Century-A-Month: 2022

2020 2021 2022 2023

There is a lot to see -- and a lot to go wrong -- on a hundred mile bicycle ride. Sometimes it can be nice to reflect on these rides, and even more so to revisit them after some time has passed. This journal is a recollection of those rides, both good and bad, and everything in between. Journaling also holds me accountable to my goal: riding at least one "Imperial Century" every single month of the year.

Please forgive any grammar or spelling errors... most of these words came about after a long a day in the saddle.

January 2022

It has been a blustery, windy and cold start to the year here in Central Texas; I know I cannot really complain, of course -- the temperature has remained above freezing and the sun has shown itself plenty. Perhaps the weather has just been a convenient cover for my loss of fitness: it has been over 5 weeks since I last rode a century, with a nearly full 3 weeks off the bike in between. Recovering my endurance has been an uphill battle.

When the forecast called for morning temps above 40°F and a modest southern breeze (read: warm), I was ready to tackle my monthly century. Part of the excuse for my lack of riding was a change of address; although only a few miles down the road, the move has radically shifted my preferences for routes -- I am closer to the prairies now, and further from the hills. A flattish route should be easy, I thought! I started in a full getup: arm warmers, leg warmers, ear band, windbreaker, and outer-gloves. The outfit was perfect, as I was cold enough to avoid sweating but otherwise quite comfortable. Not trying to burn myself out, I kept the pace leisurely, and checked off the first two hours without a second thought.

The sun was bright and I was making up my route as I went; mostly, I followed familiar roads, but in a new sequence. Then, at just around mile 22, a flat tire. It was warm enough to lose some layers as I set about a repair. I found a small shard of glass in the tire (and removed it), but I couldn't reliably find a matching puncture in the tube; I opted to use my spare tube, but was a bit concerned about my future. Home was only 10 miles away, and always better safe than sorry. I considered calling it a day, but I was rather determined -- it was a gorgeous day! I made my stop at home as quick as possible, using the opportunity for a second breakfast of toast as I grabbed a fresh tube and used the floor pump to set my tire pressure just so.

I stripped a few more layers before leaving home again; it was still cool but the sun was intense and still rising. Doubling over some of the morning's route was inevitable, but it wasn't long before I was forging a new way out into the prairie. Texas is often overlooked when people ask about great cycling locales stateside, but I can assure you, the country roads are par excellence for road riding. I hardly remember any traffic from mile 40 to 70, when I reached Seguin and a much needed service station -- I was losing salt faster than I had anticipated for January!

From Sequin it was a straight shot North to home, which was exciting because the southern breeze had really picked up. I knew I was making good time, and later confirmed a personal record on that stretch, according to Strava. My intuition about the distance home was about right, but my sense was still 'rough'. I arrived just a mile short of a century. It left a good opportunity to roll a few blocks around the new neighborhood, the first time I had taken time to do so.

Perhaps it is a bit late for New Years Resolutions, but I suppose I will plan to keep this up for another year.

February 2022

The weather had been a bit limiting in the preceding weeks -- there was one ride in particular with a 27mph wind -- so when I saw a forecast for temperatures in the 60's with light and variable winds, I knew it would be among the best of the month's days for a long bicycle ride. This would be my second century starting out from the new neighborhood, so I planned a conservative 85 mile loop to allow for missed turns and route variances. In my head, I compensated for this by angling straight into the Hill Country; at worst, I would wrap up with an extra loop in the Prairies.

It is still February here around 30°N and the lows were only a couple degrees above freezing. I layered up well to start. As the morning went on, the conditions were approaching perfect: the warm sun and steep climbs nearly caused a sweat, but this was consistently offset by a lingering chill in the low-lying valleys (and often enhanced by the effortless speed of the descent).

Some areas of the Hill Country are rather easy to capture by photo -- things like excessive road cuts and highway bridges often highlight the challenging topography. The roads most often bicycled, however, have fewer such features for illustration. Rather, the best riding roads twist and meander up and down the hills and bluffs, often at over 10% grade; the effect is that photos of these roads generally fail to highlight more than a few tenths of a mile ahead, and the background, if there is any at all, looks deceiving flat. (Also, it's often mentally difficult to force oneself to stop at the top of a big hill!) The following picture was taken along the appropriately named Valley View Road: it begins as a modest 2% descent with a few broad curves before opening to this expansive view, which marks an 8% plunge to the Blanco River.

It wasn't until noon that I began to lighten up my layers; first it was gloves, and a bit later, the wind breaker. It wasn't until lunch, in Canyon Lake, that I finally removed my leg warmers and ear covering, but still leaving my arm warmers. It was warming up, sure, but still below 60°F. It was cold enough for a coffee and a handheld fried pie with chocolate filling. I also added a few cookies and gummy bears, but mostly for the saddle bag. I couldn't decide whether to say I was already over halfway to my goal, or to say I still had 45 miles to ride. On the plus side at least, the next section up was River Road -- it's the kind of section where you really don't notice your odometer, rather just the scenery.

Passed River Road is the small village of Gruene, which was bustling with the nice weather. I topped off on water and began thinking about my options for 30 more miles; autopilot took over anyway, and I found myself closer and closer towards home. The miles inched by, at least, until I crossed back over I-35 and got away from traffic, back onto the most local of my loops. I would need to double back a bit, and I couldn't imagine a better road to do so than York Creek -- it's part of our local group's weekly ride, and for good reason: it's nearly fully shaded, with few farm accesses, made better by its easy grades and entertaining curves. The odometer nearly vanished again -- even at mile 95 -- as I plodded along to finish the century.

March 2022 (1)

Few pictures this month, but plenty of miles! Despite a slew of flats and mechanicals, needing to mostly blow past the 'checkpoints', I still managed a great overall time on a double metric century with strength left to spare; it's funny how that works sometimes.

The story starts with an extraordinary warm front finally making its way into the area -- steady 16-17 mph winds, 60-80°F temps, and enough overcast to keep the sun at bay most of the day. Of course, with such a day, a few of the local club rider's wanted to join as well, but as it so often does, everyone's schedule brought different constraints: we decided on a 75-mile group route starting around 8:30. I left home at 7, hoping to get 15 or so miles out of the way ... I had hoped get to the café with time for a coffee, but my legs couldn't buy me enough time.

We headed off into the hills, one of the favorite routes to Wimberley, and picked up a few members of the crew along the way -- our first flat came about 1 mile into the ride, but was fixed with some dexterity. Afterwards, we enjoyed a tailwind, which gave us a boost up some of the hills and helped make up some time. Twenty miles in and we passed up any stops in Wimberley, heading further out from home. About six miles out of town, a different rider had a rear flat. Being a newer rider, we waited patiently to let them figure it out, mostly on their own, only stepping in as things went slightly awry -- it's certainly an important thing to learn to change a flat independently, rather than needing to depend on those around you! It was a nice chance for me to grab a few cheese crackers from my pocket anyhow, as I was nearing mile 40.

Aired up and rolling again, we were finally about to turn south -- into the wind. The headwind was tolerable though, as Fischer Store Road offers excellent pavement, rolling hills, and plenty of shallow curves to keep the views a-changing (while maintaining good sightlines for traffic). There was, at this point, some inventorying of tubes and patches occurring, as there were still a good few miles to go; at worst, Sattler offered a few services and a good place to arrange a sag wagon if needed. A third flat for the day -- on yet a different wheel -- would exhaust the spare inventory, and force a couple riders to the side of the road. We still had phone service, and a ride was hailed; it happens. After a bit of small talk, the remaining riders saddled up, back into the wind.

Feeling a little pressured by the clock, the pace stepped up a bit. Despite a headwind and hills, the next 20 miles rolled by with seeming ease; I was at mile 65 at this point, and ready for more than just crackers! We all agreed to a stop, but that we'd try and make it quick: cookies and a soda were all I could think to grab. Ten minutes later, we were off down the infamous River Road (which seems to feature in at least 3 or 4 of my centuries each year). Every couple miles is another river crossing, which seems to make the road shorter than is (even against the headwind). Soon enough we were down to Gruene, and our final turn northward. A strong tailwind made 20 more miles to the coffee shop a literal breeze.

I was at 95 miles when the other riders made their own ways home. I felt like 200k was well within reach -- it was only 2pm. Even better, I thought, I was feeling good enough to take on some of the local hills. I knocked out the first climb up the escarpment, thinking of how I would twist my route around when I heard a loud "plink". There was a new wobble in my front tire, now being held by just 31 spokes. At minimum, I'd be finishing my century, but I wouldn't be taking a wobbly wheel down any serious descents; I started limping towards home.

