Its Raining.

Its raining.  It's been raining all day.  The sky is gray, the grass is of the brightest green and doves that call our front yard home are attempting to find shelter in the naked branches of our cherry trees. 

Call me soft, but I just couldn’t will myself out onto the weather today to do my workout today.  Instead I sat on the trainer, suffering in a pool of my own sweat, despite open windows and the trusty Hawaiian Breeze fan. 

As I turned the pedals, I couldn’t help but think about Cyclocross Season.  Watching through the window, the rain running off the roof, I caught myself dreaming of bright smiles emerging mud-splattered faces, dirt covered skin-suits, filthy bikes, and the smell of Northwest KneeWarmers Embrocation. Cross season is 6 months away; too many other races to think about between now and then.  With the smell of sweet rain lingering, I can’t help myself. 

I wonder how many other dedicated cyclists are locked in their respective garages today, watching watts and heart rates and minutes.  How many of them are training for cross? 

After following the Redlands Classic and Milan-San Remo, after spending my most fabulous vacation cycling in Spain, I am ready to race.  I am ready to pull on the spandex and adorn the Sunnyside Kit and suffer.  And suffer I will.  I am upping the ante this season.  I am racing less, expecting more, and training smarter (I might even learn to descend).

And why? What is the purpose of all of this?  Why spin pedals and sweat like a pig and ride my bike when it is pouring rain?  Because I love it.  I love the freedom, the strength, the dedication, and most of all, the community.  My community.  My friends and teammates and comrades.  So, to you (and you know who you are), thank you.  

A Rainy Day Pick-Me-Up

I was sorting through pictures from Spain this morning, an excellent raining day, procrastination activity and couldn’t help but smile when I looked at these two faces.  If you need a raining day pick-me-up, this ones for you!

Riding Bikes Makes Fast Friends

Conversations start easily.

A topic of similar interest is easy to arrive upon.

The pedals turn, the hours pass away and when we part, at the end of the day, a friendship has formed. 

Traveling with your bike in tow is sort of like wearing a florescent pink t-shirt that reads something like, “Dude, let’s ride”.  Most people just look at the shirt and make a quiet comment about bad fashion.  But to the fellow cyclist, waiting for their bike box to emerge from the belly of the plane on a shiny silver conveyor belt, the translation is literal – “Let’s Ride”.  Perhaps tomorrow, after coffee, say 10am?

Venturing halfway across the globe to navigate, on two wheels, narrow Spanish roads and sip small cups of espresso takes a special kind of person.  Someone who finds indefinable joy in reaching the top of one climb only to descend and climb another.  Someone who celebrates the culture of a small island off the coast of mainland Spain.  Someone who loves to ride their bike and has an incurable weakness for chocolate croissants.

No matter where you from, cycling is a common language.  No one is a stranger when you are all away from home.  Holding tightly to the wheel of my newly introduced friend is no easy feat, but I do it for the challenge, for the sense of accomplishment and because I what to see if I can.  Oh, and I to earn a couple extra scoops of chocolate gelato (we had a little deal going). 

Afternoon pastry stops, mountain top photos and evening Cervezas with friends only adds to the enjoyment of a cycling holiday.  Current friendships are forged deeper and what was a new face just days before soon becomes a familiar smile. 

As the dialog unfolds, I learn that my new companions are spectacularly magnificent people; a biophysicist who moonlights as a pro mountain biker (or is it the other way around?), a member of the Scottish mountain biking team, a retired semi-pro road racer who claims to no longer train, but there is no way in heck I can hold her wheel on the decent toward Sa Callobra, the marketing director for a multi-national pharmaceutical company, an Ironman triathlete who also happens to have a couple-few advanced degrees and dabbles in Randonne Racing in the hills of Switzerland.  All gathering in Mallorca from Scotland, England, Switzerland, and Bend – what a fabulous place for a reunion.  New friends to me, Don enjoys the company of old friends he sees only once or twice a year.  He was nice enough to share them with the rest of us.

The love affair that brings Don back to Mallorca each spring isn’t just about the riding, although the roads are pretty darn fabulous, it is the people, the faces, the friendships. 

