I signed up for the full ride – 103 challenging miles through Sonoma County and out to the sea and back.  The race directors were brutally honest about the difficulty of this ride but I figured ‘nothing ventured, nothing gained’ and I’m training for  an Iron distance race so what the hell – I was all in.

The splendor of this ride is literally indescribable.  It takes you through fields and farms and vineyards, on to the redwood forests, back out to pastures where  the cattle roam free from one side of the road to the other and then out to some of the most magnificent winding ocean side highway in the world.  I’m sure the  stretch of Rt 1 we were on has been used in  more than one car commercial.   The terrain is very tough with hills on Kings Ridge Road that my Garmin measured at 21% grade (I think the official is 18%), cattle guards aplenty and the wind out at the coast was strong enough to blow me sideways. Keeping the rubber side down was a challenge.  

I’d like to say I was 100% triumphant across all 103 of those miles but that isn’t quite how it went.

This ride is the cyclists version of the Myth of Sisyphus.  That’s the one where Sysiphus was condemned by the Gods to push a rock up to the top of a hill but  just when he  got close the rock would roll back to the bottom and he’d have to go back down and start again.  In this case, the ride involved climbing until you  were sure you were ‘at the top’ only to find that shortly after starting your descent you had to head up again.  It happened over and over and over.  You would get through the worst of it only to be greeted with another, less steep but longer climb.   The descents were ferociously steep  and took place in what felt like milliseconds.  The climbs just kept coming.   It was madness but the scenery kept it from being awful.  The scenery was amazing.

The first really ugly climb is on Kings Ridge Road.  It was preceeded by a not insignificant but not terrible climb  that made me think “maybe this ride isn’t such  a big deal after all”.  Then we encountered a sign that said ‘steep climb ahead’.    I knew that the first climb was not notable relative to the real climb and that I was likely in trouble but I dug in and gave that hill what I had.  It was really, really hard and as soon as I saw people off the bikes and walking I thought – oh no  you don’t!  You keep pedaling.  However, at some point the combination of my very labored breathing and the intensity with which my heart was beating (not all  that fast but really, really hard) I bailed and started the walk of shame.  And started in with the self-loathing.

I got to a corner where there was a little bit of flat space and where my friend Sharley was waiting to take a picture of me climbing.  No such luck.  I caught my breath and got back on the bike and started in again but soon found that my willingness to suffer was pretty low so I got off again.  Crap.  This time I just walked to the next available place to re-mount and started up again and managed to do what I thought was crest the hill.  And it was a crest  – for about a few hundred yards and then the climbing started again.  I stayed on the bike this time, though and did not give up the rest of the day.  On balance I probably walked 10% of the whole Kings Ridge Rd. climb and I’m trying to just let it  go.   At least part of my rational was that I didn’t want to be the one to mar Levi’s inaugural effort by having a heart attack.  Big of me, non?

And on the ride went – it went up and it went down at ferocious and terrifying pitches.  There were signs telling you to slow down and people flagging you and calling out to you to slow down and my hands just about cramped up gripping the breaks and it was really fun and quite thrilling. And then the climbing started again.  Lather, rinse repeat.

I could try to describe the scenery. I could give you the blow by blow on the flat tire that ended my day at mile 75.  I could tell you about every rest stop and about the wind  that threatened to blow me across the road, right in front of an on-coming car. All of those things happened and my ride ended at mile 75 with the bead of my  rear tire partially separated from the rest – game over. I could tell you how both elated and sad I felt about taking a car ride over the next ugly climb on Coleman Valley Rd (I would have walked part of it but  would have finished the ride and was really sad not to be able to) but mostly what I will tell you is what I learned on this ride.