I was determined to get the 200k, and even considered riding it out with the broken spoke, but my caution got the best of me. It was mile 105 when I got to the garage. I set a personal record for swapping a tire, tube and rotor to a spare wheel, realigned the brake caliper, and was on my way, out towards the 'weekday' loop. Despite a series of setbacks, skipping the morning coffee, the usual long lunch, I was still feeling strong -- perhaps just the usual soreness and discomfort after so many hours on the bike.

It was good to officially get my March century out of the way, and to say I rode a double-metric during the "winter". I may yet finish another century this month, but will certainly be planning for one in April!

March 2022 (2)

I don't always write about my "extra" monthly centuries, but this was a bit more noteworthy. A group of students from Texas State University had originally planned to gather at Austin's Veloway Park. The park includes a 3-mile circuit with tight turns, some modest elevation, and one punchy climb. Though the student group cancelled, I was already psyched-up to be checking out the wheels-only track for the first time.

While it's only about 35 miles from home, most of the roads are chock full of auto traffic. The worst few miles are high speed highway with only modest shoulders. Everyone I passed in the morning was headed away from Austin, while I seemed to be the only sucker headed in. At about mile 28, though, Highway 45 offers a fully separated multi-user trail, which is especially handy as the road turns up a 7% grade climb to "Escarpment Road". I eased up a bit, as the Veloway was just a few turns (all bike lanes) ahead.

I had meant to take some better photos of the course, but I -- just -- couldn't -- stop. The circuit really isn't made for all out attacks, as the turns are too sharp; rather, the course is more about precision cornering, sticking the line, and of course, some courtesy to the slower riders. All told, I did 10 laps before calling it good. (I knew exactly how far it was from home!)

I didn't stop for much to eat, except on the way home; a couple days of hedonism during the local "Spring Break" had me well rested. When I started getting weak -- around mile 75 -- I stopped for some M&M's and a fried apple pie; it was enough to keep me going smoothly, but not quickly, into the strong headwinds. I got home much earlier than expected, surprising myself both for minimizing stops and keeping a good pace. Mostly though I am excited to add a new route to the list, with a great destination -- the idea of a potential group ride out to the Veloway is hard to resist.

April 2022 (1)

March was a mixed bag -- banner month for total miles, a few personal records, and yet, I felt 'off' on lots of my rides. Therefore, I wanted to get a good start in April. With clear skies and mild winds -- and a Saturday to myself -- I set out shortly after sunrise with a loose outline of a Century route. In the back of my mind, I was reserving the option to bail out to a shortcut if need be.

With uncertainty, and hours to go, I started off by plodding along at a leisurely pace. First, I ventured through the city -- College towns are refreshingly quiet on early weekend mornings. I left town north, towards Austin; part of me wanted to angle back towards the Veloway, but then I resolved to get as far from traffic as possible. I crossed under I-35, bearing east out into the prairies. Less than a mile from the interstate and I was surrounded by fields: Mustang Ridge. Other cyclists, most likely from Austin, frequented the area; I waved to those oncoming, and spoke -- briefly -- with the lone cyclist who caught and passed me. I would be alone, save for a few farm trucks, all the way to Lockhart, around mile 50.

I stopped at McDonalds. It sounds odd to call it a treat, but my more local McD's have shuttered their lobbies, so being able to sit and enjoy some French fries and a fountain soda was really something kind of special for lunch. I didn't sit too long, of course -- it was back out to the bike and the road. I had a choice here: just 20 miles home, or take the long way and round up to a century. I turned the long way, and decided to commit.

Around an hour after pushing on -- I was feeling pretty good -- I reached one of my favorite places to sit and contemplate. I watched the water pass under the bridge while chewing on a few gummy snacks, and reminded myself to grab a picture!

From the river, the road climbs (of course) to one of the highest ridges in the area, around Kingsbury (still in the plains, and not quite the Hill Country). Aside from the rolling hills, the area is popular for Wildflower viewing. Texas' wildflowers only bloom for a short couple weeks in the spring, and so must be appreciated on their schedule. This week, the Blue Bells have just started to open up, both along the roadside and out in the pastures. Knowing where to look now, you can bet I'll be making a few more loops that away to watch as more fields come into bloom.

I upped the pace just a bit on my last 15 miles. The day's leisurely pace had left a lot of energy in reserve, and left me optimistic about my riding for the rest of this month!

April 2022 (2)

L’Etape San Antonio was announced in 2021, following a route along the famous Hill Country highways of Medina and Bandera – a popular stop for the Bandidos. I had only heard of the ride in January of 2022; by then, registration was only weeks from closing and the fees were well beyond my budget (my salary is a simple matter of public inquiry.) As many would then suggest, I sought out training rides that would parallel the organized route. When one such ride happened to be announced, it was quickly shutdown – local cyclists explained that riding the planned route was foolish, safety wise. The only time to ride those highways, safely, would be the day of the ride when motorists would be more alert.

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I started pedaling from the parking areas at 6:45 out onto the course, where headlights still flickered in the dawn. Law enforcement had already begun positioning themselves, but they were still relaxed when I crossed I-10; a small handful of spectators had gathered on the corner, so I joined them. We were waiting for the spectacle: an exotic sports car blowing past the Interstate Highway, followed by a peloton of serious contenders.

As the pack thinned, the spacing between riders became such that joining the flow was no interruption. I paced others at times and drafted on occasion, but mostly kept far right, passing only individual riders cautiously, and otherwise waiting for packs and pacelines to clear their way – really, this is basic etiquette, save for some of the racers to whom cycling is practiced as a contact sport.

I rolled through Boerne at mile 20; resupply would have been off-route.

On the way to Bandera, an gentleman older than myself caught me. I was making way for him, of course, but he began to draft me, instead. I obliged, and after a few minutes of this, he pulled ahead of me. It was a nice frame, and he was using it well, but from his draft I immediately noticed the crooked derailleur.

We arrived in Bandera together, at mile 44, where I pointed out the c-store I would be getting food and water, and using the facilities. He stopped with me. There were no other cyclists from the ride, and we were in and out quickly; I tore the top off the gummy bear package, and slid it into my jersey. “Ready to go”, I asked; he shrugged. “I’m not riding alone”, he said.

His chain was thrown about 10 miles after, though we’d had some really good rotations. There were a scattering of others along the road, but vast stretches between most – there was nothing of a peloton. I ended up pacing, rather than passing for awhile.

There were a few hills ahead, and dramatic canyons of road cuts still offering relief from the rising sun. I stopped, just once, for a few pictures of the road. The man with the bent derailleur passed, and with the usual etiquette, asked if I was okay; I emphatically waved him on. I quickly mounted the bike and started pedaling, snapping a few more images on the roll before sliding the phone back into my pocket.

I began to reflect on the cost of the ride, and the promises to the riders. Organizers had promised a real Tour De France experience, and had also stated that at a minimum, roads will be partially closed as riders will never be on an open road with vehicle traffic. While I’m certain that traffic control was a priority for the serious contenders, the traffic and road conditions deteriorated significantly for the latter half of the participants. I have no room to complain, personally, but I would be curious of other cyclists’ reviews; these thoughts only instigate questions about the broader rights of cyclists to feel safe on our roads in the first place.

It was 15 more miles to the aid station; there was another convenience store not far away. The two of us continued our rotations. As we passed others riders, often they would hang on for a few miles; a few hung on until mile 70. It seemed it was a high point in the ride for everyone. Peeling off into the aid station, one of the riders said to me, “thanks for the help”. The gent with the bent derailleur rolled towards the mechanics’ tent with a small wave, though I would bet the bike would have finished the ride in any case. I probably could have skipped the store, but a large Gatorade seemed like a sure bet to finish the remaining 30 miles with some gusto.

For the most part, the participants had self-organized and passing was few and far between. I paced with the same handful of cyclists in sight for long stretches – a strong tailwind helped minimize anyone’s preference for drafting at that point in the ride. I nibbled on the few gummy candies still in my back pocket, and focused on small but frequent sips from the bottles.

As the course approached I-10 for the final stretch, the route markings and law enforcement presence intensified. Three different groups – 25 mile, 60 mile, and 100 mile riders – all converged on the same route under the interstate, but the ‘bicycle traffic’ was still light enough to maintain a strong tempo. Where the course went left, I went straight. I skipped the finish line, naturally, but wound around back to the parking area. The actual course seemed to come up a bit short of a century, so I pushed on past to the nearby Whataburger to ponder lunch.

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Off-course, many cyclists agree with a society which accepts that some routes are ‘off-limits’ to bicycles, whilst knowing they have every legal right to be riding ‘those places’. They also, apparently, agree with charging exorbitant fees for those places to be ‘made safe by organization’ for a given, usually small, period of time.

On course, of the registered riders to whom I became acquainted, few if any were irked, while far more shared in cyclists’ typical sense of camaraderie.