Seven of us traveled from Bend to Spain; I now know what everyone fancies for breakfast, whether they prefer extra dark or milk chocolate, and what brand of embrocation makes their legs turn bright red.  We stood together in the ice-cool pool after long rides and wished each other a good night’s sleep through the paper thin walls of the hotel. 

It is said that friendships that don’t happen overnight, but I beg to differ.  When you are on two wheels, they do.

Learning to Descend

I don’t have many responsibilities while on holiday and this is fabulous, for the most part.  But, if you know me, you understand that I am a person who likes to have something to do, something to accomplish.  This being said, I have given myself an assignment for the remainder of my Mallorcan holiday: Learn how to descend.

My holiday-assignment was an easy one to settle upon given that I am riding my bicycling in an incredibly mountainous place, doing so with an excellent teacher, and am really sick of getting dropped (on the downhills).

The adventure to Sa Calobra made me realize, once again, that I have a huge deficiency; descending.  Cornering, comfort at speed, the over-use of brakes, a bad over-steering habit, poor line judgment and continually blaming my poor descending performance on having a compact crank (an excuse I can not and will not use EVER again).

The only way to practice descending is to descend and over the past two days, I have done just that.  I have ridden up a lot of hills and then, with much concentration, taken switch-back after switch-back, corner after corner, with ever-growing confidence.

Because it is late, I spent almost 6 hours in the saddle today and I am already a day behind on my blogging; I am going to post photos from Days 5 and 6 here.

Days 5: Formentor and Riding Solo




Day 6: To the hills, for more practice (and cafe con leche, of course)


  

"Is it Worth It?" - Mallorca Day 4

Don at the top of Sa Calobra

Sitting at the top of Sa Calobra drinking coffee, before I had descended and climbed back up, before I had experienced this epic of a hill, a British guy walked over and asked, “Is it worth it?”.  

Don looked at him with a bit of a befuddled expression.  “Worth it? This is the best climb in the world.”

The best climb in the world.  I have to agree.

I will be the first to admit my naiveté when it comes to epic routes and world class climbs, but I am confidant Sa Calobra stacks up there among the best.

One minute I’m sitting at an orange juice stand enjoying café con leche, the next minute I’m plunging toward the sea.  Switch back after switch back, granite boulders surrounding me in three directions, the impossible color of the ocean stretched out in front.  Roads like this don’t exist in many places, certainly not in any of the places I have ever been.  The surreal quickly became reality when I reached the bottom, took some photos and geared up for the climb back to the top.  9 kilometers of 5-11% grade, smooth pavement, very little traffic; I wanted to ride it in under 40 minutes.  I reach the top in 38, a good almost-40 minute effort.  Then the ride continued. 

Which gets me to thinking…. The ride continued until we reached our next destination; a small little café serving Coca-cola, coffee, and sandwiches.   There are cafes everywhere; on the top of mountains, at the summit of a climb, along quiet back streets, in town squares.  These cafes may be catering to tourists, but locals frequent them as well.  They don’t charge inflated prices, they don’t sell cheesy souvenir snow globes, and they don’t bring you the check until you ask.  Complete with a full menu, a cigarette machine and a fully stock bar, cafes are different here.  You can sit outside for half an hour or 3 hours, you don’t order a double decaf, non-fat, extra caramel, vanilla latte.  You order an espresso or an americano or a café con leche.  Sandwiches are simple (not to mention delicious); made of crusty bread, olive oil, cheese and tomato – and we are talking good bread, great cheese and excellent olive oil.  Oh, and a side of olives – green and brown olives; the really good ones that still possess their pits. 

The culture is different in Mallorca.  I am not sure if it a Spanish thing or a Mallorcain, but either way, I love it.  A steep staircase made of unstable rock in a national park doesn’t require a liability waver.  There aren’t many guardrails to keep a cyclist or a motor vehiclist from simply rolling over the side of a very steep cliff.  There is a sense of personal responsibility and respect that is empowering and freeing.  The people of Mallorca are patient and good-natured.  The sheep and goats can cross the road at their own free will (if you hit one its your own darn fault) and the ability of most drivers to navigate around cyclists on incredibly skinny roads in continually amazing. 

