Kick'n it old school

Date: March 12
Mileage: 27.8
March mileage: 138.2
Temperature upon departure: 29
On the iPod: "When I Grow Up" ~ Garbage

This morning, Geoff decided - rather randomly - that he wanted to race the Kachemak Ski Marathon. The race started at 11 a.m. He got up, got ready, and got to the race start just in time to enter the 25K.

I dropped him off and took my car down to the end of the race, then went for a bike ride from there. The gravel roads were pretty sloppy today, and I'm still recovering from something or other (I don't exactly know what. I'm just not in my best physical form.) So the ride was a bit of a slog. It's strange because I felt great during a snowshoe hike yesterday - felt like sprinting to the top of the ridge because the hiking was so effortless. Maybe I'm just experiencing a touch of bike burnout.

Geoff was already back when I got home. He said he struggled to keep his balance and took a couple of big spills, but otherwise had a great race. He was one of the few - if not the only racer - skiing all-out old-school classic style (because there were no classic/skate divisions, and because it was in fact a race, it obviously made more sense for everyone to skate.) Geoff doesn't own skate skis. And he only recently learned how to ski at all - so skating was out of the question. Despite that fact, he still finished fairly high in the 25K - possibly even in the top 5 (disclaimer - there was also a 40K that most of the top skiers raced, and several finished before he did).

Still, I'm proud. Geoff and I both started skiing this season. But if I had entered the same race, I would still (now seven hours after the start) probably be lying at the bottom of some hill with a face full of snow and pole tip stuck in leg, so far in the back that there would be no racers and no checkpoint volunteers left to hear my cries.

At least I can ski vicariously through Geoff. And go for bike rides in half-frozen-solid slush piles. Ah, March.

From the cold sunlight

Date: March 10
Mileage: 31.2
March mileage: 110.4
Temperature upon departure: 18
On the iPod: "Third Planet" by Modest Mouse

Today I learned that by riding the most direct route, it takes me 17 minutes to bicycle commute to work. It's a 15-minute drive - 6 miles on winding roads, and you can't really leadfoot it much faster. So that's good news - I can never use being late to work as an exuse not to ride. Going home, of course, is another story. I haven't taken a direct route home yet, but I'm not looking forward to actually timing myself on that climb. The goal, I guess, is to get much faster at it. Right now I'm still happy if I can keep my speed above 5 mph on the 2.5-mile stretch that makes up most of the elevation gain. That's spinning in low gears on a full-suspension mountain bike, and I can't stand at all because the road surface is still too icy (I'd just spin out, sort of like a rear-wheel-drive truck with no sandbags in the back. My butt is the sandbag). So I'm thinking my time will improve significantly in the coming weeks (or months, given this current weather pattern) Wow. Look at me. I'm using my blog to justify for my own sake again.

The truth is, the climb today took a lot out of me - I was already tired from fighting headwinds during my sea-level ride, I was feeling a bit demoralized by how fatigued I was, and the lactic acid buildup was causing my stomach to ache (does that ever happen to anyone else? Or is it all in my head?) I guess that will just happen from time to time. Some days, you're just going to be a bit off. That was me today. I barely made it home in time to catch the arrival of our friends, down to visit from frigid Palmer. This weekend - more skiing.

Commuted

Date: March 9
Mileage: 23.4
March mileage: 79.2
Temperature upon departure: 17
On the iPod: "Mormon Rap" by early-90s BYU students

One of my resolutions for spring is to bicycle commute more often. Some people have asked me why I didn't commute more during the winter - after all, I wasted a lot of energy driving to and from work and then riding 10 to 40 miles afterward. Three words - I was scared.

Many people live in cities and have the luxury of choosing from a number of side roads to spin down on their way to town. I have but two choices, and they both involve:

* Dropping from my house, at 1,200 feet elevation, to near-sea level in 2.5 miles on
* a narrow, winding road with blind corners and steep drop-offs, riding alongside
* heavy rush-hour traffic, because everyone who lives on the Ridge has to take the same road out which
* just happens to relatively poorly maintained in the winter, meaning months on end of either glare ice/packed snow; soft, punchy sand/snow mix; or outright slush - all of which make general handling, control and braking distance less than ideal, especially on grades ranging from 7 to 11 percent.

Of course, I head down these roads all the time to go on joy rides. But winter commuting on East or West Hill means that I'd have to make both the cheek-rattling drop and the labored climb in the dark, on roads where street lights don't exist, with rush hour traffic whipping around every corner. Honestly, I'm all for going car-free. But that just seems suicidal, really.

Of course, now that it's light between 8 a.m. and 7 p.m., and now that there's a glimmer of hope that the roads will one day be dry again, I really don't have any more excuses. So my plan is to up my bicycle-to-car commuting ratio as the spring goes on, hopefully increasing to nearly every day by summertime.

But, as far as going entirely car free, you tell me ... how much would a gallon of milk be worth to you if getting it meant 10 round-trip miles with a 1,200-foot climb every time you ran out of something? On second thought, I bet I'd lose a lot of weight that way. Not because of the extra riding, but because I'd probably give up milk.

Go pedal power.