May 2022 (1)

Recently, my work projects have come to a standstill, leaving me a bit more leeway with my time during the week; this set the stage for a rather big adventure during the middle of the week, when traffic is often lightest. Not sure exactly what to plan for, I waited and let the weather decide – when the forecast called for 20 mph winds out of the south, I drew a loop on the map starting out into the headwind, then turning homeward, northbound with a tailwind. Since I wanted an adventure, I went ahead and made the turn around point around 100 km, which also guaranteed I’d be riding some new roads on the day’s ride.

The first 25 miles were predictable, familiar roads. After a few small twists and a couple small hills, the road opens wide up, and while flat, the headwinds can be terrific. In the mornings’ early hours, the gusts were only 10-15 mph, and allowed me to push a strong pace. I skirted by Seguin, taking to a state highway shoulder for a few miles, then turning off for the backroads; the traces of the city vanished, and I was once again immersed in rural farm country. Well-kept horse stables were a common – and prominent – sight along Mesquite Pass. Before long, the farm roads reconnect with the state highways, and I stopped at the dollar store for a candy bar and a sports drink – about 66 of 200 km.

It was just another mile of state highway before I reconnected with the farm routes; now heading southeast, I was headed direct into the headwind. Around 100km, I started desperately scouting for a water tower, or any other sign of the rest stop ahead. It was time to check the map: I either missed a turn, or miscalculated the route, as the ‘midpoint’ of the ride was another 15km ahead!

Nonetheless, I reached Nixon Texas with a bit of water to spare; I was still feeling good, but I was ready for lunch. The local Dairy Queen was able to set me up with a medium Blizzard and a soda – probably not the best lunch, but it cooled me down and had me feeling refreshed. I revised the route a bit, to keep me close to 200 km, and set out, with a tailwind at last!

It was about 50 km to my next stop, but it felt effortless. Even so, with the sun riding high in the sky, I was still going through my water at a steady pace. So when I reached Kingsbury, and went for the usual tap, I was quite disheartened to discover it was off – there were no services the entirety of the route home, and anything at all would add miles off route; well, except for one stop…

I set off from Kingsbury, still around 40 km to go, trying to convince myself the wind would just let me coast home (even through the hills)! I kept my efforts meek, to keep from overheating, but even so, by the time I reached Highway 123 (about 15 km from home), I simply could not skip Gringo’s Shaved Ice. While far from favorite snack, it’s hard to complain about ice and sugar on a hot day; the staff filled my water bottle too, and while I probably wouldn’t need it, the water was a nice gesture and bolstered my confidence heading back out onto the open road.

A double-metric, and I was home before the evening rush hour – it was a good adventure.

May 2022 (2)

This week, I had a fellow ask about my experience with meteorology -- despite some formal training on the subject from my roots in Geography, I felt that it, if anything, it was bicycling that provided me with most of my expertise regarding the weather forecast. Today, I had a chance to test that expertise.

The planning for this century started to coalesce on Saturday, May 21st. I, along with some members of the local club, made a short trip up to the Veloway in Austin. Despite an early morning start, it was hot! So hot, in fact, that I left the course after just 100k, feeling rather heat sick. Later, at home, when I took a phone call from family at home (in Iowa), they were eager to boast how their weather had suddenly cooled off -- a strong cold front had taken hold in the northern midwest. You can see from the surface weather map, two very different conditions: a weak warm front holding over central Texas, doing its best to fend off the incoming cold front (taken at approximately 11 am Central Daylight Time (-5 hours from the National Weather Service's Zulu time format).

The overnight forecast in Texas called for a bit of rain (no doubt following behind the oncoming cold front) -- the rain was forecast to clear out by sunrise. The forecast for Sunday morning was ultimately correct: a cool 60°F, and a welcome break from the previous week's high 90's. The only challenge for planning a longer bicycle ride would be the lingering wind, chilly, but thankfully a dry air. Rather than complain about the windy conditions, I set out to make an ally out of Mother Nature.

I double checked the forecast before I left -- just to be sure.
KAUS 221153Z 01014KT 10SM FEW035 BKN200 OVC250 17/12 A3014
At 7 am CDT (Sunday May 22nd), Austin Bergstrom International Airport was reporting winds bearing from 10° (or NNE) at about 14 knots, with 10 Statute Miles of visibility, and three distinct cloud layers -- a full overcast cloud deck on top, at 20,000 feet above ground level. Aside from the wind, the conditions were perfect for a long day out on the bicycle.

As I often will, I chose to start off into the wind, which left me with only a few routes to consider; I persuaded myself to head into Hill Country, following a usual course out northwest towards Wimberley, then turning due north towards Dripping Springs. I put some effort in on the way out, refusing to be held up too badly by the wind (or the hills) and made it to Drippin' Donuts (about 50 miles) in just three and a half hours. I checked the weather again for a quick update:
KAUS 221553Z 01015KT 10SM FEW021 SCT200 BKN250 22/14 A3018

The clouds were starting to break apart and the sun was raising the heat: the temperature had risen from the morning's 60°F (17°C), and was now up to 70°F (22°C) -- still mild for central Texas in May! More importantly, the forecast for the wind had held steady: pushing 15 knots (or about 17mph) from 10° (or NNE). I was ready to turn around and head home, riding Nature's coattails the whole way. I didn't know just how successful I was until I downloaded the GPS data: 40 new personal achievements, many of those being Personal Bests.

On the whole, it was one of my fastest solo centuries (riding generally goes much faster with a group to pace and draft). The important story though, is one of working with nature, rather than against it. It certainly wasn't merely my own power that grabbed those silly gold medals -- it was the gift of a strong breeze that did that. Further, I might suggest this century and my success to be a prime example of why I'm often reticent to adhere to preplanned routes -- bicycling is easier when you can be flexible, and follow the weather, rather than fight it.

June 2022

Traveling can make long rides a bit more challenging. For one, the routes and conveniences are not nearly as familiar, and two, it can be hard to dedicate the time away from other preoccupations. So, with various destinations marked on the calendar for the month of June, I was simply glad to have a free morning to go ride. I left my accommodations just after 5:30am, in the early light of an Iowa sunrise.

I wanted to spend some time on the multi-user trails in the area, which, while they are never the fastest ways to go, the separated parkways provide a rather comfortable respite from the usual road riding and urban traffic. To give the ride a bit of a purpose, I set off to catalog the major bridges of the Mississippi River in the Quad Cities area -- a friend and I stumbled across a sign along the river one night which set the stage for collecting.

From the west end of Davenport, the nearest bridge carries the traffic of Interstate 280. There aren’t many places to view the bridge itself; I was able to capture a glimpse through a small clearing in the trees along the riverside road near Nahant Marsh – the pavement barely protrudes above the water.

From the Marsh, a small pedestrian and bicycle bridge connects the main river bank to Credit Island, helping to link various parts of the Riverfront Trail and Duck Creek Trail.

Just a few miles up the trail, the path takes a sweeping left under the piers of the Crescent Railway bridge; just around the corner, the view opens up to a series of arches comprising the Centennial Bridge. The landings for the bridge are several blocks up from the river bank – the entire parkway, including the baseball stadium, has been threatened by floodwaters several times in the last few decades.

Another few miles passed following the trail from Davenport towards Bettendorf; the new Interstate 74 bridge looms in the distance, its arches taller, even in the background, than its green predecessor. The new bridge includes pedestrian accommodations, creating the first such linkage between Bettendorf and Moline. Before getting to the bridge, however, construction on the bike trail, forced a reroute up the river bluffs; the side streets weren’t too busy and it was easy enough to find a way back down towards the river and bridge.

The new concrete rolled smooth, even as the path climbed a modest grade. The scenery was less than dramatic, however, as the pathway faced the hulking remnants of the old bridge, obscuring any wider view of the downtown skylines. I could feel vibrations in my feet from the traffic and felt oddly uneasy; I went to exit the bridge into Illinois. Before I could, however, I was moved to stop for a picture of a recently placed memorial: two pedestrians were killed on the fully-separated path by a motorist in May – multi-million dollar infrastructure failing to properly protect the most vulnerable users.

I moved on from Interstate 74 with my eyes forward on the river. The Mississippi River Trail continued onward further than I could go. I passed under Interstate 80, technically north of Rock Island County, but also the last bridge across the river for another ten or fifteen miles; it was difficult to get a good view of the bridge and it is kind of unremarkable anyway. I spotted about half of its total span looking back once I reached the River’s Bend in Port Byron.

