Like Lewis and Clark

I finally did it.
I went on a ride with a couple of die-hard mountain bikers.
We intended to ride in Ringwood, but had to go south to Allaire State Park to escape the snow, ice, mud and rain of northern Jersey.
It was well worth the trip.

Joe hoisted my old bike onto the roof of his zippy red Mazda and strapped it into the rack. His well-equipped, well-heeled bike eyed mine up and down in obvious distaste, questioning where we might be taking them together. Joe's bike was clearly ready to chew up roots and dirt and rocks and mountains while mine looked like it just wanted a good nap against a park bench, better yet, a final trip to the junkyard.

In the car on the way down, Joe and I talked about biking and music and motivation and inspiration and tons of other stuff that made the ride very comfortable and quick. When we got to the park, Charlie was waiting for us.

Instantly like-able, Charlie is quite a picture with his blazing pure white hair and beard. And don't be fooled by all that white stuff, he may not look like he's on the fast side of 50, but he's got the engine of a mountain lion.

We geared up and ducked in onto the trail. It was like entering the Amazon. Secretive and wild all around, we hopped onto a trail that was barely twelve inches wide. Within seconds we were roaring and banking over roots that felt like a series of steps going down into a ravine. Wow, it was one hell of an introduction into the land of trail riding. In retrospect, it was a great beginning and one that I'd love to hit again, but I didn't expect that kind of stuff to come so early and so fast. I think it was put there just to scare the timid and adventure challenged back into their cars. Then it smoothed out.

We zipped along riding through twisty tight trails and freshly cut single-track amid the trees. Though these trails didn't have the rocks and some other nasty stuff I'd seen in Ringwood, they certainly required concentration and good handling skills at these speeds. Without deadly rocks to deal with, we were able to ride much faster here, but navigating the trees and turns while keeping the bike on the four inches of real rideable surface took a bit of time to get comfortable with.

And just as I was building confidence with the ride, my bike began to fail. First, my chain hopped off, easy enough to fix. Then the rear tire migrated against the frame and stopped rolling. I had pulled the smooth comfort tires off the bike and replaced them with knobbys last week and tightened everything back up. Good enough for the road, it just wasn't tight enough for slamming through the woods. Good thing I had tossed both the wrench and my bike tool in my pouch the night before. If I hadn't, my ride would have been over right then.

We ran through the woods on some more ups and downs where these guys made me feel old and weak. For my own defense, I typically take at least a half hour to really warm up into my stamina mode. Then we hit some obstacles. We sailed over logs and log pyramids and some intimidating drops where you basically ride your bike down a terribly steep incline on a ten foot drop with a four inch margin for error. If you're lucky and do it right, you sail down and back up the next incline prepared to do it again. I was way lucky. And I was having fun. I got more and more daring and then I hit the seat after a jump and it budged. After a while it loosened some more. We had to stop so I could tighten it.

Riding again, we eventually came out of the woods and ended up on a part of the trail that was inverted. Here, instead of riding in a ravine with walls of dirt on either side, we were riding as if along the spine of a dragon. The trail was barely more than a foot wide, less in some areas, and had sloping 4-6 foot drop-offs on either side. Now, that really made me suck my breath in quick. It was like the scene from the "Lord of the Rings" series where they cross a chasm that extends straight into hell on a single path of floating rocks. It surely wasn't the place to screw up. And it was something I'd never have attempted if I didn't have the guys riding comfortably and confidently ahead of me.

It really was way cool and a heck of a lot fun until my seat had loosened so much it was like riding a rocking chair. It tilted all the way up, then all the way down and wouldn't remain stable for anything. It made riding along a razor-backed area(or anywhere else for that matter) a little less than fun.

We tightened it up again as much as we could. It seemed done for, the metal stripped. Undaunted, we rode more, back on trails while I sat gingerly in the saddle. I had to hop off the bike a half dozen times from the chain jumping off the inside and getting jammed in the crankset(something I wouldn't have to battle with a newer bike).

