerably. Probably has to do with something with the 26 pounds he's lost.

Turned around and rode down to check on the rest of the group. Passed 3 guys on the way down, one near the bottom of the third section, so I went down to look for others. Nobody there so I started up again, intent to catch the rider who was right in front of me.

Right. Try as I might, I couldn't close the distance in enough time to encourage him, but caught him right at the top. Went off with him (and one other) to go to the gate at the top of the hill (a turnoff to the right of the summit just after you crest the top), which takes you up to an old military installation.

Came down, another guy finished, went back up to the gate with him.

Afterwards, I descended down the south side all the way to the Lake Washington trail, rode north, then up lake hills connector (not bad compared to a zoo climb) and the home.

My polar says 24:05 for the climb, which my website estimates to be 234 watts for the 1300' of climbing.  I added another 400 or so when I redid the third section and the gate section twice.

My last ascent was 27 with my old bike (10 pounds heavier), so I'm a little happier than I thought - I'm about 4% faster even discounting the bike difference.

And the climb lived up to my billing for the newbies, who agreed when I told them "the zoo will change how you feel about hills".

WET SUITS are not mandatory for this event. It is simply a matter of preference.

Apparently, this is a new definition of the word "preference" that I was not aware of. A different word would be more appropriate. "Survival" springs to mind.

Dramatis Personae

Eric, as "guy who is doing his second triathlon with as little preparation as possible".

Joe, as "guy who spends far too much time on his various bicycles". Joe is worried because he did a cyclocross race yesterday afternoon and his legs "are pretty tired".

Greg, a friend of ours who is here to do the duathlon. His apartment is apparently sufficiently clean, but he was unable to find a place to buy a swimsuit. He made poor use of his one chance and merely said, "Hey" when we passed each other this morning, so any worries he may have had will remain a mystery.

Molly, Joe's wife and another cyclist who I ride with on our group rides, is also doing the duathlon. Molly is "worried about how fast she will be" (dramatic foreshadowing here...).

Kim, my wife, who came along to shoot pictures (all these are hers) and revel in my suffering.

Pre-pre race

In keeping with my innovative training approach, I've prepared even less than the last race. I have spent a fair amount of time in the pool, but the combination of spending a week building a shed (no riding) and going to my daughter's high school soccer games (also no riding) means that I've probably ridden about 4 times in the last month, instead of my usual 12. The bodes about as well as you'd expect.

Pre-race

We got there at 6AM, parked, and I went into the blazingly-lit transition area with my bike. Got marked, found my spot, set up, and headed over to the start.And stood around in the dark as the sun came up. Well, not actually came up, but the sky slowly became lighter in that way you can only find in a cloudy Seattle morning.

There was a pre-race meeting at 6:50, which was filled with important but not-very-interesting information. My wave had originally be scheduled for 7:25, but this got pushed out to 7:45, presumably due to the number of entries (aka a lot).

The elites went in at about 7:15, and we sat and watched them fly around the swim course. And tried to decide whether the waiting or the cold was worse. Standing in the starting area is a bit like being in the airport, where they make the same announcements over and over.

Our wave finally got called a little before 8AM, and we went into the pre-start holding pen. The wave before us went off, and we walked down the steps (nice) into the water. And my second-least-favorite part of the race came. No, it's not the coldness of the water, it's the walking out to where you can start your swim. I wear shoes all the time, so my feet are baby soft, and the bottom here is composed of golf-ball-sized rocks. It's pretty painful to walk on.  

I stand in the back and talk with another guy who is also not wearing a wetsuit. We are trying to decide whether I am more stupid for planning on doing the race without a wetsuit, or whether he is more stupid for forgetting to put his wetsuit in the car. The race starts before we reach a consensus.

I've decided to wait a bit to avoid the initial thrashing - I'm wearing my contacts and don't want to lose my goggles. My goal is to swim fairly hard to the first buoy to try to get warm and then see how I feel. Initially I keep swimming up people's legs, and decide to hug the inner line. Halfway there I realize I've forgotten to turn on my heart rate monitor, so I pause and do that. The bulk of my wave is in front of me, but there are a few guys behind me. Most curiously, there was a guy doing frog kick (ie "*** stroke kick")  lying on his back while traveling diagonally in front of me. The first buoy comes up fairly quickly, and I swim tight around it and head parallel on the shore to the south. My arms hurt, but they always hurt when I'm swimming. My theory (which is mine, and what it is, too) is that I'm accumulating lactic acid in them, and that (plus my notable lack of upper body muscle) is what's limiting my swim speed (along with a technique that is a few decades out of date). I keep swimming. At this point I've passed about anybody I'm going to from my leg, but I pass a few swimmers from the wave before me. As I get near the last buoy, the chop starts to pick up a tiny bit, but not bad enough to really affect my stroke. I can breathe on either side but prefer my left, and luckily that's on the inside.

