December 31, 2020

2020 Retrospective

Herewith, some signs of the times.

I got my happy smile from a neighbor's weekly update during late summer:

I'm still working from home (week 43), and there is a cadence to my productivity level. I've learned, when it dips, to take some time off. When my colleagues ask what my plans are, I doubt they're surprised to hear: “To be not in front of a computer screen for 8-9 hours per day.” It's that simple.

Of course, I have ridden my bike: something more than 1,376 miles and 68,200 feet of climbing, my lowest stats since I started keeping records in 2005. A more interesting statistic, I think, is that the miles I drove weren't much more than that.

My last haircut was in February; it hasn't been this long since I was a teenager. There were a few months where I could have gotten it trimmed, but I expected that the salons would be shuttered again (true, that). Once it was long enough to tie back, why would I cut it only to grow it out again? One day, on a whim, I put it up in pigtails—unexpectedly to the delight of my colleagues.

Thanks to a semi-regular exercise routine and healthy meals, I've shed about eight pounds. I sleep better when I get some exercise, even if it's just a walk around town. I've come to prefer the side streets—not only are there fewer people to pass, the neighborhoods are more interesting than the main drag.

Some colleagues have moved out of the area, and I'm sad that our paths will rarely (if ever) cross again. Moving to the Bay Area was the right choice, for me; I don't expect to stray far from this place.

I am comfortable living in a region with more diversity, not less; though I was surprised to learn (from our health department's COVID-19 updates) that the majority demographic in our county is Asian.

May we look back to the challenges of 2020 as a low point in our lives, and look forward to more love, kindness, and healing in the years ahead.

December 27, 2020

One More Ride

Overnight showers left the roads slick on Saturday morning, scuttling our plan to ride. But with an errand to run on Sunday, why not climb on the bike?

And once you climb on the bike, why not go for more of a spin?

On my way to Almaden Lake Park, I found myself overtaking an older fellow pedaling a bike with proper fenders—even though I was cruising on the heavy steel bike I normally reserve for commuting. (Running an errand is a commute, of a sort.)

Well.

Older fellows still have egos. Perhaps even more so, when they're on ebikes.

Getting chicked hurts, so he just had to pass me. Without spinning the pedals. (Whatever, dude.)

I scoped out an empty bench at the near end of the lake, and regretted not bringing a book to read. That would have been a nice spot to loiter for an hour or two.

But alas, 'twas not to be. With a family stalled at the nearest entrance to the path, by the time I circled my way to the bench it had been claimed. Along with the next nearest bench. Like all the other paths in the South Bay, this one was busy. Thinking I would just head back, I kept going and planned to exit.

But, hmm ... where does that leg of the trail lead? Away from the park, it was empty (and not very scenic, dominated by the span of Highway 85 above).

I followed it to the end, choosing to take the road back. Although it ran alongside the Guadalupe River, it did not connect to the principal section of that trail; instead, there was signage leading to the Highway 87 Bikeway. Ah yes, I have been that way before, and ... will not venture there again.

With rain in the forecast for New Year's Eve, these 24 miles and 540 feet of climbing would like constitute my last outing for the year.

December 19, 2020

Going the Distance

To ride, or not to ride? That was our dilemma.

The county does not want households mixing, even outdoors. Given that my chief ride buddy and I have continued to be abundantly cautious, our decision was: Ride!

We stay more than six feet apart when we're not moving, and we're naturally farther apart when we roll. Riding solo is riskier (in other ways). As a pair, we keep each other in sight.

At the same time, this is not the moment to have an incident on some remote backroad. Without the inspiration of our club's group rides, our outings have tended to be shorter. We were both feeling the need to stretch our legs on a longer ride.

With the chill in the air, I suggested a flat, familiar route to Mountain View. This was the sort of day for an exposed (sunny) route. I expected the trails to be deserted ... and, I was wrong about that. Even at the marshy end of the Stevens Creek Trail, we turned tail when a small family congregated nearby. Too. Many. People.

I'd underestimated the distance and opted for a more direct return at the end. We managed to drag ourselves over 45 miles with 1,020 feet of climbing, and we were both feeling it by the end.

