Countdown to 50,000

On top of Hoover Dam last month

I've added a new counter to the upper right corner of the blog. That's because I'm closing in on 50,000 miles of cycling since I bought a "proper" bike on June 1, 2004, and officially began training for my first AIDS/LifeCycle ride two years later. (I'm now on my third bike since then.)

When will I hit 50k? What am I going to do for the occasion? That's the type of thing that's almost impossible for me to predict, since I really don't know from one day to the next whether I'll ride or how much. The smart money says it will be in early July. And there just happens to be a 200km RUSA event in Santa Cruz in early July, but I'm not at all certain I want to do it; it's yet another trip mostly up and down Highway 1, and I get enough of that between ALC and DBD.

But maybe I'll think of something special, and maybe I'll be able to not do it by myself. In the meantime, one of the best ways to congratulate me on 50k will be to support my DBD2 ride to benefit the San Francisco AIDS Foundation.

DBD2 get-acquainted ride (6/23/2012)

Date: Saturday, June 23
Meet time: 9:30 a.m.
Ride-out time: 10:00 a.m.
Meeting place: Parking lot at Villa and Franklin streets, Mountain View (across from the Tied House) (map)
City: Mountain View
Rain policy: Rain cancels
Category: 2 - moderate pace (10-12 mph)
Terrain: 3 - rolling hills with some steep hills
Miles: 32

Description:
Double Bay Double 2 is coming up in just three short months, so let's have a pre-season get-acquainted ride. You don't have to be a registered DBD2 rider to participate; ALCers, Seismic veterans, DSSFers, and everyone else is invited. (What a great way to reconnect with your ALC11 friends!) Bring your questions about DBD2, and I'll do my best to answer them ... and then go home and register at doublebaydouble.org.

Our route today is not very long, but it's got a few hills -- none of them stupidly steep or long, but perhaps a couple that might be new to you. From our starting point in downtown Mountain View, we'll head into Los Altos Hills and check out the backroads for a few miles before going to Menlo Park for our rest stop and a counterclockwise trip around the Portola loop. After passing through the Arastradero nature preserve, we'll head back into Palo Alto where we'll do one last climb before our easy return to Mountain View.

Total climbing for this ride is about 2,000 feet. Find out more about DBD2 here.

This ride is Caltrain-friendly; the first southbound train from San Francisco arrives in Mountain View at 9:29 a.m.

Click here to RSVP now
RSVPs are recommended but not required.

AIDS/LifeCycle 11 epilogue

Me at the almost-empty Rest Stop 3 on Day 1

It's been two days since I've returned from ALC11, and this week certainly seemed like none of my previous rides.

What did I do the day after Day 7? I rode my bike ... another 30 miles. And I probably could have kept going. This was the first time that I ever went for a ride on the day immediately after ALC. I'm not exactly sure why I did it, but it felt right this time ... almost as if I had to prove to myself that I could do so.

And that was one of my big themes for the week. One of my tendencies is to think that I'm not "good enough" at things. Perhaps that comes from being immersed in this overachieving Valley of Crazy, perhaps it's my increasing distance and isolation from the young guns of said Valley of Crazy, or perhaps it's just my interesting upbringing. In the year since I started using Strava, I've been reminded with every ride that I'm at best just a slightly above-average cyclist in the grand scheme of things. And that probably bothers me more than I realize.

When I think I'm not good enough at something, I try to compensate. In the case of cycling, I compensate by cutting my rest stop time to the absolute minimum, allowing my elapsed time to keep pace with riders who are in reality much faster than me. And since I seem to have acquired a reputation in the ALC community as a "fast" rider, I've felt more pressure to uphold that reputation, even at the expense of missing out on some fun. As the numbers on Strava so brazenly point out, many of our Distance Training riders are actually (much) faster than me.

But being faster on the ride this year -- at least in terms of elapsed time, if not in-motion time -- meant that I also missed much of the spontaneous ALC community. During the ride, this didn't particularly bother me. After the ride, I began to lament the missed opportunity ... even though I might not have actually enjoyed becoming immersed in it. Riding into a thinly-populated VA Center on Day 7 was undoubtedly far less stimulating and rewarding than it would have been had I waited a few more hours for a larger, more welcoming crowd to form.