I finally reach the final buoy, and head back in. In this case, the route isn't straight in but angles back. The archway that I'm aiming for is square with the shore, and it's hard to tell where I should be swimming sometimes. It doesn't help that my goggles are fogging up, and I spend a little time zig-zagging back towards shore. And I'm fairly cold by now - not shivering, but close. I try to swim a bit faster to get it over with, and finally swim in to where it's about thigh deep, and stand up.

And I'm unbalanced, so I take a step to balance myself (or stumble to the side, if you wish...), and put one of those nice round rocks between my big toe and second toe (between market and home). Not normally an issue, but I injured my big toe playing indoor soccer and have been doing PT for the past few weeks, and that's precisely the motion that hurts. A bunch.

The combination of drunkenness and pain causes me to re-evaluate my evolutionary journey out of the water, and I sit back down with a fair bit of haste (ie collapse), regroup, and try again. I follow a random but roughly forward path towards the arch, take off my swim cap and goggles, and walk/jog on the concrete into transition.

Swim Time: 21:51

Wow, that's slow. I've been swimming pretty consistent 1:06 50s in the pool with slow turns, and that's about 3 minutes over what I expected. I probably swam an extra 100 going back and forth, and I don't think the cold helped me very much, but that's disappointing. I'm glad I didn't know at the time - all I knew was that the swim was over and it was time for some fun. I'm 785/899 in the swim. The fastest guy did in in 10:18, and Joe swam a very nice 16:09

Transition was uneventful - I took off my swim shirt, dried my back and legs, put on a top, and put on socks and bike shoes. Many people ride without socks, which is too much pain for my sensitive feet. I grab my helmet, jog carefully out to the road (SPD-SL cleats and concrete means slow is the right idea), and get on my bike.

Transition: 4:25

That seems pretty slow, but there's a lot of distance to cover, and I had to spend extra time telling my wife to stop taking pictures of me in transition.

I hop on my bike, and head out onto Lake Washington Blvd and head towards downtown Kirkland. Despite having put on a different shirt, I am cold. I have no idea how fast I am because I'm wearing my polar on my wrist rather than on the handlebars, so I just ride. We get into downtown, I follow 2 very slow guys through a tight corner, and we head up market and turn left into the low rent district, and then right and up the hill.

Beautiful mansions. I pass 5 or so riders on the way up but one guy on a bike with aero-bars gets by me (presumably a fast(ish) guy from the wave after me), I pass him going down market, and we turn left to head east. We roll through a few roundabouts at speed (got to like the police escort), and head towards the major climb of the race. My plan is not to hit it too hard, which I follow for all of 100 feet as I stand to pass somebody over the first steep part. I try to hold right on the edge the rest of the way up, pass around 15 people (the # of people I pass will feature prominently because the bike is where I *can* pass people), and get passed by 2 fast guys and one slightly fast one.

We cross 405 on a special police/fire bridge (annoying, normally you have to do a set of tight switchbacks to use this route), go slow at the bottom (steep and wet with crosswalk markings is not a good combo), and turn left onto Slater. I drop down onto my aero bars, and pick off several bunches of people. This section seems longer when we ride it in the opposite direction in my group, but it goes by very quickly and I work my way through a busy intersection (thank you officer...), and head towards the steepest climb. Right as I turn onto it aerobar-dude (the one I passed earlier) comes by me and pretty much stops. There are approximately 5000 riders trying to climb the hill all at once, some riding slowly, some riding really slowly, and some walking. Some may be sliding back downhill for all I know. It's "Flying Wheels up Inglewood time", so I look back, pull left, and ride by a bunch of groups. Nobody passes me uphill, though I'm pegged heartrate-wise and pretty much looking for a place to pull over and die when I get to the top.

