September | 2015 | Inside Outside

Tour de Blast

May 18, 1980, Mount St. Helens erupted, hurling a lateral blast of rock, steam, and gas over the ridge five miles to the north. David Johnson, the volcanologist tending the station on that ridge perished in that blast. Today, the ridge is named after him.

Tour de Blast is an 84 mile ride, climbing along Route 504 from Toutle to the Johnson Ridge Observatory. Clear skies on Saturday provided breathtaking views of the crater and surrounding mountains for cyclists riding along the ridge.

I love long climbs like this one. Strava reports we climbed 9600 feet.

OMB Carries Fixed Gear

The OMB required service at the shop in Seattle yesterday. Because the shop needed to keep it for several days, I strapped my fixed gear on the back with bungee cords. That’s how I got back home.

OMB stands for Old Man Bike. It’s actually a Piaggio MP3 250, built in Italy. The owners manual has both Italian and English sections. The scooter has two wheels in the front to provide extra stability, but it still leans and steers like a motorcycle. It’s top speed of 60 mph leaves the bike a bit underpowered, but still suitable for freeway driving. The OMB provides a great means of scooting around Bainbridge Island, and a huge advantage commuting on the ferry because, like bicycles and other motorcycles, it gets to skip to the front of the loading line.

Footnote: I really did not ride my fixed gear across Puget Sound to get home. Forgot to turn off Strava when I got on the ferry.

Auto Biography

1992

When I was born, it was a happy thing for both me, and my mother. I was late coming into the world, so my mom was in a lot of pain. It was April tenth, the day I met the first 3 persons of all the persons I have meat. The first was my mom, her name was Martha Stock. She was nice, and looked relieved when she saw me. The next person was my sister, Kathleen. Kathleen was nice to me entail I was about 5, when she turned into a witch. The last was my dad, Karl. He’s the person that married a woman who ran into a cow. The first night, and 1/2 of the first day was spent in a big building called a hospital.

At about that time I was getting hungry, a person dressed in white came and gave me food. The food tasted of something come out of the junk yard. After that I went home. This was the first house I had ever been in, Chelmsford, Ma. in a small house. In the house were small and big soft things called stuffed animals. I took to them right away, but then when it turned dark, my mom put me in this thing that was off the ground called a crib. In the hospital, the doctors put me in on one of these, and I knew that once in, you never got out. I started to cry, but it was no use, and soon I was in the crib (prison).

On Friday, November 20th, 1981, me and my family got into a new car and left. I never saw that little house again, it was the saddest moment of the 3 1/2 months that I had lived. A couple of days later we stopped at another house. That night all the people there pigged out, all except me. I instead got stained peas, and couldn’t get any of it down, for it tasted like more stuff from the dump. Three days later we got to our destination, Kirkland, Wa, in another small house.

When I was able to crawl, I broke out of my crib (prison) and decided an expedition of the house. I learned many lessons, all of which were important. Lesson 1 was that I could not open the doors without a chair. This stopped me the first, second and third day of expeditions. On the fourth day, I got through. I started crawling down the hall when I came to another problem called stairs. I decided to go the other way that day, and discovered the bathroom. Lesson 2 the water in the toilet tastes bad. In the bathroom there were lots of things that I had already discovered, like the bath tub, something I wish wasn’t there, and the red tooth brush that my mom stuck in my mouth. But thing called the toilet was not discovered yet. I had seen the cat jump on it and discovered a foul tasting water, and I couldn’t understand how the cats drank from it. Then my mom picked me up and put me back in the crib (prison). The next day when the opportunity produced itself I escaped again. The first thing to do was go down the stairs. Lesson 3 you could go down stairs, it just took some might, and gave some bruises. I started down them and found that they weren’t as hard as I thought. When I dropped my guard, I somehow slipped and started rolling down the stairs. But I was down them, so I started exploring. The first thing I saw was the couch. Lesson 4 the couch is a good place to sleep. I climbed up on the couch leg and fell asleep. I woke up in the crib (prison).