Like my Day 7 experience, I spent most of the week riding my ride and not anyone else's. That's a big change for me because I spend almost the entire rest of the year wearing my training ride leader hat. It's a role I deeply enjoy and treasure, and turning it off even for just one week makes me feel as if I'm letting other riders down by not always being there for them. I know that TRLs have no official role on the event, but I regret not being able to help more riders make it through the week. (I hope that my Facebook posts and blog entries helped at least a bit.)

The post-ride blues

So, yes, the post-ride blues are real. They haven't fully set in yet, but I can feel them on the way. It's always tough to return to the real world from the ALC "love bubble." People just don't behave the same way, and I normally get frustrated enough anyway when I have to deal with idiots.

I helped delay their onset -- and, possibly, minimize them -- by hastily arranging an impromptu group dinner Sunday night in Mountain View. Our group of 10 was fun and boisterous, and it gave many of us -- plus some of our supporters who didn't get to do the ride this year -- a welcome opportunity to get together and talk about the week.

Physically, I'm still waiting for my body to realize it's no longer being tortured. I was very tired for most of today, and I decided not to attempt a ride tonight. But I know that getting back on the bike is a key step in post-ALC recovery, so I hope to do so again very soon, even though my new employment makes that a bit more difficult for the time being.

If you're having a case of the blahs this week, understand that it's very common and you're not alone. Reach out to your ALC community for support, plan activities that make you feel good, and ease your body back into its normal mode of operation.

Some more random observations

-- Either the quality of Motel 6s along the route has gone down significantly in the past two years, my standards have risen, or a combination of both. I had unusually unsatisfactory experiences at all four (King City, Santa Maria, Lompoc, and Ventura), mostly involving poorly functioning air conditioners and sketchy non-ALC patrons. As a devoted ALC princess, I might have to upgrade my accommodations next year.

-- Not to get too overly personal, but I needed less butt butter this year than on any previous ALC. This seems to be a good thing.

-- For the first time, I did not take off my leg warmers during the entire ride. I switched between heavier and lighter weight warmers, but it never got hot or even too warm. And I used less than one bottle of sunscreen for the whole week.

-- Also for the first time, I wore a top base layer on most days, usually removing it partway through as temperatures increased. This made the chilly mornings far more endurable.

-- For every day of the ride, I was either in line to ride out immediately at route opening, or I was on the road within 10 to 15 minutes of opening. Even if you're not a faster rider, getting on the road early gives you generally more enjoyable conditions. And as we learned on Day 2, it made the difference for many riders between being allowed to ride the entire route and ending the day on a rain-soaked bus.

-- I made a concerted effort to eat more during the event, and I think this contributed greatly to my lack of a Queen B*tch From Hell day. My weight appears to have ended the event roughly where it began.

-- I don't usually get scared or terrified when descending; I take it slowly enough that I don't ... and if I do, I slow down. I think I might have given an incorrect impression in describing my descents during the week. That said, I still managed to hit 32.9 mph on Day 1 -- my fastest speed ever on a bicycle -- and exceeded 30 mph several times during the week. If I descended as quickly as everyone else, my average pace would probably be much higher, but I'm not feeling any such need.

The takeaway

I went back and read my ride report from ALC9. It's amazing how much of my conclusion to that ride report could just as easily be from last week:

The takeaway is that every day of this year's ride was my fastest ever for that day. I'm quite surprised and pleased.

... By hurrying through rest stops and skipping several entirely, I made my way to near the front of the group on most days. This happened early on some days, but it took me until past lunch on some other days. This put me among riders who generally outclass me in every way -- they're faster overall, they climb faster, and they certainly descend faster.

... But the upside was that I was able to ride solo for large parts of the route -- not seeing any riders in front of me or behind me for miles at a time. This was wholly unexpected, but it was my greatest pleasure of the week: being able to ride essentially by myself down the California coast, but still with full support if I needed it and a welcoming community at the end of each day. I never dreamed that I would find solitude on ALC, but I did this year, and that made all the difference in the world.

