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DBD2 training ride #1: Woodside (7/21/2012)

Date: Saturday, July 21
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: 40

Description:
The training season for DBD2 is officially under way! We begin by going "only" as far as Woodside, but we've got a somewhat hilly route to get there. We'll start by visiting the quarry in Los Altos Hills and climbing Elena Road behind Foothill College. Then it's a familiar route through the Arastradero nature preserve, around the backside of the Portola loop, and into Woodside for our rest stop.

After that, we'll head partway up CaƱada Road and then take Jefferson Avenue back to the valley floor -- which, incidentally, involves a 0.7-mile climb before we can descend. We close with an easy route along Alameda de las Pulgas, Junipero Serra Blvd., and Foothill Expressway back into Mountain View.

Strava reports about 2,250 feet of climbing for this ride.

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.

Ride report: Climb to (Half) Kaiser, 6/30/2012

Photo credit: John Walker/The Fresno Bee
While the Climb to Kaiser is best known as a grueling 155-mile ride, there are also somewhat mellower options for mere mortals like myself. I've done the 70-mile metric(-plus) version several times, and I did the century ride once before, way back in 2005. After my recent cycling successes, I decided to return to Fresno this weekend to tackle "most" of the century route, including the 7.6-mile, 2,600-foot climb up old Tollhouse Road. This would be the ride that takes me past 50,000 total miles of cycling since I began training on June 1, 2004.

Why "most" of the century? On this year's ride, the century route continued an additional 6 miles past the top of Tollhouse and into Shaver Lake for lunch ... along very busy, winding, and narrow Highway 168. Add to that an extra 1,000 feet of climbing, and I had decided long before arriving that I was going to skip that out-and-back and do a still-robust ride of only about 85 miles. (As I learned during the day, many of the other century riders chose likewise.)

The day did not start smoothly, however. I left my hotel at 4:50 a.m. and drove the 6 miles to the starting point in Clovis. After I got there, I realized that I had left my Camelbak in my room! I quickly drove back and retrieved it, but by then I had just missed the 5:30 a.m. mass start -- and the associated police escort that provided free passage through all the traffic signals in Clovis.

I quickly got moving on my own. The police escorts must have been efficient; although I rode out at 5:36, they were completely gone by the time I got to every signal except for the very last one at mile 7. A couple of miles into the ride, as I was making a turn, I noticed another cyclist coming into the route from the other direction. He had his event number on, and he said, "We're so late!" I followed him for a couple of miles and to the next turn.

Then I realized that he'd made a wrong turn, as did I, and he was already out of sight. Fortunately, the streets are laid out in an almost-perfect grid, and I knew the area well enough that I was able to get back on the official route within a couple of miles. But I was all by myself, at the beginning of the ride where in the past I've been able to get some wind benefit from being in the large group of riders.

I left the trappings of the city and got out into the countryside, and still nobody else. Finally, around mile 12, I passed a rider stopped at an intersection. Then a couple miles later, a small paceline finally passed me. But it was clear that the vast majority of riders were way ahead of me. At first, this disappointed me, but then I decided that this was a good thing because that meant that they wouldn't be passing me all day long -- the Kaiser riders are notoriously strong.

As I entered Watts Valley Road, I began to see more signs of event life: an occasional SAG vehicle or motorcycle support, a rider or two. I'd last been out here in October 2010 with a small group from DSSF, and it was my first time here with the new bicycle and with Strava running. And I started overtaking cyclists. One here, another there. And nobody was passing me? I'm not overly fast on climbs, but I was approaching the tail end of the mass-start group.

Rest Stop 1
The first big climb of the day began at mile 24 -- which, by coincidence, was exactly mile 50,000 for me. Wildcat Grade is 3.6 miles with an average grade of only 5.2%, but that's highly misleading: Parts are downhill, parts are gently rolling, and, yes, parts are 16%, especially toward the end. And all the way up to the top, nobody passed me! I wasn't exerting myself all that much because I knew there were big climbs still to come, but I seemed to "fly" (if you can call 6 mph flying) by other riders all the way up the hill. And as I pulled into Rest Stop 1 at the top of the hill, I easily had a couple dozen riders behind me. It's a ride, not a race, etc., but yes, that made me happy.

A long descent, another climb (where, yes, a few folks finally did overtake me), and another short climb later, and I was at Rest Stop 2 at the base of the Tollhouse climb. This is where, in past years, I would have taken the metric route directly back to Fresno, but not today. My spreadsheet says my last climb up Tollhouse was on Sept. 10, 2006, and I distinctly remember that it was quite painful, taking 82 minutes to go from the Tollhouse Market to the top. (This is why I keep such detailed records!)