One year later we moved to Wellsboro. It was in this house that I trained my dog Murphy to pull me up the hill in my wagon. A year later we moved to Redmond. This was the place when I discovered something called Preschool. I liked preschool, all I did was play with other kids. It was at preschool that I discovered the slide. Preschool finally ended and Eliminatory started. Eliminatory wasn’t as fun as preschool, but I liked it. When I was 8, we moved again, to a place called Salish Springs. I didn’t discover anything important, except for bad words. Another 5 years later we moved to Westchester, where I now write this auto biography, called Mike.

The Ride Across

February 23, 1987

I remember when I was about ten, the day my dad decided to ride his bicycle across the country. He had been thinking about it long before. My mother and I never took it seriously.

He and his friend Tom were going to ride together from Ellensburg, Wash to somewhere in Wyoming. Then Tom would turn and my dad would go on. I didn’t approve of this at all. My dad was going across the country almost all by himself. What would happen if he crashed in the middle of nowhere? He might be lost forever. But my dad, of course, talked me into letting him go. My mother was just as easy.

“Come on Alice,” he said. “I’ve been planning on this for a long time. Tom and I have planned it all out. We’ve been over it a hundred times.”

“Now Dennis,” my mother said. She looked around the apartment. It was definitely a mess. No doubt, the doings of my brother. She closed her eyes tight. You could tell she was ready to give in. “You know what might happen. I’m not even going to think about it. What about the children? What about me?”

“Look,” Dad said. “I’ll wear reflectors, put a mirror on my bike. I’ll stop at every town to check my bike. I’ll write every day or so. You know you can’t stop me.”

“I know. Just go on you old fool.” And that was the end of the discussion.

We were leaving for Ellensburg in the morning. You could tell that my dad was really nervous. I mean, after all, it’s not everyone that rides across the U.S.A. I tell you, he did not stop shaking his knees til about 10:00 pm.

I was later informed that he was riding to his high school reunion. He planned on leaving June 17, 1986. When he got there, of all places in the world, he would go to Goodwill and get a semi-suit to wear to the reunion.

On July 11, he was to return hom. It was only to take him 21 days to ride across the country.

When we got to Ellensburg, we met Sue’s family. I was disappointed, they lived on a farm. The house had modern conveniences I didn’t think a farm would have. Things like a dishwasher, cable, stereo system. They even had a compact disc player. We hadn’t even gotten one of those yet. Sue was one of my dad’s biker friends. So she came out to Ellensburg with us.

We also found out that their cat just had kittens. I had my eye on one cute, striped one. They were all so fluffy and soft.

The next day my dad and Tom left. Tom’s wife, Cheryl, was coming home with us. Before we left for home, I asked my mom if I could have a kitten. She said, “No!” So I tried to sneak it home, but it meowed. Then, when were were about 5 minutes into the drive, I put on my fake tears. It worked. We turned around and got the kitten. She is now called Ginger.

Day 1

Dear Alice,

I have missed you much. We have had no difficulties yet. We are staying at the Appleton Hotel. It’s a pretty nice place, but we got it cause it’s cheap. We had to climb a really big hill today. Tom and I made a vow. We promised to race to every city limits sign. Whoever lost had to buy beer for the other one.

Well, say hello to Laura and Mike. Have got to go now. Bye!

Love,
Dennis

Day 5

Dear Alice,

Tom got a flat yesterday, but it was fixed in no time. How are Laura and Mike? I hope they’re not getting into trouble. Probably are, right? Well, I must get my rest. Oh by the way, Tom turned back today. He’ll be all right. So long.

Love,
Dennis

Day 12

Dear Alice,

Haven’t written lately, have I? Oh well. Got chased by a dog today. Fast little bugger he was. No problem though. All he made me do was go faster. Oh my gosh. I can’t believe I forgot to tell you in the last letter.

Well Tom and I were having one of our City Limits Sprints. We saw a sign saying “Coming up on Sawdustville, Idaho” so of course we sprinted.I was the first to the city limits sign, but there was no city. No house, no restaurant, no nothing. It was hilarious. Well, so long.

Love,
Dennis

Day 14

Those darn semis nearly killed me today. I’m all right. Truck drivers have no appreciation for the American biker. Only 7 more days left. Got a flat out here, no problem. So long.

