My First Solvang Century

In the interest of trying to catch up to the here and now, this is my second blog this week! Karrazy schtuff.

For years I have heard many of the Backboners speaking of the delightful Solvang Century. Mostly when we attend the Firestone Walker mountain bike race (now the Santa Ynez Valley Classic) as the Century course passes right beside the race course.

This year I was finally formally invited by my road training partner and all around great gal Betsy. She sang sweet lies about enjoying my company and my winning smile or some bs like that, but when I got to the venue, I realized that the mighty munchkin bunch just needed a large object to draft behind for 100 miles!

And since Tim was smart enough not to fall for her woman trickery I was the only alternate. ;) But seriously it was an awesome group o girls and a lot o fun. Here we are pre-ride, l to r; Betsy, Jeannie, Me, Donna & Steph.

After a lazy late wakeup and breakfast of eggs and oatmeal & strawberries from Donna's 'J-Lo' trailer we were on our way, but not before all four girls donned their secret weapons, a US Post Office mail pouch inserted inside the front of their jerseys a la the newspapers Tour de France riders use. The weather was supremely cool with heavy cloud cover for most of the day and the double-layered laminated paper pouches would provide the ladies with unparalleled frontal wind protection! Who knew?

The ride went smoothly, with only Donna throwing in attacks right from the get-go. At the first aid station though, the group reformed after PB&J sammies, bananas and a pee break. We endured horrible scenery the entire ride; lush green rolling hills spotted with trees, valley after valley of gorgeous wine fields, and wildflowers of all colors.

With the temperature just below what I thought was perfect and a pace just below what I thought was optimal I eventually began to get antsy, though. Luckily, just before I went completely mad, about that time we were about 2/3 through the course and we started the hilly sections. Metaphorically thumbing my nose at the rest of the people who were just happy to finish a Century (except the guy riding the 3-speed 'Fat Tire Ale' beach cruiser, complete with fenders, fake gas tank, and racks) I proceeded to climb the hills at mach speed, only to flip a U-ie at the top, charge back down and do them again. It really worked out perfectly, too, as I would get to the top the second time just after the girls got up the first time, and the group would be whole again. Yay!

With only one pavement section that was torn up so much that you wanted to chew your arms off, the rest of the ride went splendidly. The girls, realizing that the end was near and they still felt great, were able to quicken their pace. Even the last climb which was rumored to be a hellish nightmare, which ran mere feet away from the dreaded dirt climb on the Firestone Walker course, was breezed over with so little effort that everyone was left wondering "Was that it?"

Seasoned century pros that we were, we even skipped the actual finish line, opting instead to head straight back to our deluxe campsite, for beers, a hot tub soak, and a great campfire cookout. Awesome stuff.

It's definitely a great ride and a great vibe.

Bonelli: Race Numero Uno!

Well, a lot late but here's a rundown.

My first race was supposed to be a "practice" Southridge Winter Series race a week previous, but since the Marzocchi on my Tomac had a blown Oh-Oh-O-ring the night before, I had to pass. I was unwilling to ride my lower back-pretzling Litespeed or the 35 lb. Kona.

So I came into Bonelli cold, which wasn't my first choice. I did pre-ride the new course on Saturday, though, so at least I would know what to expect in that regard. An interesting almost completely new course. And the only parts included from previous years were run in the opposite direction, so it might as well been brand new. Everything was either up or down, too, not much in the way of flats. And the downs were super-short :( It was still fun though, blowing past people and then jamming on the breaks at the last second before the hairpins at the bottom!

My main problem, though, was completely ignoring the readout on my Sigma HR monitor. I wear it race day for a reason. It was blinking wildly at me as I pounded out the first two laps between 190 and 200 beats a minute. Yes, even for my hummingbird heart that's too hard.

So after overenthusiatically chasing the lead group for 14 miles, 1/4 way into the 3rd lap my body had had enough. After that no amount of Amino Vital Fast Charge or caffeinated GU could speed my trudge to the finish line. :P It's definitely not fun watching riders in your class repass you and not be able to do anything about it.

