Return to Glorieta

It has been a long time since I climbed Acalanes Rd. to Glorieta. Probably at the summit where the road name changes is the city limit line between Lafayette and Orinda. While the climb is only half a mile, and a couple hundred feet, it hits 20% for a bit and is quite steep. Feels good.

I was planning a 40 last night, but I hung around eating frozen yogurt with Dale so I just cut 5 miles and a climb and suddenly, I’m back on schedule! I felt good right off. I planned and ate well setting up for the ride. I only took two large size water bottles and did not need to bring any food along. Climbing Tunnel Rd. was just swell. I dropped right down Pinehurst to Canyon and then out through Moraga to Lafayette. Descending Moraga Rd. to Lafayette is a very nice, fast road that allows pedaling through all the turns in top gear while draped out on my aero-bars in a position similar to a skier’s tuck. I got a bit of recovery rolling through Lafayette to Acalanes Rd. It was just calling me last night. Oh yeah. I shifted all the way down to my easiest gear and still needed to stand up, but it was good. Real good. There is something about climbing hard when you feel it. It is just satisfying.

Rolling over the summit, I began shifting up and speeding up, and OOPS, missed that stop sign. I’ll do better at the next one. A bit of notice wouldn’t have hurt. Maybe there was and I just missed it because I was still breathing hard and bleeding lactic acid out of my eyeballs. Feels good.

The last real climb of the day was Wildcat Canyon that also went very well. Starting out the climb in second gear, I upshifted as the gradient eased toward the top and then blasted through Tilden Park. Before descending into Berkeley, I stopped to put on a long-sleeve jersey and the perfect wind vest Karen found at Goodale’s Bike Shop in Nashua, NH when I was looking for the right one. A good shop when you are in the area.

Basking in the twilight and afterglow of my ride: Glorieta 35, I turned on my bike lights and shot down Spruce Street. Ah, the simple pleasures of life: going uphill, going downhill, and hammering the flats. Feels good.

35 miles, 2,400 vertical feet of climbing, 2:20 averaging 14.6 mph.

Calories and ice-cream headaches well earned

OH, we had a good ride Saturday! It was hot; damn hot. John B. drove up from San Jose to try the roads in my area: nothing but hills. OK, one need not ONLY ride hills here, but that’s what the day called for.
John was impressed with my meteorological and map study that brought headwinds on every climb of a loop ride. Shout-out to Our Lady of Perpetual Headwinds in NJ.
Twenty-five miles, 2,300 vertical feet of climbing. Damn hot. Right out of the gate, we climb about 6.5 miles; a little undulating, and then climb some more. John was riding a mountain bike with street tires, hauling a rack with a thermal lined lunch-box-sized bag on back and he kept and set the pace! When he gets his road bike, he’ll be dangerous. Once we pass the Chabot Observatory, we get what we worked for: a quick descent on Skyline, to a long, fast shot through Redwood Rd.
We turn onto Pinehurst and guess what? We start to climb again! But that is precisely what he came here to do and we are having a great time. Descending the south end of Pinehurst heading into Canyon is a winding, twisting succession of quick turns. John throws his mountain bike through them like he’s been riding this road for years. The long shallow, yet mounting climb through Canyon to the base of the Climb of the Day takes its toll and we stop to catch our breath at the first hair-pin turn. John opens the cooler bag and pulls out COLD iced tea enough to share! In the seriously 40 years of riding those hills, I have NEVER had cold iced tea on Pinehurst. We climb on as the road steepens all the way to the summit, undulate through to the last and quite painful climb, then it is all down hill to Peet’s Coffee and Tea on Domingo for large Mocha Freddos.
Calories and ice-cream headaches well earned.

"Nobody Told Me There'd Be Days Like These"

The Other Day, around 4:20 A.M. Dale and I were frightenly awakened by the crash of branches, thud, and then death wailing from some stoned jerk trying to climb to the second floor deck of my neighbor's house.

"AAAH!! Oh my God! I broke both my ankles! I've shattered them!"

"I'm calling for help!" I yell out my bedroom screened window.

"No! Don't call! Oh my God I've never felt such pain! Can I have some water?"

I think to myself, he climbed high enough up the tree then fell far enough to hurt himself bad enough that he cannot run away, and he wants me to bring him a glass of water. No thanks. I'll let the professionals with guns handle this situation. They do, and eventually "Greg" is taken away on a gurney, leaving nothing but his socks and an empty cigarette pack.



I finally fall back to sleep and awaken again 15 minutes before I am supposed to be at work in a crisply ironed shirt and tie. I go for the sexy "bed head" open collar with 5 o'clock shadow look to mixed reviews. All are happy that I had already scheduled to leave for the day at noon.