I was over 50 miles for the day and was doubling back the way I came for a bit. I skipped past I-74, staying on the Illinois river trail. I took a small detour through Sylvan Island, which includes a mostly gravel outer loop with only a bit of sand to contend with. Not much further ahead, the trail first crosses a small bridge, from Illinois to the Rock Island Arsenal, and then continues on towards the Government (or Arsenal) Bridge. Oftentimes, I’ll get stuck waiting because of an open span (for barge traffic), but today, a train guaranteed the road would take priority over the water; the train shook the bridge an impressive amount more than any car traffic ever had. With a few photos of the bridge, I headed towards the remaining parkway loops in Bettendorf and followed the Duck Creek Trail back toward Davenport to complete my century.

July 2022 (1)

Back in Texas, the daily temperatures have been breaking 100°F with consistency; this, of course, sets a general limit on day time riding hours (if you want to be safe about it, anyway). To get in the century ride, I hatched a plan to start around four in the morning, hoping I could beat the worst of the heat. Long story short, I succeeded, adding another month to the roll.

With longer summer days, I had honestly grown to miss regular night rides, so starting out in the dark was a refreshing opportunity. I chose a route I knew well, to minimize any surprises. Even so, I was still spooked a time or two by things unknown -- maybe it was an owl, or a large bat? At times, there was an even a chill in the air (although the mercury was reading over 70°F).

The first stop was Seguin; thankfully I hadn't hurried any to arrive -- the service station opened at six, four minutes after I dismounted the bike. It was the usual quick stop: a bit of ice, a restroom break, and king-size rice krispie treat (half for the moment, half for later). I left Seguin east, into a fading twilight and a soft sunrise.

Traffic was still thin, and mostly going in the opposite direction: I was headed away from town. I stopped for a picture atop Interstate 10 to admire the sunrise (you know it's a backroad when there's no access to the freeway.

Next up, I passed through Kingsbury, only about 20 miles from home, but I turned towards Lockhart. The next few miles are among my favorite from any route -- the roads are narrow and quiet, with trees, creeks, and wide open spaces; just before it all ends, a bridge crosses the San Marcos River. I've photographed the river -- downstream -- from that spot often before, so this time I thought to capture the view upstream.

After the river, there are a few miles of highway (with plenty of shoulder), and a few more chipseal farm roads before Lockhart. On the final stretch, I caught up with another cyclist. During our chatting, he asked if I knew of the El Camino Gravel ride, and when I said I didn't, he offered a run down and an extended a warm invitation -- maybe sometime! Our conversation was cut short by a split in our paths; as he headed home, I veered towards the next service stop. It was around mile 62, and I was ready for more water and another snack -- an ice cream sandwich. The sun was fully up now, and shadows were getting shorter, so I applied some sunscreen before heading back onto the road.

I had plotted my route conservatively, and was making another pass towards home, with the intention of spinning a few more loops around town to finish the century. Aside from passing close to home, the highway out of Lockhart is as flat as any in the region; I still had to fight a headwind, but it was otherwise smooth rolling the ten or so miles into Martindale, which is right on the San Marcos River. From there, I planned to cross back and forth across the river, collecting more photos I've skipped in the past. Unfortunately, I was right to skip them! The bridge rails sorely impeded any good view of the natural waters below.

It was nearing ten in the morning, and the heat was rising. I was around mile 85, but was sure to be patient as I neared my goal. I made a wide loop around town (this time following the Blanco River for a bit), then headed for Spring Lake and the Meadows Center. The natural spring there forms the headwaters of the San Marcos River, and the park that's maintained there includes a cold bottle-fill station! The picture of the lake was acceptable, at least for my journal here.

After the lake, I was feeling good (and still patient), so I dared to challenge some of the hills around town, adding a bit of elevation to the ride, while also rolling some roads I hadn't been down in months -- it's always exciting to see the slow march of change around town.

All told, I finished up just before noon and just as the index crested 100°F; best of all, I was still hydrated! Aside from a hearty lunch, I'm thinking of my bed, which I'll probably seek out early tonight.

July 2022 (2)

The only trouble with a van-supported tour is, well, someone has to drive the van! That oftentimes means somebody is missing out on some great riding, but there is a neat solution to that problem – one or two some-ones just have to ride the route out-and-back. Day One of the Mickelson Trail tour was scheduled to be a fifty-mile ride, starting from milepost zero in Deadwood South Dakota and ending in Hill City: two of us would ride that route, both ways, so that no one was sitting out (and with that, we would finish a full gravel century)!

The plan started around 4:30am, when the alarm rang and the race down the backroads highways began. The two of us would drop the van, around halfway down the route, at the Mystic Trailhead (we planned to ride back to Deadwood, regather our group, then return to the van – then finish the route as a group, and the two of us would set out again, back to retrieve the van in the evening).

At the trailhead, cool morning temperatures had made for a rolling fog, giving the mountainous scenery a magical air. Despite the fantastical views, we put our heads down and dug in deep – there were 35 miles to cover before we would reach Deadwood and the crew waiting for us there. Just around two hours later, we arrived – we took 9th and 10th place on the Strava leaderboards for our effort.

It was just around eight in the morning, but we were all eager to begin; it was a grand departure, rolling down Main Street and past the monumental sign marking mile zero. The initial pace was slow but steady – the “rail-trail” had been rerouted, and while the grades were relatively mild, they often exceeded 5% in the early miles. Overall, the trail climbed a challenging 1600 feet in just 15 miles.

From the crest of the first climb, the trail would roll on downhill for 22 more miles – but we would stop short, 7 miles down the way, in Rochford. The gravel surface meant there was still some resistance, and pedaling was still a necessity, but the miles rolled by smoothly, and we pedaled up to the Moonshine Gulch Saloon. The rustic facilities did not detract from the burgers in the least, as the large crowd of patrons would certainly attest. We sat for lunch for over an hour – a pleasant distraction from the day’s miles.

After lunch, we continued the downhill roll, which was a much appreciated way to ease back into the saddle. It wasn’t long before we reached another low point along the trail, once again at the Mystic Trailhead (and the van). We resupplied snacks and water, rested up (and psyched up) for another climb (around 900 ft in just 8 miles). We took our time, easing our way up the hill, and pausing to enjoy the two tunnels that segmented the climb. On the backside, we covered the 14 miles descending into Hill City in just a little over half an hour (mostly just rolling along). We reached the Crooked Creek Resort, and our cabin, and split our group once again – just two of us would resume our century ride, going back up and over the climb, and back down into Mystic to retrieve the van.

Setting off, we felt great – there was a staunch tail wind pushing us towards 20 mph (with just 17 miles to go)! It wasn’t far outside of town though, when the wind took a drastic turn – we doubled down on our effort, but progress was slowed, nonetheless. Then, the rain came. First it was just a drizzle, but it slowly increased in intensity. We neared the top of the climb, already soaking wet, when the downpour became a deluge. We raced the last miles – the raindrops felt like rocks as we sped down the trail; the thick cloud cover had stolen daylight, and the tunnels were now pitch back, we braked and braced as we dared the darkness. We counted the mile markers, and knew, at last, we would reach the finish line in one piece – 106 miles and 5,000 feet, entirely on gravel. No pictures could capture the feelings shared, once we arrived back at the cabin.

August 2022 (1)

It has been rather warm (and dry) in central Texas, which has made long rides somewhat more challenging ... the heat by noontime can be dangerous! Thankfully, our stretch of 100°F days was forecast to break in a big way: a high of just 95° with an overcast layer lingering until the lunch hour; better yet, this rather nice break was forecast for a Saturday, meaning there was a chance it could be a more social type ride -- I posted a route in the group chat and hoped for the best.

Around 7am, I rolled up to the local coffee shop (having already clocked 5 miles). Three others were waiting, but no one else would appear -- we were wheels down on the hour. While I am always happy to enjoy a chill ride (especially a long ride), the four of us, as I knew it, each had the power to hold our own for 100 miles, so we knowingly pushed the pace a bit, right out of the gate. We weren't setting any records, but we weren't slacking, either.

Just ten miles into our ride, we caught up with -- as I know now -- a local legend: an older gentleman who holds the prestige of having ridden the Race Across America. He had no trouble joining our pace on the "local road loops", and as it happened, was following our route as far as Seguin. This particular route is flat, straight, and just a year ago, was resurfaced to smooth asphalt. One of our team took point, and we hauled a smooth 20mph all the way into town. We reached our first water stop ahead of schedule, where the former RAAM racer went on his own way.

From Seguin, the route consisted of mostly new roads. Among us, we had one GPS unit on map mode, and I was prepared with a handwritten cue sheet. The miles rolled by: good pavement, minimal traffic, and lightly quartering tailwinds. This continued until we found ourselves on Santa Clara road -- it was smooth going, until we crossed Interstate 10. Afterwards, road construction left the road an unsurfaced, loose gravel. There was a bit of a confusion, as (in hindsight, I say) three of the four of us were comfortable with the conditions, taking off down the gravel road -- when we did turn to notice the missing rider, we couldn't find them! Communication on route can be difficult, and cell phones are not as reliable as many would assume, either -- we did our best, turning back and riding to the beginning of the gravel, but as most experienced cyclists will understand, you always need to be prepared to ride your own ride. We felt bad for losing a rider, but we also had to get ourselves home -- we resigned our search and rescue operation to continue onward.