So, I slow down a tiny bit, and aerobar-dude comes by again. This next section has the shoulder of the road coned off, which surprised me a bit because you only get 3-4 feet along the side. I crank up to about 90 RPM (a bit below my long-distance cadence but should be a bit faster), and settle in. My legs hurt quite a bit, which means I'm where I expect to be. I pass a few people in ones, and then come up behind a group. There are 3 people all the way over on the right, and 3 people on the left, passing. The passing folks are at about 16 MPH, and I'm around 20. I look behind, see that there's more traffic, pull out into the car lane, and pass the group.

Which is, as Joe points out later, very much against the rules and reason enough to get me disqualified from the race.

Which I'm sure I read in the rules and had repeated to me during the pre-race briefing, but slipped my mind at the time. This is a place where my road cycling experience collides with the triathlon approach. Given the amount of traffic on that road during that time of day, there really isn't a lot of reason to cone it at all, and by doing so all you do is put fast riders closer to slow riders and make it more likely there is an incident.

I continued that approach the whole way - if you come up on a rider *right in the middle* of the coned-off section, you can either yell "move right" (Joe's approach) and hope it works, or take my approach, which I'm convinced is safer but happens to be illegal.

So, anyway, I fly (as much as I can fly at this point) up to the turnoff, head on a short flat, and then climb up to the high point of the race. All that is left is a screaming descent and a short flat down to the start. I've been looking forward to this because a) it's fast and b) I won't have to stop for lights, but it's still wet and I approach it a bit cautiously. As I head around the tightest turn at about 30, there's a women who has crashed into the center lane of the road, with an aid car and a couple of EMTs in attendance. She is sitting up and looks like she's in pain, which I'm hoping means it isn't too serious. I pick up a little more speed (say, 35 instead of the 40+ I'd aim for in the dry), and pass a few more people on the way down.

The last part of the bike section is a short flat. I'm in the bike lane, and an impatient motorist pulls out of a driveway in front of me, and then swerves back into the bike lane. It's my closest call of the day but not really very close, though it impresses a woman right behind me.

I turn the corner, cross the street, and pull off and head back into transition...

Bike Time: 42:43 @ 16.86, for 261st in the group

A bit slower than I hoped (maybe I had a bit of a cold or something), but I don't feel like I could have ridden much faster. Maybe a bit faster in the dry, but not more than a minute or so. My bike ride moved me up from 785th after the swim to 484th after the ride.

The group does pretty well. "Tired legs" Joe rode a 36:41 @ 19.5 MPH, netting him the 24th fastest bike split of the event (did I say he rides *a lot*). "No suit" Greg rode a 37:09 at 19:4 MPH, and "I'm so slow" Molly rode a 40:53 @ 17.61, nearly 2 minutes faster than my time. Molly is officially no longer allowed to mention to me how slow she is. Great ride for her.

Transition 2 is quick - hang up the bike, after moving a Cervello that's diagonal across my space. Shoes off, shoes one, put on the number belt run out of transition grab some water, "you forgot to take off your helmet", a volunteer informs me. He's inside transition, I hand him my helmet and run out.

Transition time: 2:23 (Joe does a 1:50, probably the closest I come to him all day...)

Then it's off for the run. My stomach hurts (it did the whole bike leg), and my stride is about 14" right now. I get  to the top of the slight hill and feel like I'm going to die. A quick glance at my heart rate monitor tells me I'm right - I *am* going to die if I don't slow down, since I'm in the mid 150s. I slow down a bit, it comes down to about 145, and I settle into the run. About 3 minutes into the run I pass Joe coming back to the finish.

The run is mostly flat, with one climb up towards the midpoint, and then a really strange coned-off course through an empty parking lot. They needed to get the distance somehow but it feels like something you'd do in elementary school. I manage to lengthen my stride a bit, but I still get passed by a fair number of people on the run. Here I can really tell that my endurance is down - I can usually run fast enough to make my unused running muscles hurt, but I can't get there today. I come into the finish, hear Kim/Greg/Molly cheer for me, run to the finish where they cut of my tag, and run into Joe on the way out. Then it's off to IHOP for brunch.

Run Time: 26:09, 561st.

The run is what it is. Joe did 21:23, 142nd, completing his sweep over me. Greg ran a 22:26, and Molly ran a 25:49.

Overall time: 1:37:31, 460th out of 899.

My bike was 2 minutes faster than I expected, my run pace was 3 minutes slower, and my swim was just plain slow.

Joe does a 1:18:33, putting him 68th in the field.

Closing thoughts

First of all, if I'm going to keep doing this, I really need a wetsuit. It will keep me warm, make me a bit faster, and provide ample opportunity for mishaps in transition.