Also, spending the week with Adam (only for three days on ALC11, not the whole week) was a change from last year, when I stayed solo in all but one of my motel rooms. Last year I often felt disconnected from the ride, but this year I had an understanding soul to help me decompress after each day of riding ... and to gently prod me into getting up and getting out the next morning. I'm now convinced that the Princess Plan works much better when done with someone else.

Sure, my numbers have changed -- for the better -- in the past two years. But did anything else really change? Was this week really unlike my previous ride weeks? Can I ever find what I'm truly looking for on ALC? Do I even know what that might be?

Those are questions that, even if I knew the answers, go far deeper than a ride report. I might have to keep riding until I figure them out.

In the meantime, I'm registered for ALC12, and soon it will be time to shift gears and focus on this September's Double Bay Double 2. Thanks to all my donors, the Distance Training riders and leaders, the roadies, the staff, the volunteers, and everyone else who is part of this unique community. Thanks to all who read these almost-real-time reflections; I hope they helped you think a little more deeply about your own experiences during the event.

My adventure isn't over, and I hope you'll continue to join me.

AIDS/LifeCycle 11 Day 7

It's over, and my ride was a greater success than I could have possibly imagined.

I rode surprisingly strong today and rolled into a relatively empty VA Center in Los Angeles at the stupidly early time of 10:43 a.m.

How and why? Nothing special; just by skipping one of the three stops and by beating much of the weekend vehicular traffic mess through Malibu.

Just like yesterday, it was a day for pure riding. Although I began my ride 10 minutes after the official route opening, there weren't many riders on the road, and I quickly was either by myself or in scattered small groups. After making short order of Rest Stop 1, we were even more spread out.

But I stopped, quite a bit in shock, when I saw Ginger Brewlay and Team Ventura's "Mom and Dad" standing by the side of the road just after Rest Stop 1! They were a total surprise and most appreciated. After skipping Rest Stop 2, I was essentially by myself. And after a hasty lunch, I saw just a few other ALCers the rest of the way.

But I saw plenty of other riders because Pacific Coast Highway is an extremely popular cycling spot. It was strange to be back in the world of riders doing pacelines, not calling out, and not obeying laws. I smiled just a bit inside when a Los Angeles County sheriff's vehicle had three cyclists pulled over, apparently for running a red light.

After I woke up and discovered that my quads weren't bothering me nearly as much as they had on previous mornings (perhaps due to the wonderful massage I received yesterday in Santa Barbara), I was focused on riding strongly. A couple of the hills gave me pause, simply because I was feeling all climbed out by this point. But other than that, the 62 miles of the final day of ALC11 were over almost as soon as they began.

And as I got near the end, something interesting happened. After I took a self-picture at the Los Angeles city limit sign (which, sadly, is slightly marred by a blurry spot on the camera lens), I almost immediately checked out emotionally from the event. It was, for all practical purposes, done for me. As I rode the final 5 miles up the hill through Santa Monica, I was getting scattered cheers from the few bystanders who had arrived so early, and I was smiling in return and thanking them, but I was on autopilot.

When I rolled into the VA Center in past years, my emotions have been all over the map. I've been jubilant, I've been in tears, I've been relieved that it was over. Today, strangely, I didn't feel much of anything at all. I rode through the almost-empty welcoming line into bike parking, got my triumphant photo taken by a helpful volunteer, walked around for a few minutes, and then got a ride from Adam to his hotel room and a nice, warm shower. And then I drove home.

What a strange way to end such an incredible week! I'm not sure what exactly happened this morning. I knew that I had to be rested to return to work early Monday, and part of me decided that trying to drive back tomorrow would have simply left me stressed out and not in good shape to work on Monday.

Another part of me had probably gone into emotional overload and had simply shut down after seven days of so much intensity and so many people. I felt bad for missing many of you on Saturday afternoon, but I also realized that I'd be seeing almost all of you again real soon anyway ... and doing so after we've all had time to recover and can have more proper chats about our experiences.