I learned, once again, that the state of California is gorgeous and has some of the best riding in the world.  I learned that there is lots of open space and there  are places where people live simple lives, nestled in the redwoods or where they work tirelessly raising cattle in fiercely beautiful places.  I saw the ocean from a new perspective and marveled at the sparkling, churning azure waters and the craggy rocks pushing up from the bottom at a pace where I could really feel  them instead of whizzing by in a car at 50 miles an hour.  I learned that I have some limits  and that if I want to transcend them I need to do some more work  but that  even with the limits I’m remarkably fit.  I learned that good friends are not so much the people you’ve known forever as they are the people who encourage you and look out for you and push you to keep going.   They are the ones who tolerate you when you are cranky and lift you up 

I learned that there are people who really like to have fun and will ride 103 very difficult miles dressed as bees .

I learned once again to make sure that you can’t see the tube between the tire and the rim before you fully inflate the tire.  I learned that Sonoma County is a fantastic place where the  CHP, fire departments and 600 volunteers will all work tirelessly to give 3500 cyclists a fabulous day – I’d like to thank them for that.

Before the Fondo I had endless fantasies of the ride – fantasies that involved the man himself coaching me up the steepist grades and getting me there.  Hey, if  you’re going to dream, dream BIG!  The hilarity of that fantasy came into  sharp focus when we got to the aid station in Ft. Ross   We spoke to  some adorable girls who had everyone who passed through sign their volunteer shirts.      We asked if they had Levis’ signature and they said yes so we asked when he came through and they said 11:30.  It was 3:30 when we asked that question.  We only missed him by 4 hours!

Dreams and fantasies are good. They push us to do things we might not otherwise attempt.  If I had fantasized a ride in which I was unsuccessful at getting up  a hill and then had to toss it in  28 miles prematurely due to a blown tire (thereby garnering my first ever DNF)  I would probably have canceled the whole thing and just stayed home so I say dream  on.  Dream big and then do what you can to live the dream.   Without big dreams there would have been no Gran Fondo at all so thank you Levi for living large, dreaming big and making your dreams come true.  It was a great day.

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1). Drive By Compliment –  The other day when I was riding up Mt. Diablo in the middle chain ring feeling pretty fly a most amazing and complimentary thing happened.  A very large SUV with 3 cute guys in their late teens or early 20s started to pass me as they were coming down the mountain.  The kid driving had his window open and he pointed at me and said “YOU!  are beautiful”   So to the adorable kid in the big SUV, “Thank you!  YOU made my day!”

addendum – I think what he meant was “for climbing the mountain at your advanced age” but I dug it, anyhow.

2). Look and Feel –  How do you like my spiffy new template?  Pretty clean and nice, eh?  I owe it all to Runner Susan who is the bestest bloggy friend a girl could ever, ever have.  If you want you blog sexed up and beautiful you really must avail yourself of her services through the Masthead Factory.  You won’t regret it!

3).  Training is solidly under way and my thunder thighs are feeling well used.  I had almost forgotten about that ‘hurts so good’ feeling but I must admit – it is good.  Me gusta, mucho!

4).  Dating and romance make me crazy.  I’ve had 3.2 dates with the man I like and I like him all the more so now I’ve already transcended to the crazy woman who is insecure and sure he is going to dump me any second.  That does not hurt so good – it is absurd and stupid and I need to stop it.

5).  On Feb 7 there is a national ALS fundraising event called The War on ALS put together by the Blazeman Foundation.  ALS is a nasty, nasty disease that takes your life inch by inch; day by day.   I am a participant in this indoor Spin-a-thon and will spin in a trainer or stationary bike for 2 hours or so.   Not that big a deal for me but 16.5 hours seemed a little over the top.    I am raising money. I’m hoping to get people to donate $16.50 which would be 1 dollar for every hour John Blais spent making his life long dream of becoming an IronMan come true.  5 bucks works, too!  So does $1.65.  Anything, really.

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Race of Hope - Start

From the web site:
The sleepy town of Buea in the Southwest Province of Cameroon hosts Africa’s most grueling footrace: the Mt. Cameroon Race of Hope, a marathon-length sprint 10,000 feet up a live volcano, and back down again.

