Owl

This evening while I was running, I came across a great horned owl sitting on a log by the side of the path. The owl didn't move as I came by and stopped but just looked at me and blinked. It didn't seem hurt - just chilling out on a log. I have never seen anything like it.

This is another reason why people should get outside. It's a unique experience that you can't have if you only go from your house to your car to wherever. It is a side effect to being outside and actively using your body - you might see a once in a lifetime thing.

Race Across the Sky

On Thursday I saw Race Across the Sky, the documentary about the Leadville Trail 100, at my local cinema. It is not the best documentary out there, but some of the scenes are awe-inspiring and the race is clearly an amazing experience for all involved. Lance Armstrong, the winner of the race this year, may have his faults but he is such an extraordinary athlete and probably a cool guy to hang with.

Ooze and Rubber; or the Ups and Downs of Tubeless Tires

Some people love Stan's tubeless system, some people hate it. If you look at internet review sites, it's either got 5 stars or 1 star. I haven't made up my mind yet. I think it is a killer system because of how it performs, but you must recognize that setting it up is an exercise in frustration. 

These are the things I have learned since using it. 

• Lower tire pressures are really nice for mountain biking, like everyone claims.
• The sealant works. When you get a puncture, it will seal up right away. 
• You can waste a whole day trying to set it up before you shallow your pride and go to a bike shop where they can do it in 10 minutes.
• Don't even bother trying to get your tires to seat with a floor pump. Use a compressor. Take your wheels to a gas station or bike shop if you have to.
• Tubes are way easier. Except that they get flats.

Last spring, I decided to jump belatedly on the tubeless tire bandwagon and find out what the big deal was. I bought the Stan's No Tubes kit and thought I would give it a shot. I followed the instructions exactly, and everything was great until I tried to inflate and seat the tires on the rims. It wouldn't work, at all. I had sweat running down my face while pumping with one hand and trying to coax the tire bead to seat with the other. Finally, I gave in and took the wheels to the shop. $10 and ten minutes later I was on my way to tubeless bliss.

The last few months they have ridden well and have held air - no complaints. Earlier this week I got a puncture on the sidewall and after splashing some sealant around it was sealed. I noticed that there didn't seem to be much sealant left after 4 months of summer, so this weekend I decided to add some. Thinking I could simply pop part of the tire bead off, pour in the sealant, pump it up and be on my way, I tried it myself.

It didn't seat, again. I even bought a garden sprayer to use as sort of a homemade compressor. That didn't work either - not enough pressure. So again, I took it to the shop. They let me use the compressor and a few minutes later I was done. Hopefully I'm good for a few months.

So when people talk about how great Stan's tubeless system is, they are right. They are just leaving out the part about setting it up.

Spirituality on Two Wheels

Mountain biking is a spiritual experience. I find peace in the quiet of the woods, humility in the effort that is required, and beauty in the motion between the rider, the bike, and the ground. After every ride, no matter how demanding or bruising it was, I feel refreshed. I have sweated out any negativity and cleared my mind of chaotic thoughts. There is no time for mental chatter when a moment's inattention in a rock garden means breaking a bone. Riding purifies me.

Today I had to attend an event for work. I brought my bike in order to ride afterwards at a nearby park. The event went longer than expected, and then traffic on the drive delayed me further. I was annoyed and tense all the way there; muttering to myself. Then I arrived, unpacked, and rode 15 miles. On the way home there was traffic too, but I didn't care. I was at peace.

24 Solo

I watched 24 Solo last night from Netflix. It is a documentary about 24 hour mountain bike race champion Chris Eatough. While most mountain bike films are about "gravity" events like downhill and freeriding, this movie makes racing cross-country for an entire day interesting. On the surface, you wouldn't think that there would be much drama in a race where the contenders can finish 30 minutes or more apart, but the filmmakers do a good job of condensing the important events into a shorter format. They also have some excellent photography, both with helmet cameras and cable cameras.

What is remarkable to me is how the guys that do 24 hour races solo are not really in it for the money or the fame, because there is not much of either. They either really like what they do or are extremely obsessed and driven. The amount of pain and suffering that they experience must be astronomical. I would really be interested to know how it compares to the exertion required for the Tour de France.

Mount Evans by bike

Yesterday I fulfilled a goal for myself of riding to the top of Mount Evans (14,264 ft) from my sister's house in Evergreen, CO (7400 ft). It was a long ride: 36 miles almost all uphill, then 36 miles down.

With a forecast for good weather, and the temperature in the 40s, I started out around 7:30 AM from Evergreen and headed up Evergreen Parkway towards Bergen Park. As I was going up the first hills, I started thinking, "This is not going to happen!" I was not warmed up and my legs were feeling tired already. However, I started to get into a rhythm and by the time I turned up Squaw Pass Road I was feeling better.

Up Squaw Pass Road was a long grind. The forest changed from mostly ponderosa pine to spruce and lodgepole pine. I was surprised by the amount of development in the area. There are houses all along the road (although mostly hidden) and even a few subdivisions. I wonder what it is like to live at 10,000 feet in the winter.

