Rain days are here to stay

I was hoping to hit another mountain top today or tomorrow, but the weather forecast is not looking good. It's true when they say Juneau only has two seasons ... Rainy and June. Now that June is over, I have a long season of tolerance-building ahead.

Today was a day for the gym, which I like to speak of disdainfully, but I really get a lot of benefit out of it. There's really no better way to train with weight resistance and build specific muscles that ideally will keep injury at bay. I plan to keep going at least once a week - if nothing else, to recoup some of that membership I bought during a panic attack back in April.

Rainy Season also is a good time for retail therapy. I turned to retail therapy back when I was injured and not cycling, and bought a lot of dumb stuff - like clipless pedals and short-sleeved bicycle jerseys. But my new string of purchases may prove to be a lot more rewarding. I recently received a check from the federal government that I wasn't expecting (who knew I was my own tax deduction?) This also will be my first year for the PFD check, the infamous "paid to exist" fund bestowed on every man, woman and child in the state of Alaska. A windfall of free money, and I have big plans ... including, but not limited to, a brand new bike building project!

Plans also include essential bike gear that has nothing to do with the bike, and everything to do with making it possible to ride my bike whenever and wherever I feel so inclined. My most immediate needs include neoprene socks (how oh how did I ever live without these?), a rear bike rack and a bivy sack. I'm torn on the bivy, and was wondering if there were some ultralight backpackers out there with good advice. Should I go with a warmer-but-heavier winter-specific sack, or the lightweight waterproof sack that would be tolerable where I live and terrible everywhere else?

If the forecast holds true, I'll probably spend way too much time surfing eBay for all the different options. Isn't it interesting how the act of not biking instigates a sudden and insatiable need to buy bike goodies? The wheels of the cycling economy must turn on working people whose income is inversely proportional to the time they have to ride. If all I did was ride my bike, I would probably just stick to my old and busted stuff and be happy all of my days.

Not pretty

Date: July 9
Mileage: 38.2
July mileage: 244.2
Temperature upon departure: 51

The day started out so well. Drizzling rain tapered off early. I rode a light tailwind out to the valley and managed some strong intervals on the Glacier spur road. Mileage increased rapidly, and just as I was thinking “this whole summer cycling thing is way too easy,” the brunt of the storm blew in.

It was the kind of storm that earns its own regional designation. I think in Juneau they’re called "Taku Blasts" or something equally ominous. But no matter where you are, these storms always feel the same to a cyclist - headwinds that suck the air out of your lungs, sideways rain that could pierce a helmet, and an unexpected drop in temperature. I fought the storm like an outnumbered conquistador all the way home, knowing defeat was imminent because I was going to have to maintain my early pace just to make it to work on time.

Do you ever look at yourself in the mirror after a ride like this? I try not to, but it’s like trying to look away when you pass a particularly disgusting lump of road kill. The bloodshot eyes caught my attention first - swollen and framed by dark shadows. My entire face was checkered with blotchy red patches and spatters of mud; wet hair clung to my forehead and dangled in snarled strands over my neck. To top it all off, I had a stream of snot oozing down my upper lip. I didn’t even notice it before because my entire face was numb, like my hands, but I still know attractive when I see it.

I always wonder how much of this image lingers even after I’m showered and blow-dried and sitting at my desk in my khaki pants and turtleneck. Can my co-workers tell how I’ve spent my morning? Is it obvious to anyone that just an hour earlier, my face looked like a half-rotten salmon laboring for breath in the shallow end of a creek? I may never know.

Baby fireweed

Date: July 8
Mileage: 25.1
July mileage: 206.0
Temperature upon departure: 54

The Fireweed 400 wrapped up this weekend. Geoff crinkled his face as I read him the results. "Who would want to ride on a road for 400 miles?" he asked. I would! I'm pretty bummed I couldn't get healthy in time to train and plan for this ride. I thought in passing a week ago about buying a plane ticket just so I could go out there and try to survive it, but I shed the thought pretty quickly. Luckily. But still I wonder ... how would it feel to be completely wrecked right now? Even if I ended up sprawled on the finish line, drooling and moaning, it would still feel so great to go full-bore into something and not worry about long-term consequences. Of course I would, though. That's why I'm not there.

As it is, I'm still trying to limit my recreational riding to four days a week, tops. It helps me avoid repetitive-motion flare-ups, and also build strength through other activities. I'd like to get out more often on my mountain bike, but the trails are starting to become icky. The rainy season approaches. And as fun as they are, I'm going to have to limit Sugar's BikeSwim outings if I want him to last another season. But the touring bike just keeps on plugging and plugging away, even as rust creeps across the bolts and bearings. It would have performed brilliantly in the Fireweed 400.

As for the rest of my "season," I'm shooting for a full-12-hour ride by the end of July, the 350-mile Canada loop in mid-August, and then more hiking to prepare for the Grand Canyon in September. None of that is racing, so I guess it's not very interesting. But it gives me enough goals to keep the edge on while I think about taking up Ultrasport training in October. Scary.