It is only day 4 and I am already blown away by this place.

Some more photos of Sa Calobra, coffee, coca-cola and friends.

And I quote, "This is Sweeter Than Any Powder Day"

Today we went to the mountains, and rode up them.  The most fantastic climb of my young cycling life and Barb says, “And it only gets better”. 

The flat farmland turned to stone lined switch-backs and spots of snow. 

Sheep, identified only by the sound of their bells, could be heard as we climbed to the town of Lluc. 

Cobblestone streets of ancient hillside towns offered coffee and olives and a chance to smile and laugh. Chocolate croissants and a stroll along the sea toped off the day.

There is new snow on the mountains at home.  Friends are heading to the hill for an epic powder day.  We would be joining them, but instead we are riding in our bikes on a fairytale island.  When Ben heard the news of the snow back home he said, and I quote, “This is sweeter than any powder day”.  He wanted to make sure the preceding statement included: Chocolate croissants, speaking Mallorcin with the locals, chocolate caliente, indescribable vantages, and screaming two-wheeled descents.

Tomorrow we up the ante.  We head to Sa Carlobra, descent to the sea and climb right back up.  The legendary climb was most quickly completed by Jan Ulrich in 29 minutes (this statistic remains unconfirmed). Don says I should be impressed with 40.  For the first time this trip, I think I will activate the stopwatch.

And some photos:

My bike arrived & I stayed out after curfew- Mallorca Day 2

My bike arrived this morning; in a black suitcase.  The man who delivered it had no idea of its value; a ticket to freedom and discovery.  (Unfortunately, the man delivered only two black suitcases, Ben’s and mine, not three.  Don’s bike was still missing, only to be delivered after dinner.)

After breakfast, the putting together of bikes, the fixing of an exploded housing (which required 3 separate trips to the bike shop), and the dressing for the unpredictable Mallorcan weather; Barb, Lou, Ben and I stuffed our pockets with dates, apricots and chocolate and rolled out of Pollensa. 

We decided on a flat ride for our first outing, nothing spectacular… or so they said.  As soon as we turned out of the last round-about of town, the landscape and scenery completely changed.  The modern world ceased to exist and we were transported back in time.  Stone fences, fields of sheep (complete with bells), olive trees, iron gates, and pastures of green; brilliant, breathtaking green.  With the highest hills on Mallorca cloaked with snow, the backdrop was fairytale-like.  I was riding my bike in Mallorca - WOW!

We spent the better part of the afternoon taking our time, pedaling from town to town on two-lane roads no wider that the typical American parking space.  We passed more cyclists than cars and the clouds parted often to give us some sun.  Our “destination” for the day was Petra. (The quotes here are to bring attention to the new definition of the word destination: Read The best coffee and fresh squeezed orange juice on the day’s route, thus requiring a stop).

Sitting in a café, we enjoyed coffee and orange juice and baguette sandwiches and frites fried in olive oil.  It was only then that we glanced at our watches. 

At 5:45pm we paid our bill, asked for directions and snapped on our helmets.  We were over 40 kilometers from home.  It gets dark on the island of Mallorca at 7pm. 

And so were put our heads down and rode; along the sea, with the wind carrying the spray and the scent of eucalyptus pushing us forward.  We are arrived at the hotel in the dark, small blinking lights carrying out the job for which they were intended.  

I made Ben pose for a photo in from of the hotel; not because it made for a great photo, but because it was dark and I had such a great time navigating through an unknown place after sunset. 

Today was not a day of epic climbs or huge miles; it was a day of fun and laugher and good friends (Don, we missed you), and of course, staying out after curfew.

And, some photos from the day:

Europe is So Cool; Mallorca Day #1

With a day and a half of traveling under our belts, we made it Spain.  Mallorca to be exact.  A beautiful island in the Mediterranean, heavy with history and culture and cyclists.

Our bikes are somewhere between Madrid and our hotel, bummer....
I am hopeful they will arrive tomorrow so we can join the smiling, happy faces of our fellow bike riders.