As I was riding, I was slowly watching the elevation creep upwards on my GPS. 8500, 9000, 9500 feet above sea level. Sometimes it seemed to be going painfully slowly. At certain points, there would be views from the road and I would stop to take a break and some pictures. What I soon found was that breaks are not always beneficial. After starting off again, I would feel good for a minute or two, and then my legs would start to hurt. Standing up and pedaling for about a minute would usually wake them up, and then I would be able to sit down, shift down to a low gear, and spin.

Eventually I got up over 11,000 feet - 3600 feet of climbing. Unfortunately, at that point the road drops down 500 feet to Echo Lake and the entrance to the Mount Evans Auto Road. While it was nice to have a brief downhill, that 500 feet would be a huge bummer on the way home.

At the Echo Lake lodge, I stopped for some coffee and ate some of my food before heading up the auto road. I did not want to bonk on the way up, so I had brought a lot of food with me. It was pretty warm in the sun there, but probably still in the 40s. After about 20 minutes, I paid the $1.50 entrance fee and started up to the summit.

After a short but comparatively steep section, the road quickly rose above treeline at around 11,500 feet. At that point the views opened up dramatically, and a panorama unfolded to the north and west. I passed a couple of riders who had started from Echo Lake. Since it was a weekday at the end of the summer, there was very little car traffic on the road.

Although the road is not very steep (around 5%), the length of the climb and the thinning air were starting to take their toll. I was definitely going slower the higher I went. While the views were spectacular, I was happy to finally get to Summit Lake for a short break.

It is definitely a cold, hostile, but very beautiful environment there. A few of the tourists were looking at me as I rested, then continued on the last 1200 feet to the top. After Summit Lake, the road was closed to car traffic but open to hikers and cyclists. It was nice having the entire road to myself. The road started to go up many switchbacks. It was satisfying to look down and see where I had been, but demoralizing to look up and see where I had to go!

After what seemed like an eternity at 6 mph, I reached the summit. I was exhausted but felt good. I immediately changed some of my wet layers and put on a wind jacket. A couple of German tourists took a picture of me and then I walked the short trail to the true summit. After I came down, the pair of cyclists that I passed arrived and we talked for a bit. Since the weather was looking threatening, and I was getting cold, I headed back down.

The descent was a little nerve-wracking because the condition of the road is not great; there are a lot of cracks and some frost heaves. I didn't take any pictures on the way back because I was tired and just wanted to get home. I stopped again at Echo Lake to refuel, then hit that annoying 500 foot climb. The descent on Squaw Pass Road was a lot of fun and very fast, and the air became much warmer. After about 8 hours (including stops) I rolled into my sisters driveway.

Stats:

Distance: 73.6 miles

Moving time: 6:19

Total Climbing: 8200 feet

Net Elevation Gain: 6900 feet

Average Speed: 11.6 mph

Specialized Trail Crew

Lots of people love cycling. Lots of people love bikes. That much riders can agree on; but then divisions start to form. Some people love mountain biking but don't "get" road cycling. Some people like to ride on the weekends but wouldn't think of commuting on a bike.

I don't feel like I fit into any one category of cyclist. I ride on trails with my 2007 Stumpjumper FSR Expert. I ride on the road with my 2003 Allez Elite. I have commuted in the past on a beater bike. I sometimes race in criteriums, cross-country, and in off-road duathlons. I tour by bike; I climb mountains on the road and on the trail. For me, cycling isn't sliced up into smaller and smaller pieces. It's all one whole; one experience that can be approached in slightly different ways.

Cycling is a state of mind, but it requires something physical. A bike is a material object - a thing - but it assumes meaning to people because of what it allows them to do. We can speed over the ground, roll over dirt and rocks, and fly through the air, all under our own power. Whether railing a turn down buff singletrack or cruising down a rural road on a sunny day, a bike allows us to experience feelings of both exhilaration and peace. But let's face it - with a good bike, it's easier to get those feelings.

I have been serious about riding since 1991, when a high school friend introduced me to mountain biking. I bought a rigid steel Raleigh and rode around the trails of Northern Virginia for years. The short, steep hills and rocks and roots of those trails taught me the skills I use to this day. More importantly, I have many memories of rides with good friends.

I have been through many bikes since that time and have ridden trails of all the places I have lived and visited: New Jersey, Oregon, Washington, and Pennsylvania. Each of those places has something special to offer and has shown me the diversity of trails in this country. Now, living in Southeast Pennsylvania, I ride everything from canal towpaths to the epic singletrack of Blue Marsh Lake.

I like to ride on my own, and I like to ride with others. I like to share my enthusiasm for cycling with others, share the trails I have found, and encourage people to take their riding to the next level. I would love to share my cycling philosophy by being a member of the Specialized Trail Crew.

More info:

Bucks County Cycling (website by me)

Member, Central Bucks Bike Club

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