But, lesson learned: Too fast + too soon = no bueno. And it was fun to start another season with a great team and great sponsors. Thanks have to go out to the man of men Roger for keeping shit organized and for hosing us down with the Nomad every lap! Ryan was kind enough to take on bottle-passing duty as well. And definitely great to have the PMBC crew out there! Great guys (and girls), awesome attitudes, and incredible FOOD. See you next time.

Spanish for "Whale's Vagina"

That's right, it's the second half of my ride to SAN DIEGO.

After stopping for a sandwich at Giovanni's (wayyy to long, but it was a beautiful day!) The girls geared back up and we were on our way.



Betsy dons gloves and Steph cranks up the iPod




After climbing the dreaded hill at Torrey Pines we took the fast, windy architectural tour of UCSD where I was questioned repeatedly by the girls if I knew where the hell I was going. Sadly I did. :)


After a nice stretch between the 5 fwy and some rolling grassy hillsides I was again grilled by the ladies as to whether I had any idea where we were, or how to get where we were going. The bike trail becomes a labyrinth: crossing city streets, funneling beneath a few underpasses, and winding over a trail that is barely recognizable as a trail. Again I DID actually know what I was doing and it was a short stint before we were cruizing by beautiful Mission Bay.



After passing by Old Town and being narrowly missed in merging traffic by a hard-charging city bus, we finally arrived at the downtown.


Making our way to the Amtrak station we were regretfully told that the train leaving in 10 minutes had already attained its 6 (that's right six) bicycle limit and we were out of luck. We were fortunate enough to be #4,5 & 6 on the list for the next train, though - an hour later. If anyone has ever ridden, or considered riding somewhere in connection with taking a train, you will contact Amtrak immediately to tell them they need more storage space for bicycles.

We did have a nice wait, though, as the sun descended and we enjoyed our cups of coffee (definitely NOT alcohol! ;) ). COFFEE.











And finally we enjoyed the leisurly cruise back home on the choo choo.

"Stay classy San Diego."

D.P. to S.D.

WHAT? Two blogs in one week? This can't be!

Well the official Dana Point to San Diego road ride took place on Saturday, so here's the wrap-up for all of you losers who couldn't make it.


Blogger is taking forever to upload the pics, as well as not putting them in the order I upload them, so I'll have to make this a 3 parter. WHAT? More blogs??? Unthinkable! But why do they make it so damn hard compose these things? GALL?


After riding from my casa in the SJC and hooking up with the Betsy and Steph in DP, we made final tire pressure adjustments and were on our way. We shot down the hill into Doheny, through onto PCH, and south past San Clemente. It was only then I remembered "Hey! I've got a fricken camera in my jersey!"

Other rideers found themselves helpless as we formed a paceline (me pacing, them lining), and trucked by at high speed.




We soon found ourselves entering San Onofre State Beach, encountering the worst sign EVER.


I know my lovely companions are married and all, but a guy can dream can't he? No, he can't, when there are signs like this jolting him back into reality.

Fortunately I was able to pull myself back together and continue the ride. Upon entering Camp Pendleton Marine Base we encountered a horrible group of Tri weenies. Not able to hold a consistent pace for more than 90 seconds, the girls suddenly found themselves in what felt like 405 rush hour traffic as the group of 15 again and again sped past them, only to putter to a crawl moments later. I don't understand. Luckily for me I got ahead of all but two of them, so I felt the affects much less severly.


We finally made it to Oceanside, though, and basked in the awesomeness of another day of winter in SoCal. Sorry Tookie, Maybe when they thaw you out they'll put you in a movie with Pauly Shore?






More next time...

Groundhog Day

The real Punxsutawney Phil this morning in Pennsylvania predicting 6 more weeks of winter. Uh oh California, six more weeks of high 60s before it gets back up to 78. Yikes! Actually, records show that Phil has only been right 28 percent of the time, which means it's more likely that spring already here (tell that to Kentucky, though).












I obviously prefer the cinematic version:



Waking up day after day on Feb. 02, Bill Murray goes berserker trying to endlessly woo Andie MacDowell while hanging out with the likes of Chris Elliot. Great stuff.

PCH Ride

I know, I know, I'm the worst blogger ever.