Mallorca is a bit sleepy this time of year.  1 out of every 3 store fronts is open for business, the tour buses haven't started running and the streets are relatively quiet as we venture out to explore the small port town of Pallensa; the place we will call home for the next two weeks.  It is fabulous.  Bright sails of Hobies dance across the water, the rugged landscape unfolds in three directions, and the hills, some still blanketed in snow, are calling our names (sort of like The Sound of Music, but with a Spanish lisp).

Ben is working hard to blend into his surroundings and with his handsome good looks and affection for chocolate croissants; is doing a fine job.

Check out a few more photos here:

Echo Red-to-Red

Don told me the Trek EX 9.8 would change my life.  Considering I have fallen in love with mountain bike riding, I have to tell him he was right.

Saturday I joined the herd of folks rolling out through Echo for the second running of the Red-to-Red.  All the Pro, Cat 1 and Singlespeed men and women started together.  Strange feeling to start a race and have no idea who you are racing against.  The Women’s field was swallowed up by the Men’s field.  There could have been 100 women starting that race or just 3.  Turns out there were 16.  I saw only one of them the entire 29-mile race. 

Endless ribbons of single track wound itself up the rolling Eastern Oregon landscape, a couple of steep climbs, a few slat bridges and a load of sunshine.  There was nothing I would have rather been doing on Saturday afternoon.

The race unfolded pretty close to my expectations.  I got passed on the descents and preceded to pass the same guys on the climbs.  My confidence grew stronger as the race progressed and by the end, I felt like I was actually attacking the corners instead of letting them attack me.  I have a lot of technical improvement to do, but the season is young, I have teammates who specialize in Super D and I have a new bike that I absolutely love riding.

When the results were posted, Sunnyside claimed 6 podium spots!  Not a bad way to start off the season.  I placed 1^st in the Cat 1 category, shared the podium with my stellar teammate Julie, and took home a bottle of wine and a sweet medal (which will be swiftly added to my nephew’s growing collection).

 

Now, off to pack and purchase books for my upcoming Spain adventure. 

Did I mention I was going to Spain? 

Did I mention how excited I am?

And So It Begins

Saturday marks the start of my 2010 racing season.  Instead of driving to the valley to race skinny tires on snow-covered asphalt, I am heading east, to the little known town of Echo; Echo Red-to-Red.   

28 miles of single track along the Umatilla River; it’s supposed to be beautiful. 

Hopefully I can remember how to race a mountain bike.  

Or better put; hopefully I can figure out how to race a mountain bike.  

I have never before raced a mountain bike wearing the colors of Sunnyside.  (This should give you an indication of my extensive MTB background.) 

And with the start of racing season comes, you guessed it, RACE REPORTS!  Fun to write, boring to read – but I am committed as ever to attempt to entertain with the ramblings and finer details of my 2010 racing season.

And in other news: I am heading to Spain!

Stay tuned for daily reports and photos from the island of Mallorca.

Although I can’t promise Spanish Boots made of Spain Leather; let me know of any special requests (leave a comment below) and I will do my best to smuggle a few extra kilos of coffee and olive oil into my suitcase.  

Bend Backcountry Alliance Film Festival

The Bend Backcountry Alliance will host the 2nd annual Backcountry Film Festival Friday, March 5th at McMenamins Old St. Francis School.  


Doors open at 7:00 pm.
Show starts at 7:30pm.
Admission is just $5.00 and tickets can be purchased at the door. 
Come early to secure your seats as seating is limited and last year’s festival did sell out. 

The Backcountry Film Festival is organized by our friends at the Winter Wildlands Alliance. This year, festival attendees will vicariously surf the snow with a Japanese calligrapher, test extreme snow conditions in Vermont and ski a brief but majestic winter in Australia.

Once again, there will be a raffle with really fantastic stuff donated by some big brands and local businesses.   


Check them out!
Fleet Feet / Pandora’s Backpack
Nau
Osprey Packs
Off-Piste Magazine
Pine Mountain Sports
Thump Coffee

Hope to see you there. And as always, think snow!