December 5, 2020

How Brown Was My Valley

One of the reasons to join a club is to learn the tried-and-true local bike routes. I sorted through my archives to find the route we'd follow today. It brought back memories of the couple who'd introduced me to this route. They've since relocated out of the area, and I do miss riding with them.

The air quality was poor today, but we would be skirting the outer edge of the smog.

It's been over two years since I rode up Clayton; I was not having a good day. Had the road been repaired, back then? I'm stuck remembering the damaged stretch that kept through traffic diverted. The number of passing vehicles today was a hint that the road had indeed been repaired.

A sad and broken Aermotor towered in a field; the ridge of the Santa Cruz Mountains was just barely visible in the distance, above the valley haze.

After climbing 2,180 feet over 23 miles, our legs were feeling it. Our timing had been perfect; the approaching storm front rapidly drew a blanket of gray over our heads as we lingered in the parking lot at the end. Safely distant, my ride buddy and I considred our options for future outings as our county's next (and second) lockdown looms.

To ride, or not to ride? [Stay tuned.]

December 2, 2020

Holiday Fun

As luck would have it, my ride buddy and I had aligned on a day off. We were ready for some holiday cheer.

We toured the local holiday displays as we meandered through suburban neighborhoods. There were inflatable snowmen and sparkling reindeer galore, but I bet that few of us have seen Santa atop an elephant (before now).

There was a smug Grinch peeling a string of lights from a house, and an Abominable Snowman on a mountain bike.

Missing the motivation that draws us to more challenging club rides, we agreed that we should tackle the hilly edition of the route I'd proposed. And so we finished with 35 miles and 1,580 feet of climbing. Not all that hilly, really.

November 29, 2020

For the Schwag

Without a real Bike To Work Day this year, the local organizers had a surplus of goodies to disburse. A month or two ago, they advertised a pop-up location for some giveaways, but my bike route for that day went elsewhere. The light bulb went off when a delighted fellow cyclist later exclaimed “We got socks, from Google!”

What's a company gonna do with all those 2020 Bike To Work Day socks (and neck gaiters) for employees who would not be biking to work on that special day? (Evidently, donate them to the local bicycle coalition.)

When another opportunity presented itself—this time, an incentive for members of the coalition—I renewed my lapsed membership. I had been planning to do that by the end of the year, anyway.

On my way to the socially-distant (masked and outdoor) pick-up site, I found myself on the same route as (you guessed it) some folks I know from our bike club.

We all prepped for the pickup by bringing a slip of paper listing which goodies we wanted, thus reducing waste. Messenger bag? Yes! Yet another canvas musette bag? No thanks.

Another reason to ride—much of it on the same route I would have commuted to (and from) work: 28 miles and 860 feet of climbing.

November 28, 2020

A Reason to Ride

After yesterday's outing, my chief ride buddy needed a break. But, it was such a nice day ...

With a snack in my pocket and no definite plan (other than a trip to the post office), I set out on my bike.

When a passer-by took notice of the little sign affixed to my bike (“This vehicle is smog free”) I braced for a negative reaction. [Such is life in our modern age.] Other than reading it aloud, though, he offered no comment. [Whew.] I've had that placard since ... I was was teenager. [Translation: A long time ago.] Remembering it, and being somewhat of a packrat, I had dug it out a few years ago and mounted it on my commute bike.

I opted for a loop, rather than retracing my path, and considered going out of my way to extend the ride.

But it was such a nice day ... I kept pedaling. To Almaden Lake Park, where I claimed a bench and enjoyed my snack and people-watching (equally).

Biking 20 miles, and climbing 460 feet along the way, was a splendid way to spend a sunny November afternoon.

November 27, 2020

Seasons Change

'Twas the day after Thanksgiving, and all through the house ... [Oops, different holiday.]

Now that there's a chill in the air, an exposed (sunny) route is the ticket to happiness. To Metcalf, or not to Metcalf, that was the question.

My ride buddy's answer? Metcalf!

Given the date (“Black Friday”) and the need for advance reservations to use the dirt bike park, I anticipated few vehicles on the road. [Correct!] At the summit, we had a clear view of Mount Hamilton (and Lick Observatory) in the distance.