Overall, I had fun on both of these, and will probably do a couple next year, perhaps moving up to do an Olympic.

Sunday morning I'm doing the Kirkland Triathlon.

It's another sprint, running the traditional distances this time:

• 1/2 mile swim
• 12 mile ride
• 3 mile run

That's about double what the swim was at Lake Sam, and a bit shorter on the ride.

My preparation is a little more than in the past. I've been swimming a couple of times a week, and have worked my way up to 1500 yards at a time. I've continued my approach to run training - I ran a couple of miles a few weeks ago, but I'm trying to rehab a toe injury that I got in indoor.

The swim course is in Lake Washington, which is likely to be 5-10 degrees colder than Lake Sam was.

I went out last Sunday morning and rode the bike course. The description says "moderate in difficulty with some hills". That may sound relatively good - it's only *moderate*. What you have to realize is that course descriptions are always written by the best people who participate in the event, rather than the average or beginning entrant. My polar says that the course has about 700' of elevation gain in 12 miles. The group that I ride with typically does around 1200-1300' of elevation in 20-some miles, a ride that we classify as "hilly".

That's fine with me - I found the lake Sam course to be pretty boring, and my advantage (relatively speaking) over other entrants is when the cycling part gets harder. The course is pretty cool. All the climbing happens in the first two-thirds, then there's a long flat to slightly uphill section, and then a screaming 40 MPH descent back down to the finish.

The run is along the waterfront, and on pavement most (if not all) of the way. That's good because my toe feels better on pavement than grass/dirt, bad because it's harder on my knees.

Predictions:

I've been swimming consistent 1:06 50s in the pool for long distances. That puts me at 17:36. I'm going to go out on a limb:

Swim: 17:00

Given that it might rain and will be cold, I'm going to take the time to dry my back and put on a different shirt to get some protection. Probably.

T1: 2:30

Bike: I did it in about 48:00 when I rode it at a moderate pace. I think there's a fair bit more to be had there, but we'll see what kind of legs I have:

Bike: < 45:00

T2: 2:00

I'll go 25 minutes if I run at the pace I did last time. Barring stomach issues (and assuming I don't kill myself on the bike and my foot is okay), I'm going to say:

23:00

For a total time of:

1:29:30

Previously:

• Tri-curious
• Tri-ready

Today was the race.

As is typical when I'm doing something new, I slept poorly the night before, and got up at 5AM. Got dressed, drove to the start (or, to be more specific, the wife drove me to the start), where I ran into my friend Joe. I hadn't told Joe I was entering and had hoped to run into him right before the swim, but he found my name in the competitor list and gave me considerable amounts of crap for not telling him ahead of time.

He took my bike into transition for me, and I got everything set up. Signing up at the last minute (well, not *quite* the last minute) meant I was at the back of the transition area in a place that was easy to find. We then hung around with the wives waiting for the pre-race meeting and worrying about getting cold (Joe had a shorty wetsuit, I had none). Put on my timing chip (an RFID chip that records when you go through important points). The wife used my camera to take some nice pictures, despite me setting the lens so it wouldn't focus closer than 3 meters. There's a gallery link at the end.

 

Our friend Greg showed up, who had *said* he was going to sign up but apparently had to clean his apartment or something and missed the cutoff.

The pre-race meeting never materialized, and we migrated down towards the water. A tentative test of the water temp showed that the water temperature was higher than the air temperature, so we stopped whining about how cold it was going to be. We waited for two waves to head out, and then waded out to waist deep for the start. I decided to wait a bit so I'd have cleaner water, so after a 5 second wait I plunged in and headed for the first buoy (big ones, not the small ones I saw yesterday). I was cold for approximately 12 seconds before I got warmed up, so all that worrying was for nothing. My guess is a lot of guys in wetsuits got too hot.

Waiting led to a slight problem. The people that were directly in front of me were slower swimmers than I was, and they were also more erratic in direction that I was. I'd catch up with somebody, slow down, angle to an open spot, and then speed up to get by. By the time I got near them, there was always a swimmer (either the original person or another) in front of me again. By the second buoy I basically gave up trying to get around them, and just swam into the shore. I swam mostly crawl except for a bit of *** stroke, and I found the head-high "approach stroke" for crawl that I learned in lifesaving class 363 moons ago to be pretty useful to sight where I was swimming to. Swam into the beach, stood up and staggered for a few steps (apparently your inner ear gets screwed up), and ran up the beach into transition ("T1", in tri-speak).  