And it turns out to have been a very wise decision indeed to come home tonight. Sitting at my front door, rather unexpectedly, was a Saturday FedEx delivery from my employer. I won't go into the details, but I'll note that it was good news, it was unexpected, and it really should not have been sitting exposed at my front door! Who knows what would have happened had I not returned until tomorrow and never known that something was supposed to be there. As I said earlier in the week, everything happens for a reason.

Now for the statistics. On every previous ALC that I did, I always brought along a reference card showing my day-by-day pace for each year. This year, however, I specifically didn't do that because I didn't want to feel the pressure of competing against my previous years.

Of course, as you know by now from reading this, that wasn't a concern. Here are my stats from six years of ALC, in average miles per hour by day:

	ALC5	ALC6	ALC7	ALC8	ALC9	ALC11
Day 1	13.3	12.8*	13.5	13.3	14.1	16.4
Day 2	14.5	14.0	14.1	14.2	15.2	16.2
Day 3	13.2	11.9	13.6	12.8	13.8	16.1
Day 4	13.6	12.7	13.3	12.3	14.0	15.3
Day 5	12.0	11.0	12.1	11.4+	12.8+	14.5
Day 6	13.1	13.2	12.9	9.7^	14.0	15.7
Day 7	13.3	12.3	13.2	13.9	14.2	15.9

Notes:

* = Longer, more difficult route along upper Skyline to Hwy. 84

+ = Longer, more difficult route via Solvang

^ = Route truncated at 15 miles due to heavy rain

I am going to allow myself a moment or two of happiness over those stats! But I'll also quickly point out that I was on a new bike this year, which made a difference ... and this year's winds were generally very favorable, which also helped. But the overall trend shows that, although I might not make quantum leaps in performance from one year to the next, the seven-year trend (counting the year that I skipped ALC) is quite favorable and perhaps even satisfactory.

Of course, I don't do all this just so I can gloat over numbers. I do it because we're all working together to provide services and treatment to those affected by HIV and AIDS. Thanks to my donors for helping me reach my $5,000 goal this year, and thanks to all the donors for taking us above $12.6 million for ALC11. Your support saves lives.

What's next? We need to be very careful about the post-ride blues that often hit. Be sure to schedule activities that make you comfortable, with people you like. And take some time off the bicycle (and get it serviced, especially after all that rain and mud), but get back on it again soon and remember the feelings you had while riding this week.

And of course, I'll be back in late July with the Double Bay Double 2 training ride series. Watch for details soon.

It's late for me now, so I'll wrap this one up. I'll do a separate epilogue tomorrow or Monday, hitting some of my overall themes for the week and some final impressions and helpful tips that I can take forward into next year's ride.

Again, giant thanks to everyone who was part of my quasi-interactive conversation this week. It was a new experience for me, and it made the week much different than it had been before ... and much different than I expected. It's wonderful living in the future, isn't it.

P.S.: My story of the bungled Halfway to L.A. photo has a surprise happy ending! Unknown to me at the time, super ride leader Paul's mother took a cellphone picture of me at the same time the mystery rider was taking the lost pictures with my own camera. When I woke up at 2 a.m. today for no particular reason, the photo was waiting in my email inbox after she heard of my plight. What a pleasant surprise!

AIDS/LifeCycle 11 Day 6

Today was a day just to ride.

By this point in the week, the routine has become, well, routine: Wake up stupidly early, eat a big breakfast, prep the bike, ride, ride, eat, ride, eat, sleep, repeat. The body becomes so conditioned to doing one thing (cycling) well that trying to do almost anything else (such as walking down a flight of stairs) becomes unusually difficult.

And by the sixth day, the terrain, rest stops, and other riders all seem to blend into one giant non-stop blur. Part of you is amazed that you're still at this and going strong on the sixth consecutive day, but part of you also wants it to be mercifully over as soon as possible.