It was an easy few miles to Solms Park (we had turned so that the wind was finally at our back). We were able to top off our water and rest our legs; the next stretch was Krueger Canyon, a notable (short and challenging) climb into the Hill Country. Admittedly, I was excited -- it had been years since I had dared the climb, and I was determined to best my previous times; ... I did it! After the hard climbing, the next ten or so miles were a treat -- a true sample of rolling hill country roads, all the way back down into New Braunfels, and, Naeglin's Bakery (always a good decision).

Home was near enough, now, even though the sun was starting its ritualistic afternoon blaze. We eased our way out of town, in and out of the noontime traffic. Suddenly, I was on the ground. An oil slick had caused my front wheel to lose traction, and I split the impact between my elbow, hip, and knee. I was overwhelmed with the usual emotions, but mostly frustration -- frustration at automobility, automobiles, and individuals' automotive dependence. I tried to get past that, and surveyed the damage, which was minimal, but the potential for injuries (that might be obscured by adrenaline and such) would continue to eat at me all the way home.

It was such a good ride, up to that point (at mile 80), that I refused to let such a small slip up get me down. Instead, I channeled what energy I could down into the pedals, determined to hold the strong pace we had set for the day. I saw 22, 25, and 27 mph as I was pulling (with a tailwind, of course). I traded pulls with the other riders, too, and combined, our efforts would net me a few more personal records -- on sections I had ridden many, many times before.

Overall, we finished the ride at 17.7mph average, riding one hundred miles in less than 6 hours. Not necessarily a race pace, but certainly more than dawdling about. Of course, I like to dawdle too -- but maybe I'll save that for a 70°F day in October!

August 2022 (2)

It has still been rather warm (and dry) in central Texas (including fire bans and reported wildfires). There was no break in the weather, yet there was a palpable interest in pursuing yet another 100-mile day -- not just for myself, but again, as a bit of a social event. In order to make the ride more accessible (and to keep the pace up, perhaps to beat the heat), I outlined a flat course with very few traffic controls or turns to memorize: a series of out-and-back shuttle-loops on highway shoulders to two nearby cities, before finishing up with a small loop of popular local roads. The route also provided multiple opportunities to bail on the ride, in case we became overwhelmed with heat or fatigue (after all, I had already ridden a century for August)!

As usual of a group ride, we met up at the local coffee spot, which left me rolling from home at about seven in the morning; I hadn't slept the best, and despite lots of morning coffee, I quickly realized my first mistake: I had left without my water bottles (which I had carefully arranged the night before). I had time enough to grab a sport-top water bottle from the nearest gas station, just before rallying 'round the troops. We were off right on time -- we began down the road, five riders strong.

The beginning of the course had a fair amount of hills (compared to the highways ahead), and we were sure to take it easy, leaving plenty of breath for the typical morning banter. Despite the rollers, we kept a strong formation to pierce the wind. It was just five miles or so into the ride when we heard another rider -- a late arrival -- yelling behind us. She had put in a strong effort to close the gap on our group-effort -- we joked about "hitting the gas", but ultimately, kept it friendly as we usually try to do, easing up until our five had become six.

We turned onto the main highway not long after, passed under a traffic light (which had stayed green in our direction); with that, the road we were on was clear all the way to Luling, twenty miles ahead without interruption. We didn't bother with formally rolling our paceline, rather, each us took several miles as a turn, pulling into the wind. It only took us an hour to reach our first break, Mom's Front Porch Coffee & Ice Cream -- the drinks were reasonably priced, as were the oversized oatmeal cookies; we languished a bit, losing time, but enjoying the moment all the same. We left feeling refreshed: another thirty mile stretch lay ahead.

We backtracked for about ten miles, before taking a right turn towards Lockhart. We were enjoying a bit of a tailwind on both legs, a real treat, but fatigue was nonetheless setting in as we neared fifty miles; we took care to rearrange our formation once again -- strongest in the front, sheltering those riders seeking to set their own personal records for the day. By the time we reached Valero (and Mario's Tacos), we were somewhat roasted. I doubled up with more sunscreen and filled my bottles, drank them down, and topped them off again; it took more than a few minutes for my appetite to settle -- or rather, for me to decide I needed to eat (and pack some gummy bears for the road).

We seemed to feel well rested, and so took off again in high spirits. We began to retrace our miles, backwards from Lockhart towards Martindale. We were doing well, but a flat tire caused us a bit of a pause. We rallied around, again, this time in the blazing sun -- we didn't seem to notice the heat, at least not yet. Rolling again, the city was just a few miles ahead -- we had made good time against the headwind. We stopped briefly, for water, then set off down the highway once again, soon to cross the San Marcos River into familiar territories.

Our final stretch was thirty miles of local loops -- most of the elevation for the days ride would come about in these last few stretches; compounding the challenge, there were limited amenities in the rural countryside ahead. We had discussed the lack of water ahead, but talk wasn't enough to adequately prepare us; just ten miles past the last store, where we were furthest from home, two of our riders started to doubt themselves -- we tried the usual cheering and jeering, but they were approaching their limits. At mile eighty-five, one pulled into the shade -- they were nearly overheated. We shared water and salts, and made offers of food; slowly, they recovered enough of themselves to assure us it wasn't an emergency (yet), and that we could continue on -- we aimed for the popsicle stand just five miles ahead.

We pedaled, slowly but surely, to Gringo's Shaved Ice -- it was, at that moment, paradise. A shaded retreat, stocked with fruit pops and ice cold water. We still had ten miles to go, but surely, we would finish now. We rolled back into San Marcos under a fully blazing Texas sun. We had made great time, in spite of the heat; the century was under eight hours, with over an hour spent at the various stops along the way (all of which I'd visit again). Nonetheless, I'm still anxious for that first lick of fall weather to make its way here.

August 2022 (3)

I set out to relax, mainly to take my mind off work. All of my deadlines are met, all of my best preparations are made, and there is really nothing left to do until tomorrow, so I promised myself a long day out on the bike. Originally, I had planned on one of my usual 100km routes, and angled over towards River Road.

With a relaxed mind and a heavily overcast day, I set out my second goal of the day: more heart rate experiments. I only acquired a fresh heart rate monitor a few weeks back and have been taking the numbers relatively seriously. Initially, I thought I would seek out a good tempo, staying below threshold, maybe to throw in a couple red line efforts on the last hour home, but, I really have a hard time with these training plans.

I did hold my tempo, including through some gravel detours and into a stiff headwind, all the way to Gruene (around thirty miles by that point). Then I started down River Road with a prominent tailwind; I I just couldn't help myself -- I hit my threshold, went over it, and when I saw the pace, I just kept pushing, right up towards my redline. I thought I might get a PR! (I did not.)

At Sattler, the usual turn-around, I was beat down (as expected) and stopped just to sit. I contemplated, and settled on a full-sugar soda for a quick me pick up, and then started back towards home. The earlier road construction had added some mileage already, and I was approaching 50 -- if I just went back the way I came, I could finish yet another century for the month. I paced myself more conservatively for the twelve miles back to Gruene, where a free water fountain assured rehydration; I topped up, and added one ice cream sandwich (for immediate consumption) and some gummy worms (for the three or so hours to go).

Of course, this journal is evidence of another successful century ride, although admittedly, the heat did start to get to me -- I was rationing water for the last ten miles, though not quite in any dire condition. I earned quite a few personal records on various segments, but mostly only those in the first half of the ride (when my tempo had yet to be broken, and, more surprisingly, against the wind). Perhaps one of these days, I'll get more serious about my training plans.

September 2022 (1)

Supposedly, it was to be a small, but fast group ride -- around 60-70 miles; I knew I wanted to go further, but was worried I might be burned up with the team by the time we were finished. Fortunate for this journal, no one was responding at 6:30am. I left home all the same, intent on passing by the usual coffee shop around 7: no one was waiting there.

Rather than obsess about the group, I made up my mind to head forward into the headwind -- it was early and the real gusts had yet to set in, so I knew I was setting myself up for an easier ride home. I traced the "Old Stagecoach" route, which follows the Balcones Escarpment northward, eventually vanishing into Austin's sprawl. I stopped in Buda, about 25 miles into the day, for a Shipley's Do-nut and a chocolate milk; the hefty breakfast would carry me long into the morning. There was time enough to check the weather too, which had changed, from a forecast of rain to a much more dry, but still overcast day -- it was then that I decided there was a real shot at a hundred mile day.