Love,
Dennis

My dad wrote as often as he could. We really enjoyed his letters.

One day we were at the pool and Mike met a little boy. The boy introduced Mike to his dad and Mike said, “I haven’t got a daddy.” It was hysterical. Hey, but after all, he’s only 5.

Day 17

Everything is well. No dogs, no semis, no flats. Just scenery. Riding swiftly, I did 205 miles today. Byt that’s life. You must ride fast to get far.

Today I wrote to Karl. I’m going to stay at his place when I get there. Give my love to the kids.

Love,
Dennis

Today my mom got into one of her fits on how she just knows he is going to crash. She goes on and on about it. Also Ginger decided to go on mom’s new rug. Boy, was mom mad.

Day 19

Hey, only 2 more days left. Today when I got into town, a bum tried to steal my bike and beat me up. I kicked him where it counts and he hobbled away. But that’s life. I knew it would happen sometime. Got to rest up. Big day tomorrow. Good bye.

Love,
Dennis

Day 20

Ha ha! Only one more day. You just have to wait. But that’s life. Today I lost my wallet. Fortunately there was no money in it. People aren’t very nice in this Pennsylvanian town. They’re real snobs. Got to check on my bike. See you soon.

Love,
Dennis

Although my father’s letters were short, they were enough. My father was not a talkative man. Save for when he was yelling at Mike or me.

You know, sometimes I think my dad’s favor line is “But that’s life.” He says it almost every day.

At home Michael kept getting into trouble. He loved to torment Ginger. But Murphey, our dog, loved her. It was funny to watch them play. Murphey would be sitting wagging his tail and Ginger would pounce on it. Murphey would turn around and Ginger would run away.

The next day we went to the pet store. We went there to get Mike the most indestructible pet we could think of. A turtle. We did this so Mike would not mess with Ginger any more. Michael was yippee I A all the way home.

Day 23

The reunion was very dul. Ho hum sort of deal. Not much to tell. After it, at Karl’s house, we played Trivial Pursuit all morning. Geff, Cooper and John were there. See you in a few days. Bye now.

Love,
Dennis

“Mom I can’t wait till we pick him up,” I said. I was very impatient to get to the airport. We were going to go pick up my dad. Then we were going to got to a surprise party at Tom and Cheryl’s hous. “It’s been almost since I’ve seen him last.”

“Yeah,” said Mike. “ I hope he brought some presents. I really need a new toy car.”

I suppose that’s all Mike thinks of, toys.

“Oh Mike,” said mom. “You are such a pest. I don’t know how I put up with you.”

We finally got to the airport. When we got inside, Michael ran off. We couldn’t find him anywhere. We saw one of those guys in uniform that drives those little carts. Well anyway we saw him and asked him for help. He announced it over an intercom.

“May I have your attention pleas,” he said. “If you happen to see a little boy, 5 years of age, in blue choo choo train overalls and a red shirt with blonde hair, pleas return him to the lobby at once.”

Mike was soon returned. Mom had words with him in the ladies room while I went to find dad.

Everything turned out all right. Mike was grounded from T.V.

But that’s life.

The End.

Toe Jam Redux

Yesterday, I finally succeeded riding up Toe Jam Hill in zone 2, breathing only through my nose. This short stretch of road from South Beach sports a 23% grade. Some caveats: I was still breathing pretty hard, had to tack back and forth a few times.

Aside from entertainment, my larger purpose is to establish that anyone can climb any hill on a bike with the proper attitude. Of course, that statement is not true, there are still plenty of hills I cannot climb. Nevertheless, Toe Jam Hill establishes a steep upper bound.

Clearly cycling speaks a language of metaphor. Life challenges us with many hills to climb. Even if we can’t make it up K2 or Everest, even if we can’t swim across the Atlantic Ocean or bring peace to the Middle East, I claim the biggest impediment to achieving most dreams is our attitude.