Later that same day, Dale and I attend an Osher Lifelong Learning Institute lecture by her former mentor who directed her MA University Thesis. He spoke about what makes Samuel Johnson still so interesting and relevant after 300 years. Dale invited 3 of her former students to attend and then we took them all out for a late lunch at a sports bar in Clayton. The students had never been in the area and we formed a caravan leading them to lunch and then back to each respective freeway exit home. It was so much fun! The students all spoke about Dale's class and what a foundation shaking, exciting, class like none other they had ever had.

The quote of the day came from the young woman as they all were talking about how hard the class was and how much they enjoyed working that hard for Dale:

"Mrs. Ireland busted my balls in that class!"

Motorpacing

Well, I continue to be delighted with my cycling progress. I had another terrific 28ish last night. Fortunately for me, Dale is more observant than me, and I have learned to listen to her and trust her. Heading out last night, I grabbed my wind vest thinking that would suffice. Dale strongly suggested bringing along a long-sleeve jersey as well. I though that her Be-All-To-End-All iF’ingPhone was off on the temperature and I did not need the jersey. I grabbed one and stuffed it into one of my pockets and thanked my lucky stars that I married so well when I was descending out of the hills at 8:00 PM with the evening fog rolling in!

Out in the valley of Redwood Road I picked up a great “motor pace” from a pickup truck with a camper shell. Hammering through the valley at about 35 MPH tucked into the slip-stream of the truck was great. A tennis-ball chasing pointer/terrier/Australian Sheppard/whatever dog was keeping a close watch with great interest out the back window of the camper shell. The driver kept a steady pace, unwavering through the turns. When ready to pull over at a park entrance to run the dog, the driver signaled well before braking at all and I pulled back right away, waiving a big “thank you” as I passed.



28 miles, 2,500 vertical feet, 2:05 ride time, 13.2 mph average

Life is Good on my Redwood Rd. 40

I returned to one of my favorite loops today, what I call the Redwood Rd. 40. After the fairly hard rides earlier this week and the quite warm temperatures today, I rode fairly conservatively. It was just great. The only real notables included a spider catching a lift on my handle-bars for a bit; that ended with an angry spider with road-rash flipping me off. The other noteworthy point occurred climbing the very last short little climb up to the Brazilian Room in Tilden Park. Previously at this point, I whined my way up in my lowest gear: 32 inches. Today, I approached more of a sprint in a 50 inch gear. At my peak, I could sprint the hill in a 72 but that was long ago and I do not expect to do that again. This felt very good today.

40 miles, 3,000 vertical feet of climbing, 3 hours, averaging 13.5 MPH.

Wait! I’m OK. I am OKAY. All is not lost.

After Friday’s distressing ride, Monday’s 35 went fairly well and last night I was on fire! Maybe it was just getting the sludge out after not riding for a while; the first rude awakening. I was rolling, feeling strong last night. As soon as I started out on my warm-up I felt different: better.
Good thing!

I climbed Spruce a gear or two bigger, had to wait for a lane closure on Wildcat going through Tilden Park. That pavement has needed serious improvement for some time now. I rocketed down Wildcat to Orinda passing a car and a couple cyclists, but don’t tell Dale. She’s a bit uncomfortable hearing about my fast descending. I hammered the grade from Orinda over toward Moraga and then rolled out the descent snacking a gel and a banana.

Entering Canyon, all was well as I caught my breath and prepared for the climb of the day up Pinehurst when I heard that familiar Phit, Phit, Phit, Phit of air no longer interested in the confines of my rear tire. Not the gun-shot like “report” of some punctures; a civilized deflating. With a nice bit of driveway off the road leading to Canyon School, I pulled off the road to change my tube. It was dusk by now and started to cool off a bit so I put on my wind vest and put my bandana on as a pirate scarf trying to keep what warmth I had. It was pleasant safely off the road next to the West, WEST fork of the Raritan River as I started work on my tire.



And then they arrived. Now, I cannot say anything about the Raritan where it flows through New Jersey, but in Canyon it’s got way too many mosquitoes. I heard them before I saw them; buzzing and chattering with glee:

“I told you if we set that thorn in the road just right that we’d eat like kings!”

There I stand, all sweaty with a flat tire.
Next thing, I was slapping my legs, face and arms, and dancing around as I work on my tire. Great.

Thankfully, the tube change went well and I was on my way again leaving a swarm of bloated, burping mosquitoes in my wake.

My riding continued well climbing Pinehurst. Previously, I was hurting quite a bit on the steep part. This day I was in the next bigger gear rather than my lowest and climbed strong, sitting down the entire way not having to stand to make it up.
Streaking down Tunnel Road I turned on my lights to show up in the graying foggy evening, quite happy and satisfied with the ride.

30 miles, 2,300 vertical feet of climbing, 2:10 averaging 13.5 mph.
Feeling much better now; not all is lost.