For the last several years that I've been in Texas, I had been meaning to ride to downtown Austin, at least as far as the Colorado River -- today would be the day. I charted some new roads -- Old San Antonio, First Street, and Congress, which lead straight to the heart of downtown. There were varying bicycle amenities, from signage to physically separated lanes, but nothing was consistent and the pavements where I was told to ride were often of substandard quality -- I didn't expect to be impressed, and I wasn't. I reached the river, but I didn't stop there; instead I was drawn in by the mesmerizing marble stonework of the State Capitol Building. I didn't stay long, though, as I set about to explore, stumbling upon the Shoal Creek trail in the process.

I wanted to appreciate the trail, but I just could not -- the short sections of trail I rode took me past various homeless encampments, and signs warning of the potential for flash floods revealed the 'truer' purposes of the 'recreational' facilities. Eventually, I wound my way back up to the street-level and routed down towards Town Lake (a slack water reservoir of the Colorado River). The river front facilities were much more well kempt, though busy: even the joggers seemed to be frustrated with the traffic at times! I was in no hurry, and was as courteous as I could be, but I was thankful to be just visiting -- Austin could really use more green spaces throughout the city.

Heading eastward, the trail tapered off to a terminus at Pleasant Valley Road, which sat perched atop the Longhorn Dam. After crossing the dam, the trails began anew on the south riverfront -- I angled back westward. At one point, the trail ventured onto a long boardwalk out over what's known as Ladybird Lake. The boardwalk appears well thought out, offering both recreational opportunity along with touristic views of the city -- but it is also a tacit admission of the private land ownership which has staked an unshakeable claim on Austin's natural resources. In any case, the overcast sky was warmly welcomed -- it was still hot and humid, but the at least the sun was being kept at bay.

I made it as far as Barton Creek and on passed Zilker Park before I was fully exhausted by the crowded paths. I checked the map and set a course for another of Austin's recreational facilities: the Veloway. Unfortunately, there were no clear and direct routes to get there (at least by bicycle), and I ended up tracing a precarious route, following the MoPac Expressway south until I had escaped under both Loop 360 and State Highway 71; honestly, the traffic along the expressway frontage was fairly accommodating, and even other bicyclists could be seen at various points on the way.

It was actually along two other quasi-residential roads (better described as stroads) -- Brodie and Slaughter Lanes -- which were both marked as bicycle routes, where I encountered the worst drivers of the entire day! I'm not easily spooked on the road, but I can say I will never be riding in those areas of Austin, ever again; it's frustrating to say the least, as these roads pass by countless homes, apartments, and even a major high school! Nonetheless, I did survive, and before long, I was doing some low-stress rolling recovery on the dedicated three mile bike path loop, fully enjoying the sweeping corners and gentle climbs.

I counted up to mile 86 on the Veloway -- and then realized it would be at least 30 miles back to San Marcos. I knew I had to go for the 200 kilometer mark! I topped up my bottles and turned back out onto the roads, homeward. I reached the century mark in Kyle, right at a popular convenience store; while I didn't think I needed anything, I thought it best to add a little fuel, anyway. I started at the soda fountain, and went all-in on some full-sugar soda; only after did I realize the freezer case still had Choco-Tacos: I had to have one (as they are supposedly discontinued now)! Realizing this, I briefly wished I would have mixed half-diet on the soda, but what's done was done.

The rest of the route home was nearly the same as the one I had traveled outward on, but this time with a strong tailwind. I even set some personal records, despite the late stage of the ride. Once back in San Marcos, I needed a few extra miles and convinced myself to tackle a trip up the escarpment; it went surprisingly well, and at least it's true: what goes up must come back down! I made it home at about 4, which was a good pace all in all (especially considering the slow roll on the riverfront trails). Even better, the forecast had changed again -- the much needed rain arrived, just as I sat down to write this journal -- it was as perfect a summer day as I could have planned.

September 2022 (2)

On Labor Day, I had planned a long ride that was unceremoniously ended in just twenty minutes by two flat tubes and a ruined tire -- it was the first time I phoned for a ride in years. I spent the remainder of the holiday tidying up various projects for work and hatched a new plan: I'd ride a midweek century to make up for lost miles (and to break in the new tire). I arose on Wednesday to a typical forecast: clear, dry, and hot, approaching 95°F as early as noon with the heat index set to break three-digits. I knew I would have to be efficient and well paced to beat the heat -- but I wasn't dissuaded from taking a traditional Hill Country course out to Dripping Springs.

I set off around 7am. Although I have been commuting by bicycle, the day's morning rush hour seemed particularly hectic; in reality, it was probably more my own perception, of a mind focused on the hours rather than mere minutes. By mile ten, in any case, I was onto the hilly back roads to Wimberley, where the traffic was nonexistent, and I could begin to listen closely to my breathing.

Recently, I have been training with a heart rate monitor, and while I didn't bring it along for the century, it has helped me immensely to better understand my efforts and my pacing. I wasn't out to set any particular records, but I knew I wanted to keep the climbs easy and to be certain I was adding a reasonable effort on the downs. Overall, my first couple hours were a bit slower than I had anticipated; nonetheless, the Welch's Fruit Snacks I had packed were plenty enough to keep my energy up, and my water was draining only very slowly. I made it through Wimberley, and out to the "Mountains" (Sharp and Gainor) feeling exceptional.

I followed the same pacing strategy all the way to Dripping Springs -- where I would normally stop for a bit of food and water. Today, however, I was watching the clock, and thought I could do without. I turned, back towards Wimberley, and started a mental countdown to the water stop. I arrived to the store with a little over four hours on the clock, pacing just a bit under 25 kilometers per hour (about 15.5 miles per hour). All that remained was a "typical weekday training ride", and I'd be home with another century under my wheels.

After topping up on water and adding a few more gummy bears to the bag, it was off to Fulton Ranch Road, and the climb colloquially known as "the Manmaker". I've ridden it many times before, but it's rare that I put in any real effort -- it is just that steep and difficult. But my pacing must have worked well, as did my choices for fuel (mostly simple gummy sugars): I pushed hard part way up the hill, and while I had to take a seat for a few moments, it wasn't long before I was back out of the saddle, rocking the bike side to side, and climbing with grace (and a little bit of speed).

It wasn't my fastest climb on the steepest pitch -- but technically the hill keeps going for another two to three miles beyond (at a much more mild 3-6% grade) -- I was feeling surprisingly fresh and thought maybe I could still improve my time to the "true" top of the climb. I probably could have put in more effort too, because even afterwards, I was pushing my pace upwards quite a bit, even as the winds started to push back against my efforts.

By the time I made it back to San Marcos, and near to home, the wind was roaring and giant cumulus clouds had started rising on the horizon. I actually appreciated the shade from the sun, even as I knew the rain would be soon to follow -- the change in the weather (wholly unpredicted) gave a renewed strength to my legs, and while the headwind would prevent any sort of record breaking attempts, I arrived home just before two in the afternoon, still feeling great and entirely on pace. Best of all, my cyclometer had recorded several personal bests, including the "Manmaker and Still Climbing".

September 2022 (3)

Another weekend arrived after a long week at work; I still had work to do, too. I needed to break away, so I arose early to finish my coffee early, and to be out on the road by 7 am. It was to be overcast all morning, and I thought I could take advantage -- the reprieve from the sun -- to get a serious about by century pacing. At 25 miles, I had hardly noticed that I was holding a high pace and was feeling wonderful. By 35 miles, I was aiming for an even higher pace, in Zone 4 (according to my heart rate monitor); I became determined to hold it.

It's not surprising that I'd be feeling fine -- I have put in an exceptional number of long rides this year. I stopped briefly at Lockhart, around mile 55 mph; I was averaging over 17 miles per hour, and thought I had a chance to set some personal milestones. A made my stop brief, quickly returning to the cranks and the open road. I pushed my pace back up near to, but just under, my limits. The last few miles to 100 would take just over two and a half hours, bringing my total elapsed time to 5 hours, 55 minutes: a sub-6 hour century ride.

It's been, in part, the data that has helped push me this far -- the opportunity to see my progress and its minutiae. Technically, this was not my fastest average speed -- as it works out, often times faster averages result from longer breaks (and longer elapsed times); for covering longer distances, it is elapsed time that becomes a somewhat uncommon metric, but an important one nonetheless: your average speed on the bike adjusted by the amount of rest and recoveries taken during the ride.

Despite the trends of getting slightly faster and taking fewer and faster breaks, it is hard to imagine how long I can continue to improve, or how much ceiling there even is to raise? Will I even be able to maintain this progress, or will I have to face the peaks in my performance sooner, rather than later?

