March 15, 2005: Time to get serious

OK, it's time to start getting serious about the race training because the Sea Otter is only one month away. I don't think I'm badly out of shape or anything, but I've been kind of pacing myself so that I don't burn out on the training before the April races. Now it's time to remove the governor and go for it. I think Romulus has been a little more strategic and disciplined with his training, so he's probably a little bit ahead of me on that front.

A clean bike is a good bike
Sunset over Mavericks
More fuzz in the Fitz

  • Sea Otter Cross-Country race -- April 17, 2005
  • Napa Valley Dirt Classic -- April 24, 2005
  • The Lemurian -- April 30, 2005
  • In the spirit of reinvigorated training, today I did a nice mix of hammering (coastal trails), hills (full Quarry loop), and technical (Fitz).

    It was a beautiful, warm spring day. The sky was clear and there was just the slightest of breezes ruffling my golden locks as I motored through the local neighborhoods and trails. I did have a stabbing pain in my left shoulder for most of the ride -- my typical C3-C5 chiropractic issues.

    So, I'm bombing down the coastal bikepath towards Half Moon Bay, and there's these two old bags standing square in the middle of the path admiring the beautiful oceanfront homes to the east. I call out "Coming up" twice in a loud clear voice (because, of course, I'm the only one paying attention to the situation). No reaction, they just continue yakking, oblivious to the world around them. It's all about them.

    Finally, as I'm bearing down on them and starting to brake to avoid a geriatric incident, the grand old dame holding court dains to divert her attention to the traffic on the path she's completely obstructing. She sees me, mhrumphfles her lips British royalty style at me, lightly nods, and gives me leave to pass. "Mhrumphf, mrha, harumphf, yes I do mhrumphf, say good peon, you humphf, mhrumphf, may pass." Gee thanks you old battleax, now get the fuck off of my bikepath, get the fuck off of my bikepath (like the Sgt screaming at Private Pyle to get the fuck down off of his obstacle in Full Metal Jacket).

    The animal drought continues. I did have to fight my way through recurring thick clouds of gnats. Does that count? I have not seen an animal of consequence in months. I will admit to giving short shrift to birds in the blog, so maybe I should pay a little more attention to the avians.

    Huht, huht,
    Let me hear it from the avi-ans,
    oooh-oooh,
    avies in the house,
    oooh-oooh, uh-huh, uh-huh.

    Let me hear it from the avi-ans,
    oooh-oooh,
    avies in the house,
    oooh-oooh, uh-huh, uh-huh.

    Mired deep in pain and thought, I had a near-miss head-on collision at the top of the Quarry climb. Usually when I get to the house and the paved section at the top of the climb, I kind of zone out and relax because the steep hills are done at that point. So it was today. As I gazed blurrily at the ground rolling by under my down tube, nibbling at my water teat, I sensed (probably heard the tires crackling on the gravel road) something in the air and looked up just in time to see an MTBer at the top of a very short, steep rise just above me, and hurtling down. Thanks to my spirit guides for reflexes. Instantly, we both flinched our bikes to the right, avoiding a high-speed head-on by a matter of two feet and hundredths of seconds. What I thought was cool was that neither of us freaked or got pissed or felt any type of emotion about it. Just in the blur of our passing, we made eye contact and he said "sorry" and I said "yup" and everything was right. Two riders who understood the reality of serious riding and in the course of one split-second experience, bonded as mountain bikers over the shared adrenaline rush of our near miss.

    Oh boy. I took a huge tumble on the little side stitch coming down the upper Quarry. The stitch is a tight little singletrack that has been eroded into a foot-deep, six-inch-wide trench that winds down the steep, tight piece of trail. I was going a little too fast and sure enough, my front wheel got routed into the trench, and I was ass over teakettles faster than you can say "what's your co-pay?" I flipped right over the bars and landed on my back in a huge bramble patch perched on the steep downhill side of the trail. Blue landed on top of me. My head was facing downhill. I could not get any traction to flip over and get myself facing uphill. I felt like an overturned turtle. Finally, I got uncontorted and crawled back up to the trail.

    The bramble absolutely saved me from serious injury because I could have tumbled a long way down the steep hill if the bramble hadn't snagged me. And it cushioned my fall a lot. On the down side, my neck and left shoulder flat out killed to the extent that at first I could not get back on the bike because I couldn't use my left arm. Also, I noticed that the bramble patch was rife with poison oak. Uh-oh. I like to go with the Bonzai philosophy on poison oak, which is that getting it or not getting it is an exercise in mind over matter. I felt like that had worked for me before, so I wished it away and went about the business of trying to get down the rest of this side spur without killing myself. Understandably and predictably, I was pretty skittish for the rest of the ride.

    Out at Mavericks, the sun was massive and orange. Framed under a shelf of clouds and the edge of Pillar Point, it looked like the third Tribedean moon of Ceti Alpha Six.

    Damn, I'm seeing more fuzz around here these days than a junior high school gym teacher (See March 8, 2005: Go blog yourself). There was another search and rescue session going on in the Fitz today. They had three vehicles, and about 15 guys scrambling around on the cliffs.

     

    Mileage: 22.65 Time: 2:05:39 Avg: 10.8 Max: 27.0 Weight: 169.5

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