Temperature regulation is tricky this time of year. The light jacket over my wool jersey was not quite enough once we started cruising, and way too much halfway up the hill. Just keep turning the pedals, round and round ... Given the pause for my wardrobe adjustment, this would not be my best time up the hill (and, a minute slower than my last trip).

Continuing our route after coming down the backside, I spotted a fellow club member heading in the opposite direction and waved. [Birds of a feather, we are.] I'd mapped out a loop that would take us along part of the ambitious climb-a-thon I'd once led. No need to go overboard, today. We paused to admire some unfamiliar trees with brilliant foliage along the residential streets.

Having climbed 2,200 feet over 20 miles, I set off on a local quest after returning home. November's workplace challenge (to encourage us to get outside and get moving) is to snap five photos featuring places serving different cuisines. That being hardly a challenge in the Bay Area, I decided to up my game by seeking out one-of-a-kind businesses, ranging from a tiny Jamaican spot to a noted farm-to-table restaurant with three Michelin stars. It was a lovely afternoon, growing ever chillier by the time I finished my little 9 mile loop (with merely 260 additional feet of climbing).

Leftover turkey, for my dinner.

November 24, 2020

A Spot of Tea

It was a lovely day (and, a day off work). A day to indulge in a simple pleasure: riding my bike to a friend's house.

Sheltering at home, with his dad on an extended escape from a state suffering a surge in COVID-19 cases, my friend was hoping I would join them for Thanksgiving. Tempting, but ... indoors? No. [They understood.]

A shorter visit, outdoors? Sure! I brought cookies, they brewed the tea, and we shared the afternoon sunshine in the backyard, safely apart.

Much to the amazement of my friend's dad, I'd biked a little over 8 miles to get there—and by the time I got home, a total of 18 miles and 400 feet of climbing. [No big deal.] More importantly, I raised their spirits (and, mine).

Will do again.

November 21, 2020

A Touch of Color

A bright spot in the landscape. Even in the Bay Area, some trees do grace us with traditional fall colors.

We were delighted to cross paths with a couple of club members, singletons out for their rides. My chief ride buddy and I form a socially-distant pair, keeping each other in sight and otherwise pausing before making a turn.

Truth be told, capturing a photo of the broad-leafed maple's brilliant yellow leaves was only one factor in my decision to stop. The larger factor was my weakness on the steep grade (heart rate, 177 bpm). If I can't manage this side of Hicks, I certainly can't manage the (even steeper) other side.

Heading out on our loop, we passed the usual spin class—now expanded into the shopping center's parking lot. Would it be cheeky of me to wave? I am so tempted.

On our way back, we passed a guy in a hoodie, biking with his helmet (unbuckled, of course) perched on top. He was wearing a face mask, so ... there's that. Likelihood of serious head injury if he crashes: High. Likelihood of encountering an infectious dose of a virus somehow wafting in the breeze: Zero, essentially.

The climb did me in: 29 miles, 1,825 feet of ascent. I told myself I'd be glad that I did it, after I was done. [True, that.] And I suppose I should keep trying. [I suppose.]

November 14, 2020

Partly Cloudy

We found the cloudy part. And the damp chilly part.
We skipped a club ride scheduled for 9 a.m. Let's start riding at 10 ... scratch that, 10:30. The sky seemed to be growing lighter, but the sun did not begin to break through until we had finished our outing.

At the top of Bernal, our heads turned at the cyclist who blithely rode on through. Perhaps he is authorized to do so. Or perhaps not.

Our heads also turned at a trio of riders on fat-tire electric “bicycles.” Yes, they have two wheels, a chain, and pedals—but I have yet to observe a rider doing anything more than resting his or her feet on them. Perhaps those electrified motorbikes will fall out of fashion, or come to be licensed and regulated. Perhaps their operators will learn that traffic laws apply to them, too.
There was a bit of color to be found in the landscape, and in our cheeks after climbing 1,000 feet over 30 miles. Tomorrow's weather might be better. Or it might not. So, we rode today.