September 2022 (4)

I didn't think I could; I didn't think I would. I started pedaling just after 7 -- it was still about 30 minutes to sunrise, and the days are only getting shorter. My goal was at least 30, maybe 50 or 62.3, but then, there really wasn't a reason not to try for 100; the days are finally comfortably under 100°F, and the humidity has been minimal this past week, too.

At first, I angled south into the prairies, where it was easy to keep my effort subdued while the miles slowly rolled by. Not content with loops in the cornfields, I tacked westward towards New Braunfels and the eminent River Road. I passed 50 miles before the end of the road, at Sattler. Feeling good -- and knowing I was about 30 miles from home -- next came the task of choosing a few more miles to make the century. From Sattler, I set about a short out-and-back, up and over the hill, down through the gorge, and back up again, to the top of the Canyon Lake Dam.

The dam, it was back down through the gorge, and up and over the hill again, to get back to Sattler. I briefly considered stopping -- at mile 58 -- but decided I could pace on for another hour to the station just past Gruene. Aside from some playful sprinting with a few of the motorcycles that passed, I kept my effort low and steady.

At the station, around mile 72, I was mostly stiff and sore, but not really hungry. I topped off on water, figuring just about 2 more hours under the sun. Even better, clouds had started to cover the sky, creating patches of rolling overcast all along the route. Despite still fasting, my energy levels were still strong; once back into the 'local loops', I was actually able to push the power up a notch. Even so, my average speed for the day was relatively fixed (around 14 mph), but that's okay -- I surprised myself, being able to push through: just 12 minutes off the bike out of an elapsed 6 hour and 46 minute ride.

Finishing up today means I've ridden a century a week this September, which is perhaps less sustainable than simply riding a century a month, but still an impressive feat in its own right.

October 2022 (1)

It started as any other friendly ride -- at 8am at the coffee shop. It was a smaller group, and we started our roll south towards New Braunfels. I was initially relieved by the steady pace, as my legs hadn't quite recovered from the hill repeats the night before. Our plan was to ride up River Road, and while I had been up that way on my last century, it is an irresistible route.

After the first hour, I was starting to feel warmed up; we were approaching the ten miles of River Road with no stops and no cross traffic. Unfortunately, because of the limits of time, some of our group had to turn back (just as the going got good, or so I thought). In any case, that left just two of us to push on to Sattler -- and push we did.

It was a cool morning and the shadows had been long; I hadn't gone through much water at all, so was content with a short break to refuel (mostly just the fruit snacks I had packed, as well as a bit of Gatorade to top off the bottles). We started rolling again and returned to a vigorous pace. I kept my efforts right around threshold, and was grateful for every time we traded pulls -- I needed the alternating rests to keep the power up.

We raced almost all the way to Gruene, and then back to San Marcos -- still, we never attacked on the hills and I never felt my heart enter "Zone 5" (meaning I was never left gasping or crying for air). By the time we were back to town, it was only eleven in the morning and we had already knocked out over sixty miles. While my partner would have to split off, I felt like pushing on.

Ultimately, I ended up skirting town and turning out into the Hill Country once again. I went as far out as the Blanco River -- the shallow stream is something truly gorgeous, but the real reason to descend to the water is to force yourself to climb back out of the valley: parts of the road go to around 17% grade. At the top, I ate the last of my fruit snacks and added some Gatorade powder to what water I had left. The day was getting warm enough to worry a bit about water, but I was sure I would be fine -- it was only a little over an hour home.

Officially, my October century is complete and I'm 'free' to move on to other goals, and yet, I really enjoy these long rides. Maybe there will be another century yet this month, or maybe even another 200k.

October 2022 (2)

I posted a ride notice to the local group's discussion board, but hadn't generated much interest; nonetheless, I did my best to get up and out of the house early, planning at least a three hour ride -- of course, I'd end up out under the sun for nearly eight hours.

It was after 8:00 am when I was finally rolling down the block, though I had taken the time to attentively air up my tires, lubricate the chain, and even gave the derailleurs a quick wipe down. The bike was running smooth, and responding well to my inputs (which weren't all that impressive, in reality). I soon found myself wrapping around the New Braunfels Airport, though there would be no plane spotting -- a slow rolling warm front had brought in a low-level cloud deck, which was thankfully keeping the sun off my back. From the airport, it was only a few miles over to Gruene and the well-worn River Road (I should count how many of my centuries have featured that segment).

My mood hadn't changed from the morning, and I worked my way up the Guadalupe River valley only focusing on the steadiness of my pace and the smoothness of my operations. According to the data, I set a Personal Record on my way to Sattler (which was surprising, except I did the help of a tailwind).

In Sattler, I had my choice -- either to turn back home for a little more than 100km route, or to push onward, deeper into the Hill Country. Of course, the only reasonable option was the longer route; I did choose to stay close to the Balcones Escarpment, though, leaving myself some shortcuts home, in case I started feeling overwhelmed. I kept climbing: 306, Purgatory, out to the Devil's Backbone, ending with the rolling hills of Mail Route and Fischer Store Roads.

It was 75 miles before I reached Wimberley, where I was in dire need of more water. To try and cool down a bit, I angled for the local Dairy Queen for a burger and a tall soda. The service was a bit slow, but I tried to appreciate the rest -- the last few months I had been focused on minimizing my elapsed time and it was refreshing just to relax a bit on the afternoon.

After fueling up, it was an easy roll down through the Wimberley town square, down to the peaceful Flite Acres road, and down to the Blanco River. From the river, it is a straight ride back up the walls of the river valley, up Fulton Ranch Road at grades approaching 20%. I kept it slow and steady, but never needing to stop and walk -- once at the top, I started trying to estimate my pace the rest of the way home.

I never did pick up the pace all that much; making about 15 mph for the day (just under 25 km/h). I should be more impressed with the result than I feel, considering it was over 5,000 feet of elevation gain, but it seems I have become somewhat attached to the paces I've been setting in the prairies (which are closer to 17-18mph). In any case, Das Hugel is just a month away, and if I have the opportunity to participate, I need to be sure to get in as much climbing as possible beforehand.

November 2022 (1)

It is officially fall in central Texas -- a strong cold front passed through the region yesterday, bringing temperatures down towards 50°F; the locals are already reaching for jackets and hats to start their mornings. While I have started to acclimate to the Texan summers (and I really enjoy a humid 80°F ride), I've resolved to maintain my fortitude against the cold. I set out around 6:20am, a bit later than I intended, but still nearly an hour and a half before sunrise -- the morning was brisk but manageable: I worked hard on the uphills and relaxed on the downhills, trying to keep the body warm and the wind chill to a minimum.

The group gathered around the coffee shop at 8am, just a few minutes after official sunrise -- we were still standing in the long shadows. Last minute arrangements caused a few minutes delay; I tried to relax, since I had already logged 20 miles. Once we were rolling, it was a smooth effort as far as Gruene (interrupted only briefly by a train), and then onto River Road. I had saved a bit of energy, holding back in the pack, hoping to make a strong pull along the scenic river route -- my effort lasted about halfway, about 5 miles, before I had to ease up to the back of the pack again. The pace was back to a smooth effort the remainder of the way to our stop at the Sattler convenience store.

We made a quick stop of it, and without much delay, we were pedaling out towards Farm to Market 306, and a notable hill: the ridge between the Guadalupe River and Purgatory Creek. I hadn't planned too, but I was feeling great (at mile 50) and decided to go for it on the steep rise -- I nearly gave up partway, but I kept watching my mirror, and pushed hard to stay ahead. (They say you should ride with faster folks to get faster, but I find myself pushing that little bit harder even in friendly social rides with all kinds of folks) -- I set a PR for the section.

We regrouped after the rise, just as we embarked onto Purgatory Road (and into the headwind). As a group, we conscientiously tightened our formation against the gusts and took turns in the lead. Our primary motivation was a sustainable pace -- but it was a quick pace, nonetheless; before long we reached Hugo Road, and started counting down the miles until the coffee shop. It was just 10 miles along the rolling backroad and finishing with the broad shoulder of Ranch Road 12.

Back at the coffee shop, it was just a bit past 11am and I had already logged over 70 miles. While the sun was intense, the temperature was only in the low 70°F's -- I knew I could handle another two hours. I set out towards the local loop of York Creek and did two loops. I tried to keep the pace up but also modest. I was home in time for a late lunch.

In reflection -- November is a busy month, and this ride was, admittedly, mostly about getting in a century before the Holidays. At the same time, I'm optimistic that next week I might be able to participate in the Das Hugel ride (in Austin) for the fourth time. If so, I'll have another century yet to write about this month.