Heart Rate Training

I stopped wearing a heart rate monitor while riding several years ago. In this post I’ll explain why, what I do instead, and an experiment I performed check one of my assumptions.

heart rate zones

Several different models specify a table of heart rates and the intensity of effort. Working at low intensity, a person has a lower heart rate, can go indefinitely, burns more fat, less glycogen and breathes easily. Working it peak intensity, the same individual has a heart rate near maximum, can go for only a short burst, burns 100% glycogen, and is nearly out of breath. A typical model describes five zones.

Zone	Effort	Heart Rate Percent of Max
1	Easy	less than 60%
2	Endurance	60 - 69%
3	Tempo	70 - 79%
4	Aerobic	80 - 89%
5	Anaerobic	90 - 100%

In the above table, 90% of max heart rate corresponds to a person’s lactate threshold, or the point at which lactic acid starts to accumulate in the bloodstream. Below this threshold, a cyclist is working aerobically, limited only by the stored glycogen in the liver and muscles. Above this threshold requires more energy than the body can supply for more than a brief period. Coaches commonly recommend using a heart rate monitor (HRM) to structure training: hard workouts in zone 4, intervals in zone 5, and recovery rides in zone 2.

Riding without a Heart rate monitor

I found many riders using an HRM, tend to be more focused on the numbers reported by by a gadget, less aware of how we feel, what is going on around us. Being a left brain obsessive, I was particularly prone to this habit. Wanting to enjoy the ride more, I came up with the following substitute for HRM numbers.

1) The zone 2 threshold corresponds to how fast I can ride while breathing only through my nose. Other writers have described this as the pace at which one can comfortably carry on a conversation.

2) The LT (zone 4) threshold corresponds to how fast I can ride up a long hill – a climb requiring more than 10 minutes, preferably much longer. It takes some experience to find this limit. Because it takes three minutes for a person’s heart rate to stabilize in response to energy demands, the climb must be long enough for the body to reach a steady state.

Most of the time I’m riding by myself I’m in zone 2. There’s no reason to push harder or even care about my heart rate zone. If I do a hard climb, I’ll know when I push my heart rate to zone 4 or the LT. If I’m out “playing” with friends, maybe I’ll do the same on a flat road. No HRM required.

EXPERIMENTAl RESULTS

Yesterday, I dug up my heart rate strap and wore it during an hour of indoor cycling to check my supposition that the zone 2 threshold corresponds to max effort at which I could breath only through my nose. Results supported this model. My zone 2 threshold, calculated by the Kavonen method, is 127 bpm. Before I was warmed up, I found I had to start breathing through my mouth at 125 bpm. After I was warmed up, after riding at my LT (163 bpm) for an extended period, the easing off to recover, I could ride at 135 bpm and still breath through my nose.

conclusion

Unless one has a very specific need for a heart rate monitor, leave it at home, or better yet don’t purchase one. Ride the bike. Have fun.

Living on Borrowed Summer

Another easy ride this afternoon, this time because I still felt trashed after indoor cycling this morning. Summer was supposed to have ended Labor Day. I keep wondering when the rains will arrive.

Baker Hill Easy

Three consecutive days of hard rides had cooked my legs, so yesterday called for an easy ride. On Bainbridge Island, any ride over a couple miles long is going to include hills, but I claim it’s possible to ride easily up just about any hill; it’s just a matter of how slow you need to ride.

To test my claim, I selected Baker Hill, one of the longer climbs on the island with a 10% grade. My litmus test for easy means riding while breathing only through my nose, which corresponds roughly to riding in heart rate zone 2. (I don’t wear a heart rate monitor.)

Strava reports that I climbed the west side of Baker Hill at an average speed of 3.2 miles per hour. That’s excruciatingly slow on a bike, about the same speed one could walk up the hill, but I had little difficulty riding at that speed and breathing only through my nose.

I have long claimed the primary challenge climbing any hill is mental. With the proper attitude, setting reasonable expectations, anyone should be able to climb any hill. The problem we often face is surrendering to expectations that we should be going faster, and when we try to do that we blow up and fail. Of course this is not just about cycling.