To get right to the good part: My time on this ride was 68 minutes. And it wasn't painful at all, except for the last half-mile or so where the average grade is 12% and some parts hit 20%. Again, I didn't push hard at all, and I probably could have shaved another couple minutes off my time if I had tried harder. But I was passing cyclists all the way up, including the one couple who said, "You make it look so easy!" I even skipped the water stop a mile from the top because I didn't want an interruption in my elapsed time for the climb (see also "The Strava Effect").

At the top at mile 48, about 4,600 feet up, the official route took the forementioned right turn up Highway 168. I stopped and dismounted and pondered my options. I certainly felt good enough to continue up to Shaver Lake, but I had decided earlier that I would not do so ... and since I had told the ride organizers of my plan, I didn't want to show up at Shaver Lake and use the rest stop services. Also, I knew that I had nothing extra to prove to myself today. Instead, I dismounted and ran quickly across the four-lane highway and picked up the route again at mile 59.

The rest stop issue wasn't an issue at all, because just a quarter-mile farther along the route was the next rest stop at Pine Ridge. I thought I was back in ALC! It was a luau-themed rest stop, complete with a volunteer in grass skirt and coconut bra with a garden hose to cool down overheated riders. (The temperatures weren't that warm yet.) Even better, a massage therapist was there with his table ... and since I had arrived early, I got to be his first client of the day. A few quick minutes, and my lower back was no longer complaining about the Tollhouse climb, and I was ready for the ride back to Fresno.

Since I'd just climbed to 4,600 feet, most of the remainder would be downhill, with an occasional break or two for small hills, but nothing significant at all. And it went quickly! When I reached Pine Ridge, my pace for the day to that point had been only 11.6 mph. But at the end of the day, I was at 14.1 mph, so you do the math.

I took the descents in my usual cautious way, but the new bicycle seems to have allowed me to slightly increase my speed ... I averaged 23 mph on the 10-mile descent (with a couple of uphill interludes) into Auberry. A quick rest stop near Millerton Lake, and as the mercury approached 90 degrees, I hit the final stretch back to Fresno.

As I rounded the last turn, I started to shift, and it wouldn't shift all the way, but I was able to complete the final half-mile without incident. I learned after the ride that my rear shifter cable had just failed (and it's being replaced as I write this). Imagine what would have happened if I had done the extra 11 miles!

My total riding time was 6:05 for just under 86 miles, at about 14.1 mph. When I last did the Tollhouse route seven years ago, I completed 100 miles (which didn't include the Shaver Lake out-and-back anyway, because it wasn't part of the route that year) in 8:34, for a pace of 11.7 mph. This was an appropriately uplifting way to reach 50,000 miles (and to exceed 1,100 miles in a month for my first time ever).

I arrived at the check-in desk and turned around so the staff could record my rider number. Because I had arrived before the scheduled 2 p.m. free dinner, I simply went back to my vehicle and headed back to my motel. Things seemed a bit subdued and a bit "off," I didn't know any of the other riders, and I really wanted a hot shower anyway.

What I did not know until later in the day was that there had been a fatality on the ride in the morning. It happened on a winding, steep, high-speed, high-altitude part of the route that only the full Kaiser riders use and that I hadn't been on. This was a painful reminder to me that descents are one of the most dangerous aspects of our sport ... and that I really don't need to gain five or six seconds on Strava at the risk of injury or death. In fact, the 10-mile, 23-mph decsent into Auberry -- the one that pleased me so much -- is actually the slowest descent ever recorded by anybody in Strava (out of 139 riders) for that segment.

The only other disappointment of the day was how motorists behaved in the higher elevations. Even though I was staying to the right and providing plenty of room to pass, one yahoo with a truck-style air horn attached to his 4x4 felt the need to repeatedly sound it as he stayed behind me and finally passed me more than a little too closely. And just outside Auberry on a reasonably flat stretch of road, another yahoo in a pickup coming in the opposite direction on a wide, two-lane road with a center line felt the need to yell "Idiot!" at me for no apparent reason. I know that cycling has become very popular in the mountainous areas where we are usually just guests -- and I also know that some cyclists behave like idiots as well -- but that's no excuse to lash out at everyone. I lived in Fresno for four years, so I had more than my share of run-ins with the colorful local population ... and it's one of the reasons why I don't go back there more often. The cycling scenery and variety are unmatched anywhere else in California, but it's not worth getting hit or run off the road.

But I'm glad I did my own personal abbreviated half-Kaiser yesterday. I was able to return to a route I'd not done in a long time, and I was able to reaffirm that, yes, I actually have become a better cyclist.

View more of The Fresno Bee's photos of the event here.

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:
ALC5ALC6ALC7ALC8ALC9ALC11
Day 113.312.8*13.513.314.116.4
Day 214.514.014.114.215.216.2
Day 313.211.913.612.813.816.1
Day 413.612.713.312.314.015.3
Day 512.011.012.111.4+12.8+14.5
Day 613.113.212.99.7^14.015.7
Day 713.312.313.213.914.215.9

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.)