October 10, 2020

The Aftermath

All sensors green, the air throughout the Bay Area was clean! A day, finally, for the ride I'd hoped would be the finale of my Best Buddies 2020 Challenge: Mt. Hamilton. The ride I'd planned before the Fires.

I was anxious to survey the post-fire landscape. Lick Observatory, I knew, had been successfully defended.

The first sighting of scorched terrain was at the edge of the foothills, approaching Grant Ranch Park. The demarcation line was clear: the pinkish stain left by the fire retardant separated the blackened earth from the golden grasses.

At the Twin Gates trailhead, the hillside had burned right down to the parking lot. The next stark containment line emerged at Smith Creek, past the CalFire station. To the right, uphill: burned. To the left, a field: spared. A few wild turkeys poked around in the brush.

Where they had not been totally incinerated, charred stubs of wooden fence posts hung suspended in the barbed wire. There were wide-open vistas that I don't recall.

The heat had been enough to melt at least one metal marker.

I was mystified by the occasional tangle of white material that looked almost like the hide of some unfortunate animal. That made no sense, fur would have burned . . . Then it came to me: Fiberglass. The flat, plastic reflector posts that line the edge of the road are made (in part) of fiberglass. When the rest was vaporized, the fiberglass was left behind.

Nearly all the pines that once dropped their enormous cones onto the roadway were gone. The cleanup has been underway for some time. Many of the dead trees have been removed, the sides of the road now dotted with their stumps.

The fire had burned the top of the mountain, encircling the observatory. Exposed animal trails criss-cross the slopes. 

I'd heard that one (unused) building had been lost, but didn't expect to see it. 

On my last visit, I had (uncharacteristically) continued a short distance on San Antonio Road to admire the vista. What a lucky choice that was, to have taken it in just a couple of months before the backcountry burned right up to the summit.

That was then.

This is now.

Then . . .

. . . now.

Despite all my lollygagging, I covered the 39 miles and climbed 4,890 feet at a faster pace (8.7 mph) than in June (7.9 mph).

Winter rains will bring mudslides and green grasses. But it will take decades, for the trees.

October 4, 2020

Best Buddies 2020 Challenge: Stage 15

There are many advantages to riding in an organized event: rest stops with food, water, and portable toilets, and SAG (support-and-gear) vehicles that can save your day. As I thought about designing a suitable ride of my own for this year's Best Buddies Hearst Castle Challenge, I regrettably decided against attemping a 100-mile ride. Restrooms, food, and water are not reliably available; facilities in public parks, for example, are often shuttered. The possibility of being stranded far from home was intimidating in this era of social distancing.

I considered four 25-mile loops; my home would, of course, be a fine rest stop. But that wasn't very exciting. A friend thought I might Everest and offered to support me. That was flattering, but . . . no.  And so I hatched this idea to bike on 15 consecutive days, which would beat my previous personal best (9 days).

Hazardous air quality interrupted my ride series; I managed three stretches of consecutive days: 5-4-5. I had reached out to former teammates to join me for some rides, but unpredictable conditions made planning infeasible. I wanted the final stage to be significant, but not wanting to delay it indefinitely I settled for a modest route through a part of the Bay Area blessed today with a temporary respite from wildfire smoke.

On a Sunday morning, this route was particularly traffic-free. The cycling infrastructure has been improved, including a lovely bit of green bike lane at an intersection I generally avoided after being bumped by an inattentive driver. Good to know, but it will be quite some time before I might bike to the office again.

 

I'd brought some snacks to refuel, but as I puttered along I had a better idea. Sugar. Butter. Flour. Might that bakery be open? [Yes!] After all, completing my Challenge called for some celebration. A too-rich, decadent chocolate truffle cake was my lunch.

By adding a few hills, I climbed 1,225 feet over 42 miles. On my road bike, there was no excuse not to tackle the climb to the water treatment plant. I felt strong heading up the hill, why did I think this would be so hard? Then the final punishing stretch came into view. Photos never quite convey steepness, but in this view from the top notice how the road seems to disappear.

I had saved one more special treat for this day: my last Mango Tango.

And thus concludes my Best Buddies 2020 Challenge: 15 stages, 370 miles, and 13,272 feet of climbing.