So it was with hugely mixed feelings that I did my sixth day of ALC11. I rode respectably but not stupidly fast, and again by limiting my stops, I finished somewhere between 80th and 90th of all riders. But my average pace was "only" 15.7 mph -- a pace that many of my friends easily exceeded today. How? We had several giant descents. And while none of them really scared or terrified me today, I did take them somewhat conservatively, generally keeping my speed to around 25 mph or less. (My maximum speed of the day was only 29.7 mph, a far cry from the 50-plus mph I've seen elsewhere. That also kept my overall average pace way down today.) I've seen too many ALC ambulances to want to go any faster, but more power to those of you who are comfortable doing so safely.

The big surprise of the day was a new route into and through Santa Barbara. This was something I'd been stewing about for years: Our old route roamed around the foothills north of the city, with hill after hill after hill -- none of them particularly long, but some of them rather steep. Meanwhile, a nice almost-flat official bike route runs close to U.S. 101 most of the way. I have no idea why the flat route hadn't been used in previous years, but we used it today, and I liked it. Yes, there were a lot of traffic signals, but that type of urban riding (particularly at this point in the week) provides plenty of short breaks from sustained riding. Granted, not everyone liked the route; I heard one rider say, "Now I can say I've seen the butt end of Santa Barbara."

At the nicer end of Santa Barbara was, for the 12th year, the Paradise Pit, the wonderful unofficial rest stop put on by local residents. Sometimes I've skipped it, and sometimes I've visited only briefly, but today I skipped Rest Stop 3 (just 4 miles back) so I could visit the pit and enjoy some delicious ice cream.

I knew that massage therapists had been set up there in previous years, but I was too early last time and they weren't ready. Today, as I was getting ready to leave, one of the therapists was just setting up his table. I asked when he'd be open, and he said he'd be open in a just a minute and I could be his first client. Score! I got some much-needed work on my legs, which certainly helped me get through the rest of the day.

After Santa Barbara, the route was again familiar and was, honestly, a bit of a slog through a slice of suburbia that I don't find all that exciting. I reached the water stop at mile 70, where Thomas told me that I was rider #102 for the day. I hadn't really been keeping score till then, but that shocked me somewhat. Two years ago, when I last did the ride, I was "in the first 100" to arrive there! And that was when I was a bit slower than I am now.

Because I'm overly self-competitive and self-judgmental, I decided that could not stand. With only 15 miles to go, I decided that I would skip the final rest stop and ride directly into camp. Fortunately, it wasn't that tough a task (except for the condition of the bike lane on that part of Hwy. 1, which continues to deterioriate year after year), and I rolled into camp at about 2:15 p.m. with only about 60 more miles to go until Los Angeles.

Today was Ride With Chris Day on ALC11, and I was touched to see some of the green jerseys out there. (I'm sorry that I skipped Rest Stop 1, where super roadie Taryl was wearing one.) I saw a couple of you at rest stops, at lunch, or ride into camp at the end of the day, and that made me smile. The jersey was also quite the conversation-starter with my massage therapist at Paradise Pit!

I finished the day happy, which was my goal. Day 6 didn't make me grumpy, although I began to notice after riding that I hadn't eaten as much as I had on previous days, and I started venturing toward the realm of grumpiness. But returning to camp and cheering in riders, followed by a well-timed and robust traditional Italian dinner with Adam in downtown Ventura, put me back among the mostly cheerful, if a bit tired.

So yes, by this point, it's mostly just riding, and part of me just wants it to be over. But another part of me wants it to go on for a whole month. (I joked with some folks at lunch about doing the optional Day 8 ride to San Diego.) When I begin ALC week, I think of many things: the physical challenge, the community, the cause, the friends, the relationships. Year after year, I find satisfaction in many of these areas but not in others. And by this point in the ride, I begin to realize that I'm wired in such a way that I'm unlikely to ever find those things here ... or probably anywhere else. That sense of melancholy starts to permeate my view of the week and sends me down the road of unhappiness.

But then I also realize that I'm doing something that only a very small group of people can do, and I'm doing it with increasing ease every time I do it. More important, my activities throughout the rest of the year help enable others to participate in the ride and conquer their own challenges, whatever they may be. The ride helps me find meaning in my life in a way that nothing else does, and that's why I keep coming back year after year ... even when doing so forces me to confront my own inner demons.