November 2022 (2)

It is officially fall in central Texas -- a strong cold front passed through the region yesterday, bringing temperatures down towards 40°F: arm warmers, jackets, earbands, and buffs were common attire among the crowd gathered under the Mopac Expressway, at Zilker Park in Austin. It was a 7:15 am departure, though as an untimed event, some riders were off early, and certainly some were off late; my clock started at 7:16, behind what was likely a hundred or more riders.

Although it was cold, the sun was over the horizon, and the first few miles through the city were relatively sheltered from the wind. Traffic lights pared down the initial wave into smaller pulses, taking a lane and some times more. Those around me knew the faster riders were long gone, but anyone brave enough to ride Das Hugel mostly knows the value of a good wheel on which to hang -- especially as the route turned out into the northerly wind, exposed along Texas Loop 360. It's only 5 miles to until the turn towards our ascent of the High Road, but even just a few short rotations in the paceline were enough to boost both the pace and the camaraderie.

The next sections -- climbs up River Hills and Lost Creek -- are not too onerous as the hills, though long, are mostly modest gradients. I skipped my early stops, opting to eat only a Clif Bar around mile 25 (and mostly while still pedaling forward). Keeping my efforts modest, I wasn't feeling hungry, and in the cold, I had only needed a bit of water. My pace was slow, relying on my lowest gears; many others were doing the same, falling into a similar pace as me; we often took turns, exchanging places, appearing and disappearing over the crests.

At mile 40, the route wound back to Zilker Park, back to the start. Many of the days' riders would opt to end their ride. I remembered to eat my second Clif Bar and added a few pouches of sugary fruit snacks before turning around and going back up Stratford Drive -- it's a short pitch but aggravatingly steep after cooling down for even a moment. The reward thereafter is a gorgeous few miles along Lake Austin Boulevard and Scenic Drive, until the route begins its inevitable suffering on its way to the top of Mount Bonnell, Cat Mountain, and North Cat Mount (via Smokey Valley) in rapid succession. After, there's only a brief reprieve on the way to Great Hills (via Lost Horizon). By then, I was 5 hours and 60 miles into the route with over 6,000 feet of climbing; I started counting down from 50 and 5,000 left to ride -- shouldn't need be more than 5 hours! (The mental inversion also meant a constant supply of mental math problems.) The route plunges towards Pennybacker Bridge before turning onto Courtyard; a photographer was waiting near the top, capturing the riders go by.

Photo credit: cycling.frenzied.us

From Courtyard, the route turns up City Park Road, beginning an out and back tour of the Oasis at Lake Travis and the bottom of the Mansfield Dam. Just 5 miles ahead, at mile 70, is Sun Tree Park, and an impromptu aid station. I'm grateful for a bit of water and a Star Crunch, which reignites my appetite. In just 6 miles, after Oasis and climbing up Bullick Hollow, I stopped at the 7-Eleven for two Gatorades, two slices of pepperoni pizza and large Dr. Pepper -- I had promised myself a more formal sit down lunch this trip around Hugel, but I opted to just go with what sounded good at the time.

The ride after 'lunch' started off downhill on Ranch to Market 620, with a quick turn and a climb up, from the bottom of the dam back to the top of the reservoir on an easy gradient -- the modest warmup works well to settle the pizza. Next is a quick jaunt back up to Sun Tree, where the aid station is winding down and the riders are thinning out. The route makes a small deviation on the return -- down Big View Drive, a no outlet Cul-de-sac -- only to have to return up a 17% gradient at mile marker 90. Once on top, it is a smooth roll down City Park, and back to Jester, which just before mile 100, is now the second to last climb of the route. Because of deteriorating traffic conditions on the Austin expressways, the ride was modified this year to return via the Shoal Creek bike lanes. The only trick is, connecting to that requires an added trip up Far West Boulevard -- most influentially, the climbing now continues well past the century mark, but ultimately, does divert the riders to a quieter neighborhood route -- it's a slower finish to the ride, in any case.

I finished up feeling better than ever, but also knowing that I hadn't really tried real hard in the first place (by intention). I was relieved and elated simply to have completed yet another Hugel in good fashion and good form. My patience resulted in my slowest moving time ever -- just 12.6 miles per hour. But, despite spending 8 hours and 40 minutes on the saddle, this year I spent the least amount of time off the saddle: just 36 minutes (where previous rides were 0:42, 1:07, and 1:07). Not only that, but I am certain that I could have continued on -- 200k certainly, 300k, who knows? While the ride was slower, my pacing was better than ever.

Either way, fast or slow, it was another successful day out on the bike, as most of them are.

December 2022 (1)

The Thanksgiving celebrations had kept me away from the bike a bit more than usual, and now that the festivities are wrapped up (until Christmas), I've been steadily ramping my mileage backup -- first with a 55 mile ride last week, and a few shorter and higher intensities rides in between. While I wasn't sure if I had 100 miles in the legs, I planned out a loop through Wimberley and around Mount Sharp, in the Hill Country.

I left around 7:40, and was a minute late passing the coffee shop -- 8:01. Another rider was waiting there for me, and once mounted, we set off into a brisk north wind. Fulton Ranch offered the usual rollers, right up until the stark descent into the Blanco River Valley. Together, we passed through Wimberley, and on to the hills around Jacob's Well. We made it to a high point on the loop, then enjoyed a long descent -- it's not steep, rather, it just carries you on for a good two miles. At last, we turned onto Fischer Store Road, crossed the Blanco River again, and made good time back to Wimberley with a good push from the wind. I was already nearing 60 miles, and had at least 20 more to home; even though the miles were going slowly (and morning had become afternoon), I resolved to finish the century for the month, lest the holidays get in the way.

We split at Wimberley, and I was on my own pace -- despite being sore in the legs, I pushed on, aiming for a respectable 15 mph; I'd still need to ride almost another 3 hours. While I contemplated various routes, I ended up on a few of my short-lap roads -- I knew the distances to the tenth of a mile, and was able mentally relax on the familiar turns. It was another great day out on the bike, and perhaps the last century of 2022. As it's my third year of following this regimen, that makes for 36 consecutive months of riding at least one century each month -- and with a few extras thrown in, I can safely say I've completed well over 50 century rides to date: my goal, now, is an Eddington Number of 100 (100 days with 100 miles each)!

December 2022 (2)

It wasn't warm, but it wasn't exactly cold either -- the morning was down in the 40s (°F), but quickly climbed to over 60 with the sun shining bright. Rather than race out the door after my morning coffee, I sat around until almost noon; I was anxious as I waited. See, it was Thursday, and that meant there was likely to be a group ride around 6:30pm in the evening, where we'd ride about 25 miles together -- I wanted to participate in that event, but also wanted to get for a long ride (and what better type of long ride than to plan a century).

I was rolling just after 12:00pm, but rather slow and steady. I took a route up through town and ventured into one of the 'no outlet' hill country neighborhoods (these can stretch for miles into the hills and typically offer some challenging climbs). I finished up the loops, and headed back to the main road: I was nearly 30 miles into the day, and hadn't even left the city limits.

With water left in my bottles and a few snacks still in my pocket, I turned north, towards Kyle; this took me up Post Road and onto Old Stagecoach Trail -- it is among the best of the short routes in town: curvy, hilly but never steep, tree lined, few cross streets, and minimal traffic (especially during University holidays). I followed the road to the north side of Kyle before looping back again towards San Marcos. My gaze drifted across the ranches, homesteads, and new developments that lined the old mail route, the miles kept ticking up -- nearing 60 now -- but I was starting to get a bit dry.

I stopped at Spring Lake -- it's a great park to take a minute's rest and top up on water. The only downside is, the park serves as an invitation to, once again, climb the Balcones Escarpment. So, feeling refreshed, I pushed my bike out from under the shade of the trees and back out onto the road. I turned towards the hills and dropped into my lowest gears, mentally (and physically) bracing for the short but steep climbs (often well over 10% grade). I kept rolling through the hills, until I reached (arguably) 'the top', then chanced a trip down the longest and steepest hill within the city limits -- Oak Ridge. While I have done repeats there in the past, it was enough to conquer the 17% grade just one time along the day's ride.

After a few laps around the western limits of the city (and the relaxed traffic along the "Country Estates" loop), it was time to grab a late lunch and coordinate my timing with the group ride still to come. I was at mile 75 when I stopped for a couple of tacos and a large soda; even though it was still early, I felt as if I was close to finishing the century all ready -- after all, there was no way I was going to let the group down!

We rolled out from the coffee shop at 6:30, right on time. It was chilly after sunset, but not quite cold (some of the group were still wearing just shorts and a jersey). The ride went as smooth as any, with calm winds and good company. The group's pace was almost certainly higher than my own solo, and though I was sore and fatigued, the paceline whisked me along, and helped me to properly dig deep.

I didn't expect to finish another century this month, but I'm glad I took the opportunity!

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