I had a blast back on twisty trails that turned and ran back against themselves. And then it was over. We arrived in the parking lot. We were out on the trails for more than 3 1/2 hours of fun that went by quickly... but obligations of the real world called... specifically, from her brother's hockey game. Oh yea, I guess people might be looking for me to care for them. In our state of bliss among wooded trails, it was very easy to forget the rest of the world.

We stopped for the obligatory burger and beer. A fine tradition for sure, where we recapped the ride, laughed and chided and talked about rides to come.

On the way home, Joe questioned my thoughts on why more people don't try mountain biking. I think it takes a certain personality(possibly one lacking sense) to venture into difficult terrain alone. I think more people would try it if they felt they could be led or shown how to do it, if it were more accessible to the average person. I waited a long time to have someone finally bring me in and show me around. If I hadn't been so determined to try it out myself, it may have been a quickly passing desire. But for me, a passing desire, it's not. I'm looking forward to going out there again on a more capable bike.

Sharing good times with friends is one of the best releases from daily stress and riding is one of the best times I can think of. It's a private experience as much as a shared one since everybody takes their own motivations and perspective into a ride and gets their own rewards out of it.

What does this mean for you? I'm hoping you might want to join me on a ride, on the road or in the woods. Beginner or not, we'll find the right pace and groove for you. If you like, I'll hook you up with some great people like Joe and Charlie who really enjoy sharing the fun.

Don't be shy. You know how to reach me.

Sandie

How sweet it is!

Do you remember the last time you really, really wanted something and couldn't get it right away?
Like the donkey reaching for the carrot, did you have times when it was so close and it still didn't happen?
Do you remember the moment you finally had it in your hands? Can you still feel it?

Was it all you wanted it to be and more?
Was it worth the wait?

I hope so.

I am waiting on so many things right now. And there is not one thing I can do to make the process of any of them come faster. I just have to be patient. And it's not that easy.

One is a rare opportunity, a huge, amazing thing that I hope, comes about. If it does, you will be hearing me talk about it endlessly. If I get it, I will be out of my mind happy. An opportunity is an infinite gift. A door opens and allows one step. You then choose how much further to go... how much you are willing to risk and how much you are willing to work to push the outer limits of yourself.

Another thing is a mountain bike. I am waiting for the right bike to come along at the right price. I know what I want and I've narrowed the choices. I am just as confident in my choices in selecting a mountain bike as I was when I ordered the road bike. Then, as now, I know what I need and I'm willing to wait rather than settle. I am so glad that I waited it out on the road bike, but waiting for the mountain bike is surely getting to me.

I've also been waiting for a ride. Each time it looks like I'm going to get the opportunity to get out on a trail with someone who knows what they are doing, it gets cancelled!! Talk about carrots. The weather, obligations and unexpected disasters have all had their toll. But when you're really need of something, you get it where you can get it.

I was very fortunate yesterday. After numerous cancellations for MTB rides due to rain and snow and ice, I jumped in on a group road ride on a 40 mile trek. It rained a little, it snowed a little, it was cold a lot, but it was a great ride! I had the typical trouble of getting started for the first 10 or so miles, but then I got my legs and rode tight in the pace line on the way back. Quite a feat for me, and just where I wanted to be, it was my best performance yet. I knew I was riding really well and I heard about it from the guys riding behind me when we stopped at a light. Way cool.

It was great to be able to challenge myself against a bunch of guys(and 1 girl) in great shape. And... I kept up... for the most part. The hills still beat at me, but I held on in the front of the pack until the last long hill spit me out the back. I was dead last back to the parking lot.

In the car on the way home, I thought about how far I've come this year. How much I can be thankful for. And I was thankful that my upper legs hurt... a lot! They even hurt just sitting still! How awesome! That means, I really worked hard and held little to nothing back. And my reward... being sore! I still have more work to do on the trainer and in the pool but I am so much closer to being competitive. It's just great.

And I need to do it as much as possible to keep an edge... preferably, to improve over the winter.

So, back to the wait. I am still waiting for the epic ride. Finding out how I measure up against someone who knows the trails and knows what MTB really means still eludes me. Getting on the right bike for the job still eludes me. But if they are worth the wait, they will be sweet indeed!!

'Till soon,
Sandie

How much does it hurt?

It was a heathy activity when I started, but it's turned into an addiction.