Now, with just 60 miles of relatively easy (if a bit traffic-heavy) terrain left for tomorrow morning, the end of this magical week is almost here. My impending return to the real world begins to be a tangible thing, and that makes me sad. But knowing that we're less than two months away from the start of the DBD2 training season makes me happy. I want to ride strongly tomorrow, but I also want the ride to be over. I want to do this forever, but I want to go home.

It is with these mixed feelings that I prepare for the final day of ALC11.

(The bottom photo is of me today approaching the top of Gaviota Pass and was taken by Frank Adair.)

AIDS/LifeCycle 11 Day 5

This whole same-day ALC blogging thing is quite unusual. It's enabling me to have a conversation with many of you -- both on and off the event -- while the event is in progress, which is providing a fascinating feedback loop that appears to actually be helping me through the week. My ride today, while only 42 miles that were tough in places but not overly challenging, left me in very high spirits but definitely ready for a long rest tonight in preparation for our final two days.

Yesterday's observations about teams apparently resonated with many of you, both in public and private comments that I received. It's reassuring for me -- although it really shouldn't be much of a surprise, either -- to see that others often feel the same way that I do. And today was the biggest "team" event of all: Red Dress Day.

So how did I respond to Red Dress Day? Well, I chose the other "acceptable" option: Dress in Red Day. And through a combination of good riding and favorable conditions, I finished the route in just over 3.5 hours, making me apparently the 10th cyclist to arrive in camp, well before any of the camp services. Being 10th today, however, is at best a feat that comes with a giant asterisk: Many other riders were far faster, but they chose to enjoy themselves more at the rest stops and/or ride around Lompoc before heading to camp.

If I were to analyze today's performance, I would probably conclude that after yesterday's tough day, I again felt the need to prove something to myself, even if the accomplishment carried that giant asterisk. And, yes, as ever the outsider, I was more than happy to quickly get into and out of today's stops and share the road with only a few other riders. (Many of the truly fast riders that I saw were even less into the spirit of Red Dress Day than was I.) Just how not-fast was I? My pace today was only 14.5 mph, by far my slowest of the week.

Two things stood out on today's route. First, much of the route was new to me (and some of it was new to everyone this year) because I skipped last year's ride, so I had the rare pleasure of riding in ALC on unfamiliar roads. With so much of today's route on city and suburban streets, I was generally happy because I tend to enjoy such conditions. Second, on the parts that weren't new to me, I hadn't cycled on them in four years because ALC8 and ALC9 used the alternate, longer route through Solvang. So I hadn't been through Casmalia or Vandenberg AFB since ALC7.

And I can truly say, without boasting too much, that I could really tell how my cycling has improved in those four years. The hills that once gave me great grief, hills that I often couldn't conquer without stopping, today were hills that, yes, were noticeable hills but really weren't all that bad to me ... even the 1.2-mile "ant hill" up Highway 1 to Vandenberg. When I reached the top of that hill, the last big climb of the day, I was the happiest I'd been so far this week.

So it didn't take much for me to push on into camp far earlier than I had planned. When I arrived at lunch (which, today, was a mere 3 miles from camp), I found out that I was the 35th cyclist to arrive. (Incidentally, I left camp this morning in Santa Maria a full half-hour after route opening. Nearly everybody else had more common sense than I and enjoyed the route in other ways.) I quickly ate half the lunch, put the rest in my pack, and flew with a healthy tailwind for the final push into camp.

And there was almost nothing there. We had the one temporary rack for bike parking, but the gear trucks, shower trucks, and everything else weren't even close to arriving. When my gear truck finally arrived, I help the roadies unload the truck, not just because it was a big help after one of our roadies cut his finger and couldn't move luggage, but also purely out of self-interest to get my bag faster. (And, naturally, my bag was one of the last ones to come off the truck, so I did a lot of helping.)

Why did I want to get my bag faster? Because Adam (who rode with me in ALC9), my ride for today and the rest of the week, had arrived from Los Angeles and was waiting for me at the camp entrance. So, by about 1 p.m., we were checked in to our posh Motel 6 and ready for some much-needed rest and relaxation.

