I can see Mt. Diablo from my front door. I look at the mountain as a thing of beauty, as well as a challenge.
One day in the last week or so, I decided to take a trip up to the Ranger Station, which lays about half way to the summit. As I was riding along I felt okay, not strong, but not too bad. I was eating, drinking, etc. I rode up on an older gentleman, I'm guessing in his mid 60's, or early 70's, riding a hybrid bicycle. I said good afternoon, and kept on pedaling.
About 20 minutes later the man rode up to my left hand side. (Keep in mind that I had passed him at a pretty good clip, and I hadn't slowed) He struck up a conversation with me. It turns out that he rides up to the mid point of the mountain 3 or 4 times a week, and to the top at least once a month. He always participates in the New Year's Day ride to the summit, and participates in the annual race to the top in October.
After chatting with me for about 10 minutes, he said goodbye and faded behind me as I kept pedaling up the hill. I made it to the ranger station, and climbed off my bike for a rest before the decent back home. As I filled up my water bottle and had a snack, I reflected on what the man told me. At that moment I decided that I couldn't settle for mid mountain. Not today.
That day I pushed myself and rode, once again, to the summit of Mt. Diablo. This time I used what I learned the first time. I took it easy around 'Devil's Elbow'. I took the time to take in the sights offered by the mountain. The Oakland hills. San Francisco. The Golden Gate Bridge. I had a respect for the last 200 yards (those who have ridden it know what I mean), and I didn't stop on the way up. I made it. On my own. I didn't need a team mate with me. I didn't have to stop and catch my breath. I did it. This time, it was all me.
Thank you, kind sir, for the motivation to keep on pedaling up to the top. For the inspiration to accomplish this task, and for the role model of being able to continue my passion for cycling as long as my legs can make a circle around the cranks. Thank you.
Monday, April 6, 2009
Sunday, April 5, 2009
I'm not really that good at this Blogging stuff yet...
Okay, I know, I know. I haven't updated my blog in a while. Lets be h0nest. I'm racking my brain to figure out what to say on a regular basis! Who really wants to read "I rode my bike today for 20 miles" over and over again. Yes, I've been riding. I've even been accumulating miles. The week before last (the one I missed), I rode about 85 miles, including a 45 mile ride on Saturday. Last week I rode about 115 miles, including a 55 mile ride on Saturday. See, that was easier than trying to regurgitate the whole week.
I do want to talk about yesterday's training ride with Team in Training. We started in Danville and rode out into the canyon. Our pace group of seven was riding strong. We were in a pace line, riding into winds and cross winds, often reaching 25 miles an hour and sustaining it. We all felt great.
To back up a bit, let's talk about how these rides are organized. The 80 or so cyclists included in TNT are split up into pace groups. Each pace group is made up of cyclists of relatively equal ability. I ride in the fastest pace group. Each group also has a coach, matched to the group's ability. Our coach is Dennis Guikema, a former category one racer. His ability on the bicycle is amazing! He can ride circles around even the fastest rider in our group, with one leg.
As we rode down Highland road, just about to turn right on Collier Canyon road, Dennis had the group pull over. He wanted to introduce us to a friend of his. His friend was Patrick Caurant. Patrick was a fellow racer and former teammate of Dennis who was tragically killed during a training ride at this very spot.
For me this was a very powerful moment. One that brought a concern of mine closer to home: the cars are everywhere, and any slip of concentration, judgement, mechanical failure, can lead to tragic results. If that can happen to a semi-professional racer, it can happen to anyone.
I'll continue to ride. To train. I'll keep this story in my heart, to remind me to keep it safe. And I'll do my best to live each day to it's fullest.
Thank you, again, Dennis, for leading us on a great ride. And for introducing us to your friend.
I do want to talk about yesterday's training ride with Team in Training. We started in Danville and rode out into the canyon. Our pace group of seven was riding strong. We were in a pace line, riding into winds and cross winds, often reaching 25 miles an hour and sustaining it. We all felt great.
To back up a bit, let's talk about how these rides are organized. The 80 or so cyclists included in TNT are split up into pace groups. Each pace group is made up of cyclists of relatively equal ability. I ride in the fastest pace group. Each group also has a coach, matched to the group's ability. Our coach is Dennis Guikema, a former category one racer. His ability on the bicycle is amazing! He can ride circles around even the fastest rider in our group, with one leg.
As we rode down Highland road, just about to turn right on Collier Canyon road, Dennis had the group pull over. He wanted to introduce us to a friend of his. His friend was Patrick Caurant. Patrick was a fellow racer and former teammate of Dennis who was tragically killed during a training ride at this very spot.
For me this was a very powerful moment. One that brought a concern of mine closer to home: the cars are everywhere, and any slip of concentration, judgement, mechanical failure, can lead to tragic results. If that can happen to a semi-professional racer, it can happen to anyone.
I'll continue to ride. To train. I'll keep this story in my heart, to remind me to keep it safe. And I'll do my best to live each day to it's fullest.
Thank you, again, Dennis, for leading us on a great ride. And for introducing us to your friend.
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