Here are some phone pics from my weekly ride south on PCH from the casa. No, I didn't plan ahead and bring a real camera, but these turned out pretty good actually.

I know Chris will enjoy this most of all, since he has probably already bought battery-operated socks so he can build igloos in his front yard and not freeze to death in the sub-zero temperatures he is no doubt experiencing O hi o.


I started taking pics on the way back north to the house. This crazy 3 degree rise may be steeper than any hill found in Chris's current state.





















The lifeguard towers get drunk in the parking lot in the afternoon and reminisce about that one time Nicole Eggert ran down the sand in front of them in super-slow-motion.
























Speaking of bouncing, this next one is the set of bodacious bazoongas on the San Onofre Nuclear Generating Station. That's right SONGS. The only tune you'll hear if this 2,200 megawatt reactor melts down, though, is "Taps."

























But enough of the depressing stuff, here's the nipple shot!
























Look ma, no hands!

Actually, don't look ma, I'm sure you'll be frightened and chastise me. "But mom, everyone's going 'hands-free' nowadays!"
























And finally, a couple last pics as that big ball o fire plunges into the ocean.



























Happy Trails!

DH2

Here are some Lizard Pics, taken by pro photographer Bill Freeman. Check out www.freemanimages.com for samples of his sweet photos and for his contact info.

Bombin the "Sonic S"














Hikin back up












Flyin down again:

DH Vegas???

I was fortunate enough to participate in the 25th annual Leaping Lizard dowhill race in Laguna Beach, CA. Though my cajones are not of sufficient diameter to qualify me as a true downhiller I do enjoy a gravity based competition a few times a year, and this is one of em.
Armed with my tank-like Kona Dawg (and it's angry 5 inches of travel), all the plastic armor I can find (gathering dust in boxes the garage), a full face helmet (in case I start bouncing off of trees like a pinball), and of course my Cedric Gracia carbon knuckled 661 gloves (for punching anyone who tries to pass me). I venture forth.

Usually this race ends up being a teeth chattering, I can barely hang on to the finish, why am I doing this event, but this year was different. With the plethora of recent rain here in SoCal and the gumption of a dozen or so dedicated riders, immense hours of trail work were put into the course, the famed Telonics, making it a dream to ride down. Blue grooved ruts and stutter-bumps became super-flat tacky brown earth. Corners were banked like turn 3 at Daytona. The chin guard on my helmet hid my wide grin as I flew (well, flew for ME!) down the hill.

The two run format and DIY shuttle system (as in "hike your own ass up the entire course pushing your bike") allowed me to keep my heart rate up and finish a scant 57 seconds behind race winner Brian Lopes, who sported his new powder blue Ibis refitted with a long-travel fork. He better look out for me this year, I might decide to try 4X (if my swelled noggin can fit into a full face helmet anymore!) HA!


After the race, beer drinking and food mowing ensued as well as the awards ceremony which featured Hans "No Way" Rey

on speakerphone via Mission Hospital. That's right. Unfortunately the Trials champion, Skillsmeister General and all-around speed demon crashed earlier in the week preriding the course. Ejecting off the famed "Volkswagon Rock"(which is called that because it's the size of a VW bug) he shattered his ankle. Did naming the new Kenda tire he helped design the "Telonix" jinx him??? We'll never know, but our thoughts and prayers are with him for a speedy recovery.

Luckily no one else was injured and the race was a blast. With Johnny T's Primer 220 coming out soon, I just might have to look at doing some more DH races.

OOOOOOOOOr maybe not. :)

Deflowered

Huh huh. La Negra and I got it on this weekend! A loop that included going up Trabuco and down Bell; a fine way to break her in. The recent rains have made the trails incredible. Super lush foliage and super tacky soil (That's Bell that starts on the right and ends waaaaaaay down there in the middle left-just above the bush).

She likes it dirty.

Thanks to my bike shop BUY MY BIKES! for gettin her all together. And thanks to all the sponsors for the bitchin parts: XPEDO MF-4A pedals, SUNLINE/661 carbon bars and lock-on grips, SIGMASPORT computer, KENDA Kharisma tires, and of course Joel and John at TOMAC for the frame. This baby flies and I can't wait to get her to the races!