Swim time: 7:01.7 (since that's the full start until the time I ran into transition, I'd be surprised if the swim was a full 400 yards)

In transition, I peeled of my excel swim shirt, cleaned the sand off my feet (no pool to rinse in...), and put my socks and bike shoes on. I pulled my jersey on, and it got stuck on my wet back. I probably wasted 45 seconds getting it on, put on my helmet and sunglasses (no sweatband or gloves), and ran out of transition. Or, tried to - because of my (required) baby blue swim cap, my heat was sweaty, and my sunglasses fogged up instantly when I put them on, so I groped my way through transition the first 30 feet or so (I'm surprised I didn't run into a bike rack).

T1 Time: 3:11.3 (pretty darn slow...)

After you run out of transition with your bike, you mount and then ride out towards the bike course (in this case, a run out to East lake Sam, down to Inglewood and flat - pretty flat). We had a lane to ourselves (split into out and back sections by cones), and I settled into a decent rhythm. On the short run east, I took a drink of accelerade and passed a couple of guys (had to go into the oncoming lane to get around them), and after a little jog, found myself on Eastlake heading north to the turnaround at Inglewood. I picked up my speed a little and settled down my cadence at about 105 (a little higher than I'd normally ride to save my legs for the run). On the way out I passed perhaps 5-6 riders and got past by a similar number. The hard part is not to draft, though I saw a bunch of people coming back who were obviously drafting. I kept my computer on time / cadence because I wanted to go on perceived exertion (I didn't wear my chest strap) rather than some idea of how fast I should be riding.

About half-way out, my stomach started to hurt, an indication that my level of exertion was not compatible to what I was putting into my stomach. That kept up pretty much all the way back on the bike leg, except for the last mile when I slowed down a bit. My polar says that I did 14.6 miles at 19 MPH (19.4 if you cut out the transition sections), while the official timing (which doesn't include the time running with the bike inside of transition that my polar got) says I only did it at 18.3 MPH. Looks like somebody mis-measured the bike course.

Bike Time: 45:48.1

Back into transition again. With the exception of my stomach, I feel okay. Rack my bike (no, move over a bike so I have *room* to rack my bike), pull off my helmet, switch shoes, and fix my race number, which had gotten ripped off putting on my jersey in T1. Head out of transition on the run course.

T2 Time: 2:05

The 10 minutes or so of the run sucked. My legs actually felt okay - not peppy, but okay - but my stomach was still very unhappy with me. After the first mile it settled down, and I picked up the pace a bit. For a while I ran and talked with another guy about my age who also has a friend who is an elite (not that one, an elite triathlete, which means you get to race in your own classification, sometimes get your travel paid for, and perhaps even with some prize money now and then). We run together and talk for a while, but with about a half mile left he needs to walk, so I run on ahead. By this time I feel pretty good, so when a faster guy (I almost wrote "fast guy", but let's be realistic about my running speed right now) came by, I picked up the pace and followed him back to the finish line.

Run Time: 28:27.5

Total Time: 1:26:34
Age group rank: 29/38

That was a bit slower than I predicted, but the ride and run were both longer, so it was pretty close. I didn't have any goal to be especially fast, and I think I succeeded in not being especially fast.

It was mostly fun. The bike leg had a fair amount of pain on it (I don't typically do TT-style rides), but that was tempered by being able to ride away from people up the hills. I enjoyed the second half of the run.

The really interesting part was that I was done and it was only about 9AM. That would be on the short end of my rides, especially for an event ride (usually a century-ish one at 5-6 hours).

Lots of things could cut out time. Starting a little higher up in the swim group. Spending a bit more time in the pool. Getting more organized in transition. Practicing running.

I'm not going to decide tonight, but I think I'll be doing the Kirkland Tri four weeks from now.

Thanks to Elden for inspiration...

Full picture set here...

Tommorrow is triathlon.

Today after work I went to the race site to scope things out, pick up my packet, and get tagged (572 (my number) on my left arm, and 44 M (age and sex) on my left calf). The swim course looks fairly easy though the buoys that are out now don't leave much open water before you get into the vegatation in the water. that part may be interesting.

Came home, made dinner (pasta and vegetables - I wanted to barbecue burgers but though that might be a bit too heavy), and then fixed a low leak on my rear tire (really tiny metal whisker t