Toe Jam Hill, recently closed for resurfacing, is now open

Full disclosure, there’s another hill on the south end of the island named Toe Jam Hill. It’s shorter than Baker Hill Road, but steeper, with a 23% grade at the start of the climb. I’ve tried riding easy up Toe Jam twice, and failed both times. The first time I almost crashed, when my front wheel lifted off the road.

PROS Ride

Labor Day, the first Monday in September, the last day of summer, brought beautiful weather for Seattle. Blue skies over blue water, sailboats pushed by a gentle wind, runners and cyclists propelled by lungs and legs enjoyed an outdoor paradise yesterday.

I did the PROS ride with Bobs and Jeff, and two different groups of cyclists. PROS stands for Perimeter Ride Of Seattle, an 80 mile loop around the City, put on by COGS, or Cyclists of Greater Seattle. Three different groups ride together at different paces, making frequent stops to eat, drink and pee. We started with the medium paced group, which turned out to be too slow. After Jeff turned right to cross the I-90 bridge and return home, Bobs and I caught the fast group at a lunch stop. I joined them for the remainder of the ride, and he cut the ride short when the route went past his house.

The route around Seattle is hilly – longer hills with a moderate grade in the south, short steep climbs in the north. Even though I consistently hit the top of climbs at the front of the fast group, a comparison of Strava fly-by’s shows my power output is lower. My average power was 115 watts, compared to 130 – 170 watts for people riding the same pace. Those numbers confirm what I already knew – I’m really not that strong, but my power to weight ratio makes me an effective climber.

Saturday Ride to Port Gamble

After a while, I suspect this blog may contain many entries with this title. Every Saturday morning, a group meets at Winslow Green on Bainbridge Island and rides to Port Gamble and back. The size of the group varies from two to twenty, depending on season and weather, and they almost always ride the same route. North on 305, right on Toten, left on Port Gamble Road, left on 104 to Port Gamble. I don’t particularly care for parts of the route that ride along main highways, but I ride anyway because I like the people, they know how to ride in straight lines, and at times the group motivates me to ride faster than I otherwise would. (Truth be told, most of the time when I ride alone, I ride like a slug.)

Going north on 305, the main highway on Bainbridge Island, the group always starts out much faster than I would ride. Lately I’ve been hanging off the back, avoiding sitting on anyone’s wheel because it requires me to work a little harder, riding without the benefit of a draft. Also, I’m not really thrilled about riding pace lines on main highways.

Today, like many days, I didn’t talk much while riding. It’s important to me be part of the group, but often I don’t feel like talking much. One thing I’ve noticed about people in general, and cyclists in particular, they’re really fond of talking about what’s going on in their lives. That’s fine by me, because I’m actually interested, and it also makes it easy if I don’t need to say much more than asking questions and remarking about someone else’s stories. It’s not that I’m reluctant to share, I’m just not inclined to do so unless I find someone is genuinely interested. INFJ.

Because we always ride the same route, there are pre-determined places where we pick up the pace. I look forward to the sections, because right now I’m in decent condition. Today, no one seemed to want to play hard. When it was my turn to take a pull on the pace line riding down Big Valley Road, I road off the front taking only Scott with me. Everyone else took it easy.

Actually, it’s pretty common for cyclists in this area to back off this time of year. People typically improve their conditioning to get ready for summer events like Ramrod, STP, and other centuries, then back off in September. No one can maintain peak condition all year round. Racers use the term periodization to describe how they’ll tune their conditioning for key races. The same idea applies to recreational riders.

The Saturday group welcomes riders of different abilities. It’s a no-drop ride, meaning the group always waits at pre-determined places for slower riders to catch up. For the past couple months I’ve noticed how there really are no slow riders – everyone rides pretty much the same pace. Slower riders are probably reluctant to start out with this group. I know from experience, it’s not fun to ride with a group if I’m always dragging off the back with my tongue hanging out.

After we crossed Agate Passage and returned to the rock, I decided to leave the group, and take a longer route home. Mostly I just wanted to stop and pee. It also gave me the chance to climb a few more hills on the way to Battlepoint park and to stop and take a picture. Maybe the moss covered barn is somehow symbolic of me. Or maybe it’s just a barn.