Of course, we couldn't stand to do just that for the next 16 hours, so we drove out to the coast at Surf to see the oddly-placed Amtrak station and the various military accoutrements (complete with a Vandenberg guard patrolling the train station and looking rather oddly at us more than once). And after a huge pizza at favorite local spot Mi Amore, it's back to the room to write today's entry ... and then off to bed because, yes, I'm quite tired after five days of this.

Today's short ride was just what the doctor ordered, not just because of how I was feeling yesterday, but also because today should give me the much-needed physical recovery to be strong for the rest of the week. I'm not planning to try for any speed records on tomorrow's 83-mile ride to Ventura. (I know; I've said that all week.) My primary goal for the rest of the week is to finish happy, since Day 6 is often when I've had my most severe outbreaks of grumpiness. If I get to tomorrow and decide that my pursuit of happiness calls for faster riding , then so be it ... but it might also be a day to enjoy our miles along the very edge of the Southern California coast.

Thanks for reading these ride reports and for being part of my almost-real-time conversation. If you've already supported one or both of my rides this year, thank you! If not, and if you're able to do so, I'd like to direct you to my fundraising page for this year's Double Bay Double 2. It's the same important cause: the San Francisco AIDS Foundation. And while it's not as long as ALC or nearly as big, it's a daunting challenge of back-to-back century rides, something that exceeds even ALC. If you're a cyclist who's interested in riding with us on September 29 and 30 from Mountain View to Marina and back, please feel free to check out the event website to learn about registration. As of today, there are only 27 cyclist positions left before the ride fills.

Check back tomorrow for my report from Ventura!

AIDS/LifeCycle 11 Day 4

It's said that participating in AIDS/LifeCycle exposes your most raw inner feelings and emotions. And I've never attempted extensive same-day blogging of one of my ALC rides. For you, gentle reader, this means that you're getting exposed to both my physical journey through the week and my mental one. (Remember when I kept saying during our training season that the ALC challenge is as much mental as it physical?) This might be a good thing, or it might be a bad thing.

Today's bottom line: I finished a tough 97 miles in respectable time but not stupidly fast. Nothing serious happened along the way. But I fought grumpiness much of the way. And that's where the raw emotions come in.

I didn't start today grumpy, really. I slept reasonably well, I had a good breakfast, and I was in line for the 6:30 ride-out. My legs were somewhat tired and worn out from riding too hard this week, although they weren't hopelessly gone. But within the first 7 miles, I had settled into a deep funk. Why? Teams. I'll try to explain.

Because today is "halfway to L.A. day," many of the organized groups of riders wear their team attire so that they can get group pictures taken at the signs marking the halfway point of our journey -- which, incidentally, at 1,762 feet above sea level is also the highest elevation we reach during the week. Don't get me wrong: Teams are wonderful things, especially for all the fundraising they do. Some teams make me smile, but some others evoke a viscerally negative reaction in me. Which teams those are, and the reasons why I feel that way, aren't important ... and they're petty and immature anyway. (Besides, if you know me well, you can probably make some educated guesses that are spot on.)

So, in those first few miles today, several teams came flying by me in pack formations, all in their matching kits and all looking oh-so-wonderful. I began to stew inside, not because of anything they did, just because they are ... and because they were passing me so effortlessly. (I told you it's petty and immature.) And my sour mood began to affect my thinking. As Rest Stop 1 approached at mile 9, I was already in the mood to take a break, eat more than I would normally eat so early in the day, and try to chill out. But, I thought to myself, if I do so, then I'll just be hanging out with all these teams and probably getting even more grumpy. But if I don't eat and drink, I'll be even more grumpy on my way up the Evil Twins.

It seemed like a lose-lose situation. At the very last minute, as I was slowing to turn into bike parking at the rest stop, I changed my mind and decided to ride on through. I was still grumpy, but I stopped about half a mile up the road and had a bag of my "emergency" Sport Beans.