September 26, 2020

Best Buddies 2020 Challenge: Stage 14

This is the view I was aiming for last night: Stevens Creek Reservoir. But it was not my first choice for today's destination.

I very much wanted to bike up Mt. Hamilton. Blue skies to the west and smoky skies to the east meant a change in direction was advised.

It looks like my hair was slicked back in 2019, but that was the work of the wind. The views last year were spectacular; will we have a chance to ride down the coast together, again? I do hope so.

I wanted to push myself, today. My chief ride buddy was game for some climbing, after enjoying the cool shade of Stevens Canyon. We chatted with a friendly solo cyclist, who decided to tackle the additional climbing we planned. Riding alongside me, I was momentarily puzzled when he asked if I liked Keith Haring. Ah, I explained, he designed the Best Buddies logo (featured on the back of my jersey).

Waiting for my bike buddy before making a turn, a Tesla blinked its headlights at me, a signal (I'm guessing) that I was standing too close. [Whatever.] A passing car was driving sooooo slowly that I turned to look at the driver, wondering if he was unsure whether I might move into his lane. [Ha. No.] He wasn't looking at me. Nor was he looking at the road. His head was tilted down, his attention focused entirely on his cellphone with the backs of both hands resting on the center of the steering wheel. He was texting. At least five cars were stacked up behind him, and no one honked.

Behold, sadly, my last Strawberry C Monster. [Odwalla is no more, at the whim of its corporate overlords.] After refueling, I set out again. I had a pair of climbs in mind, but ... on a full stomach? [Not usually a good idea.] The day was heating up; if I started out flat, I would bake in the sun on a long flat finish during the hottest part of the day. I decided to climb slowly, and that turned out just fine.

My most ambitious stage of this Challenge: 52 miles, 3,280 feet of climbing. Just one more stage to wrap up this series: Stage 15, for 2020.

September 25, 2020

Best Buddies 2020 Challenge: Stage 13

The Best Buddies Hearst Castle Challenge celebrated its 15th year in 2018, and it was the only year I opted for the 60-mile route instead of 100. It was another year for the alternate route, as Highway 1 remained closed throughout the planning process. It was just too hot that day for me to complete a century on that route (at my pathetic pace), but I enjoyed the chance to explore some different roads anyway.

I had a destination in mind for tonight's stage, but had I done the math I would have realized there wouldn't be enough daylight. When I turned back, I decided to follow a different route—no overlap with my outbound route.

The local sensors were reporting clean air, but the hills were hazy and I started out coughing. I could see smoke beginning to filter in; I opted to keep the ride flat to minimize exertion (despite averaging 12.8 mph—road bike vs. commute bike).

Somehow, I managed the same elevation gain as last night: 460 feet, over 20 miles. I couldn't have pulled that off if I'd tried to plan it!

September 24, 2020

Best Buddies 2020 Challenge: Stage 12

Late afternoon meetings meant a late start for tonight's stage. I also came up short on ideas for where I might ride. I decided to head toward a park I'd never visited, in a neighborhood where I could meander randomly through the streets. Most of which, as it turned out, had names starting with “Bel.” The park was more suited to hiking than biking, so I found myself racing the sunset to a suitable scenic location for my Stage 12 photo.

At bicycle speed, you notice things. Neighborhoods where the theme is women's names, or poets, or colleges. Sometimes they progress, helpfully, in alphabetical order. When a subdivision is laid out, who gets to name the streets? It can be pretty informal, as it turns out. My mom worked for a civil engineering firm for many years; one day the boss asked “What is your granddaughter's name?” And thus a new street found its name.

Road damage from winter's heavy rains had closed Highway 1 when I earned this jersey in 2017. I missed riding south along the coast, but the alternate route gave us the opportunity to explore unfamiliar territory (and, a very steep climb).

Tonight I climbed rather higher than I'd expected and was surprised to pop out partway up a hill that I know is quite steep. I was briefly tempted to turn onto the upper climb—the next block or so would have been doable (on my heavy commute bike). [But, I didn't.]

Whatever the distance, whatever the elevation gain, my evening rides seem to be consistently hovering around 90 minutes. Tonight, I climbed 460 feet over 15 miles, at a respectable 11 mph.