To conquer the mountain, racers must overcome some of the cruelest conditions in sport: temperatures fluctuate 50 degrees, altitude sickness claims the weak, and loose volcanic stones can cause serious injury, and even death, as runners fly back down the mountain
Volcanic Sprint takes you deep inside the lives of athletes like Sarah Etonge, a five-time champion and mother of seven known as the Queen of the Mountain. Just days before the race, Sarah is haunted by a nagging knee injury and the strain of a hospitalized child. Sarah needs the money she earns from racing to support her children and the Race of Hope is the biggest purse in Cameroon.

For these competitors, Mt. Cameroon isn’t just a race. It’s their best shot at achieving fame and fortune in a country short on both. For former champion John Ekema, it’s a chance to relive fading glory through his son. For two-time champion Dominique Tedjiozem, attacked by rivals during the 2002 race, it’s a chance for vengeance.

All the competitors’ hopes and aspirations come together on the biggest sporting day in Cameroon. The winners will achieve lifelong fame. But nearly half of all runners will quit the race … conquered by Mt. Cameroon.

Joe Bob 21CM sez – check it out!  Twenty bucks is a small price to pay for some at the ready off-season inspiration.

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Congratulations to DPR, Baboo and Andy from Arizona Tri Club, and Jen from (Swimming, Biking and Running) Stories who went a stellar 6:12 in Barb’s Race, her first Half IM. Condolences to Geek Girl who had a blown out tubular that could not be fixed. To her credit she ran the 1/2 marathon, anyhow and did fine so congratulations on that.

I had 3 jobs at this race. I directed people to turn left at one of the many turns on the bike, I was DPR’s Own Personal Sherpa™ and I cheered for people as best I could. I had a great day and a great time. I hung out with DPR’s Moms and her adorable babies who I ♥ so much, I got in a little riding since I took my bike and spent some time on the run course and I gave back to the Vineman since the Vineman gave so much to me.

The Vineman tooketh away some on this incredibly hot August 2nd. I feel bad for saying the course was so easy and that Chalk Hill was just nothing because it turns out that in 98 degree heat with a headwind at the end of a 2nd loop of an Iron distance race it is something – something awful. A guy from my race club blew up on the bike and quit on the run. The chopped up roads were not such a big issue for me but they took Misty out of the race completely. And there was the heat.

To those who finished the Vineman gaveth a tremendous amount of pride. The mental game on the Full Vineman is not trivial. The run has 3 loops and all of them make you pass the finish line – ouch. I did say there were some hills and so there are but I only had to run them once – not 3 times. Totally different experience. So between the difficult bike and the hot, hard run this was a very tough race and my hat is off to everyone who made it and to those who didn’t but who gutted it out as long as they possibly could. Well done!

I have pictures – lots of pictures. I will post them soon.

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How sweet it is. After years and years and years of assertion that not only is it unladylike for girls to be as smart as boys in math and science but they really aren’t anyhow, a little simple data crunching on a whole lot of data has shown that it just ain’t so. The cultural stuff is still there – girls are still teased for being smart but at least we now know that this is strictly a cultural phenomenon and not a genetic predisposition toward dumb.

Here is a really interesting article about the Top 5 Myths About Girls, Math and Science. Mostly what it says is that if you do things that encourage girls in math and science the boys find the messages encouraging, too. It also says that a boy will take a “C” in a math or science course and just keep moving forward if he likes the subject whereas a girl with a “B” will think she’s no good and stop. Interesting.

The flip side of all this that boys are failing in record numbers. Some would have you believe it is because our education system is more geared for girls who are more willing to sit quietly and do as they are told than for rambunctious boys. They want you to believe that it is the “feminization” of the classroom that is responsible for this phenomenon but as I scan several articles on this topic I cringe at the absurdity of them and turn tail from the argument like a dog who’s just been sprayed by a skunk. Since boys have always been more rambunctious than girls I suspect classroom management trends and free choice are more responsible for this phenomenon than anything but who knows?

What I do know is that we finally have some solid evidence that intelligence is not gender based and that girls are as smart as boys and I like that. I like it a lot.

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You can view the speech in video and in text here

Many thanks to my darling Pookie for sending me that link.

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