Since late October, when the weather really started to change, I have had fewer opportunities to do the big rides. The weather hasn't been cooperative and I haven't been up to fighting 20mph winds in the biting cold. So, call me a whimp, but it just doesn't sound like fun. When it's 34 degrees and dark at 7:30am with the wind whipping through the trees, and you're looking out the window half asleep while the cold outside reaches it's fingers through the window to pull the lingering cozy warmth from your body, you seriously rethink your commitment to some silly bike ritual. Crawling back into the soft, still warm sheets and settling in for another sweet dream has a significantly greater appeal than turning your body into a mass of goosebumps while you grab a quick shower, wolf down 2-3 glasses of water with a quick light breakfast and race out the door into guaranteed suffering in the cold and wind. Don't you agree?

It holds true at least until you go into withdrawl. That's when you start to go stir crazy. When you check weather.com obsessively and try to re-arrange your life to grab the few hours of sunshine on the least miserable day to get in a quick ride. Where you'll go anywhere and do anything to get a good workout and build up a sweat. Where you're willing to take your chances with trees and rocks and other deadly obstacles to try to compensate for a good, hard, consistant road ride. When you're ready to do almost anything to get to that place you were in in October.

That place? Well, "that place" is where the muscles are hard and strong under your skin. Where they define themselves as you move and tighten them. Where they sculpt themselves into distinct shapes that never were before. When you're there, you want to go forward... not back.

It only takes a few short weeks for the muscles to get sleepy from a lack of use. They soften and loose their shape and are not willing to do what they seemed to love to do. When I started to go there, I got scared. I worked too hard to get where I am. I can't give it up now! I can't spend a lazy winter and emerge in the spring at the level I was at last spring. I want to jump out of the gates and keep up with the guys in April. I want to be ready to compete in June. I've got big plans for this year and I'm not going to get there unless I work hard between now and then.

So I put my bike on a trainer for the first time. Then I put myself through a high intensity workout for well over an hour. I sweated like it was July. I busted my butt and everything else until it hurt and then I did it some more. I went through the quitting point at least twice and pushed my brain to force my body to go on and step up the level too. It was good. I did it again two days later and again the day after that. Then my legs started to wake back up, started to firm back up. Tired but happy. This is good.

Yesterday, I grabbed the first opportunity I could to do a short but high intensity ride outside. It was great to get back out there. It was cold and it was surely going to rain, but I didn't care. It was what I needed and I was going to get in the best workout I could in the little time I had.

As I was heading home, riding through Oakland, it started to get a bit colder. Then I realized it was the rain. It was gentle enough and persistent enough that I wasn't really aware of it until I noticed the wipers going on the cars. Not to worry, I was little more than three miles from home. I was lost in thought until I picked a leaf or something in my tire. I couldn't see it but I could hear it. Must have been just a leaf, and then it was gone.

Then, another strange feeling. Almost rhythmic. Somewhat reminiscent of my ride in the Catskills where I felt I was riding on bumps that weren't there... when I had a broken spoke.

What the hell? I jumped off my bike before it was fully stopped.

Tire is a little soft. I must have picked up some glass or something. I had no spare tube, no patch kit, no tools, no pump, no one to call to pick me up and 45 minutes until I needed to get my daughter and my student from the grammar school. Damn!

I have been jumping from one bike to the other so much that everything was off the road bike. In my haste to get out today I forgot my riding glasses but I had turned back for them when I hit the first downhill and the 38 degree air hit my eyes at 30 mph, painfully blurring my vision. I didn't even think about my repair kit until I was too far back into the ride. It figures, the one day when I'm without it.

So, I turned a good ride into a quick paced and strenuous 3mile walk in bike shoes. I could certainly feel the burn. I was okay with it. I was certainly going to learn my lesson and I was going to make the walk as effective as possible. And so I did.

I was a bit sore in the evening and as I raced around the TV studio wearing my many hats and producing/directing two great shows. Each time I bent or stretched, I hurt. I'm sore and hurting today. Each time it hurts, I'm happy. We're back!!!

Now I understand the line in the song from John Cougar Mellencamp... It hurts SO good!!