They say that everything happens for a reason. As I began my long, slow slog up the first Evil Twin, I slowly approach fellow Distance Training rider (and top 10 ALC11 fundraiser) Frank. We begin to chat about the ride and our training, I compliment him on his improved performance since last year, and he compliments me on the training season. Within just a few minutes, I'm not grumpy anymore. Had I stopped at the rest stop, I likely wouldn't have seen Frank until much later in the day, if at all. He enjoyed the downhill from the first Evil Twin while I stayed back in my usual conservative descent style, and I slowly approached him again on the second one. This time, I went ahead and took an action shot of him passing the sign proclaiming the 1,762-foot elevation, since he'd told me that he didn't plan to stop at "halfway to L.A." Now, my day was good!

The 9-mile descent to the coast is never one of my favorite parts of the week, again because of how I descend. Today, some rather stiff crosswinds on part of the descent made it even a little more hectic (although, with the clear skies, it was among the most scenic Day 4 descents I've ever done). But skipping the rest stop had put me far enough ahead that there were few other riders flying by me, and those who did generally called out politely, a vast improvement from what I experienced some other years.

After a few miles along the coast -- where the expected strong tailwinds had not yet materialized -- I finally took a rest stop at mile 33. While I was there, one of those teams started to arrive en masse, and yes, I began to get grumpy again. (I told you: really petty and really immature.) I cut my visit short and hit the road again for a fairly easy ride into Morro Bay, where temperatures were surprisingly warm. At mile 42, I took part in what seems to have become a Day 4 tradition for me: having comfort food at the Subway in Morro Bay and skipping the official lunch stop in San Luis Obispo. Really, by this point in the week, a meatball sandwich truly improves my mood, and it did so again today. (Plus, perhaps subconsciously on my part, it kept me from running into a certain team, save for two stray members, for the rest of the day.)

Today is both 97 miles and somewhat hilly, much of it in pesky, annoying hills that don't qualify as individual accomplishments but which add up and wear you out as the day goes on. Plus, as we went from inland to the coast and back again repeatedly, the temperature kept varying wildly, causing me to alternately shed and re-don the multiple layers of clothing I needed this morning when the temperature in Paso Robles was hovering in the low 40s. So I was somewhat worn out, although I responded by simply not trying to power my way up any of the various hills. My low gear can get me there eventually, and it did -- and my average pace for the day of 15.3 mph is, I believe, still my fastest-ever Day 4.

And I finished happy, not grumpy. The usual tailwinds into Santa Maria were out in force, and I got a pleasant surprise in camp when Paolo showed up and offered me a ride to my motel. So again, tonight I'm riding an adrenaline-fueled emotional high, and I'm looking forward to tomorrow's 42-mile route to Lompoc, some of which will be new to me. I'm also looking forward to Adam, fresh from his most recent world travels, joining me in Lompoc to shadow us for the rest of the week.

But yes, today certainly exposed and laid bare some of my deep issues, in ways far beyond the ones I'm comfortable sharing here. It wasn't by any means a Queen B*tch From Hell day, not even close, and the feelings are the same feelings I have at some point just about every year during the event.

ALC's new motto is "You Belong Here," which I've said before resonates deeply with me. There just happen to be teams where I most certainly would not belong (and, I suspect, I really wouldn't want to do so anyway) -- and I'm well aware that some folks probably think of Ride With Chris in much the same way. Yet we've all done the fundraising and/or provided the roadie support, and we've all made the commitment to do this event, so yes, everyone here is a hero, etc., and is deserving of nothing less than respect and admiration. And although I can write about such things here, I still have those ugly feelings when it happens in person.

That's one of the big things that keeps me from enjoying the ride as much as many of you would like me to, and it probably is one of the big reasons why I ride the way I do. Check in again with me after tomorrow's Red Dress Day!

There was one true disappointment to the day, however. When I stopped at "halfway to L.A.," I actually got in line to get my picture taken in the traditional celebratory pose: standing on a rock, holding my bike upside-down and above my head, above an appropriate sign, with the ocean in the background 1,762 feet below. A helpful roadie took my bike and handed it to me after I stood on the rock, and another helpful rider offered to take my picture twice with my camera. But when I checked my camera at the end of the day, neither of those pictures were there. No idea what happened. Sigh.