September 23, 2020

Best Buddies 2020 Challenge: Stage 11

Wow, look at that view! We can see the hills of the Diablo Range clearly again!

An alternate title for tonight's stage would be “The Hummus Guy.” At the end of last week, I found myself in a serious food funk. After more than six months of my largely repetitive, go-to recipes, I had no idea what to eat. I was tired of it all—even, strawberries. I skipped my visit to the weekly farmers' market.

I got over it. And missed the berries. Then I remembered that my preferred strawberry vendor has a booth at a farmers' market in a nearby town on Wednesday afternoons. Bonus: it's a smaller site, likely to be less crowded; but without a basket on my bike, I couldn't stock up fully. Still, some is better than none.

As I surveyed the rest of the booths, rolling my bike alongside me, the hummus guy called out to me. “Hey, you must eat healthy, you ride your bike!” I smiled, which (of course) he couldn't see behind my bandana-shrouded face. A few minutes later, as I was eyeing some peaches (surely I could fit a bit more in my bike bag, it expands), the hummus guy appeared—holding out a container. “Here,” he insisted. “You probably eat hummus, right?” Well, yes ... “You like red peppers?” Well, yes ... “Enjoy!” [And I did, it was yummy on the sourdough I had with my latest batch of lentil soup tonight.]

A few pounds of produce didn't really slow me down, either. [Tomatoes, strawberries, peaches, hummus.] Given that I've shed a few pounds over the past few months, I supposed it evened out.

2016 was the tenth year I biked 100 miles down the coast in the Best Buddies Hearst Castle Challenge, and my all-time favorite bike kit design. I've had random cyclists admire this kit, on the road. [It's the carbon-fiber pattern, no doubt.]

Today's route was challenging in a different way, though it was a measly 16 miles and 320 feet of climbing. It reminded me of the first trail ride I did, on a stubborn horse that just wanted to go back to the paddock; he only cooperated when we reached the half-way point—he knew the shortest way home, then, was to go forward. And so it was with this old gray mare, tonight—commuting away from home, in the evening, was a struggle.

September 22, 2020

Best Buddies 2020 Challenge: Stage 10

As you've seen by now, I'm not very creative when it comes to posing for photos. At the Best Buddies finish line in San Simeon in 2015, I had some coaching.

When I mentioned last week that I was limited to after-work rides, I know what you were thinking: Morning rides. [Duh.] Sadly, I am not a Morning Person.

Most [un]fortunately, I woke up at some ridiculous hour today (like, 2:45 a.m.) and was Alert. Awake. Tried all the tricks: relax all muscles, take slow deep breaths. Nada. I pretended I was asleep until a more hospitable hour (like, 5:00 a.m.). Plenty of time for a morning ride, once we had some daylight. My first meeting wasn't till 9:30 a.m. And the air was . . . clean?!

It's Bike to Work Week in the Bay Area (re-scheduled from its traditional May date). So I decided to bike to work. But wait, you're thinking: You're still working from home. [Right you are!] I set off on my normal commute route, at the normal time. I pictured where I would make the turn to finish the trip at my current workplace. [Aka, home.]

But then I thought, why not go a bit farther? Make the turn at the 45-minute mark, have enough time for a suitable photo, and still get home in time to get cleaned up before my meeting.

Ah, but wouldn't it be fitting to bike even farther, technically into the town where my lonely desk sits in a deserted office building. After all, I could attend the meeting in my sweaty bike kit; that would make no difference to my remote colleagues. [And, truth be told, in days gone by I have attended a meeting at the office in my cycling attire. At least once.]

Ride highlight #1: A red-shouldered hawk at eye level, perched on a fence! Ride highlight #2: Posing with a cyclist on a penny farthing. [They're already setting up the holiday lights in the local park.] Lowlight: Testing my panic-stop skills when an utterly clueless cyclist cut me off.

At a brisk (for me) pace of 12.9 mph, I covered 25 miles with 680 feet of climbing (rather more than the regular tally for my morning commute). And I had just enough time to enjoy a second cup of tea and a scone before connecting with my colleagues.