Team Bike-to-Work Day

Today was Bike-to-Work Day in the Bay Area, and with a merry co-conspirator I led a group of co-workers on a 22-mile trek to work. It was a rousing success!

Our little peloton included some first-time bicycle commuters and a few very experienced cyclists, who graciously helped shepherd everyone along. My co-leader outfitted his bike rack with the mobile coffee-and-donuts rig featured in the photo. I tried to capture footage of coffee being dispensed on the go; sadly, my videography skills need work ... next year, a helmet-cam!

Our team swelled to two dozen riders as we meandered along the flattest, most traffic-free route I could concoct. One rider lives along the route; his family cheered our arrival as he rolled down his driveway to join us.

Our group included one woman who was so jazzed from riding with us last year that she has been riding more on her own. Success!

Another rider, reminding me about the pain I inflicted via Mountain Charlie Road last summer, forgave me and was willing to join us this morning. Success!

Along the way, one guy asked "Where does this road go? I grew up in this town, and I have never been here." Success!

Two strong riders on their own route to work made their way past us and gave me props for leading our crew. Success!

One woman told us she hasn't really ridden her bike in 20 years. Her husband made sure she had her cell phone, so he could come to her rescue. Not only did she go the full distance, she kept up a good pace. Success!

People were still smiling when we climbed off our bikes at work, and several exclaimed "I didn't expect this at all, but I feel great—and I thought I would feel pretty bad." Success!

Later, one of our new riders set up a mailing list and invited everyone to join. "Let's do this again, maybe we can ride to work together once a month." Success!

At the end of the day, five people joined me for the ride back home—another record turnout. Success!

Perfect weather, a mellow route, lots of happy camaraderie, turning people on to cycling. Unquestionable, Bike-to-Work Day success!

Room for a View

Having pedaled to the top of the highest peaks in the Bay Area counties of Santa Clara (Mt. Hamilton) and Contra Costa (Mt. Diablo), two remained to be conquered: Mt. Tamalpais (Marin) and Fremont Peak (Monterey).

Our local high points are best explored in the cool-weather seasons (spring or fall), as much of the climbing will be on a roadway that clings to the edge of the mountain, well exposed to the baking sun. Spring means green hillsides and colorful blooms, like the magenta petals of these sweet peas.

From John Summerson's excellent book, The Complete Guide to Climbing (by Bike) in California, I learned that the grade gets steeper over the 10+ mile climb to the top of Fremont Peak, including a mile exceeding 10%. One memorable switchback nearly did me in. Luckily, I took a break before continuing, because the next switchback was only slightly less challenging. When I reached the parking lot at the top, my legs were toast. Evidently the quadricep muscles that were taxed by yesterday's curling session are engaged when cycling uphill.

With a pair of cycling buddies, I covered over 47 miles of unfamiliar terrain in three counties (San Benito, Santa Cruz, Monterey), ascending 3,805 feet along the way. Our excursion started with a couple of miles on the shoulder of Highway 156. This turned out to be a divided 4-lane highway with a posted speed limit of 65 mph. Being passed by semi trucks hauling tandem trailers, just a few feet away, required nerves [or some other body part] of steel. Some drivers courteously slipped into the left lane; some did not.

The rest of the ride was more bucolic, despite a few wrong turns (easily recovered, given that two of us were carrying GPS-enabled smartphones). On Fremont Peak, the summit beckoned, but we elected not to hike the final 300 feet to the top; the view was a bit hazy and one member of our trio was pressed for time. Near the base of the hill, I was momentarily mesmerized by the grasses shimmering in the afternoon breeze. The dry season is rapidly approaching; these slopes will soon turn golden.

Cross-training

Before the obligatory safety warnings (Ice is slippery!), our coach encouraged us to stretch. You will be sore, you will feel it in your quads. Uh oh. I have a challenging bike ride tomorrow.

During my not-so-annual physical this week, my doctor reminded me that cross-training is a Good Idea. I know that, and he knows that I know that, but do I put that into practice?

Today I was treated to a play date with some co-workers at an ice rink, doing something I never imagined I would try: curling. Maybe you watched some curling a few months ago, when it was featured at the Olympics in Vancouver. Did you think: How hard can that be, sliding a chunk of granite across the ice? You want to call this cross-training?

After some basic instruction and practice, we played three ends. A tie score seemed certain: 0-0. When you release the stone, it needs to travel a long way. It needs to stay in bounds. It needs to stop inside a circular target. The odds seemed slim indeed that any of us would accomplish this.

Ha! Not only did our team win (5-0), I managed to score a point: the greenish yellow stone on the left in the photo was my stone, which not only stayed in bounds and stopped inside the circle — it knocked a competing blue one farther out! Never mind that my stone was supposed to stop short of the circle, to serve as a "guard" stone ...

Quadriceps? Sore, in a special new way. Groin muscles? Sore, as promised. Repeatedly sliding down the ice, knees bent, furiously brushing the ice ahead of a sliding chunk of granite with a broom? Cross-training, beyond any doubt.

Off to the Races

My heart rate was elevated, my quads were burning, and I was only halfway up the infamous Cat's Hill ... on foot. I found a gap in the spectators and planted myself on the sidewalk. Two women racers walked past, rolling their bikes and commenting:

This is harder than climbing it!

During a break in the action, another woman racer clipped in and rode to the top. A local police officer gave her a surprised look, and she also remarked:

It's easier than walking.

After volunteering at the registration desk for the 37th Annual Cat's Hill Criterium, I was free to watch the final race: the field of Pro/1/2 men. It was easy to recognize these guys as they approached the registration table: musculature straight out of an anatomy textbook and veins that resemble vines snaking up their arms and legs.

Remarkably, the field mostly stays together, though the repeated circuits take their toll. Drop your chain on the hill and your race is over. One guy rolled to the side and abandoned mid-hill in the penultimate lap.

One of these days, maybe I will find out if it truly is easier to ride my bike up Cat's Hill. Or maybe I will just take their word for it.

Taking It Slow

With a view like this, what's not to like about bicycle commuting? You might enjoy it equally well from the comfy seat of your car, you're thinking? Only as a passing glimpse.

With no shortage of excuses, somehow I have managed not to pedal to work even once in the past seven months. It has been cold ... dark ... wet ... windy. Oh, and I have been busy. Shameful. With Bike to Work Day fast approaching, it was time to refresh my commuting skills. I will be helping to lead a group of coworkers that day, some braving their first bicycle trip to the office. That would be the wrong day to discover some unpleasant new wrinkle along the route.

There are memorable moments in every commute, and today was no exception. In a residential neighborhood on the way home, I was stopped at a stop sign with my left arm extended to signal my turn. A young male in a sporty black VW arrived at the opposite stop sign, and I correctly predicted that he would not understand that I had the right-of-way. I chuckled when he interpreted my extended arm not as a left turn signal, but apparently as a gracious gesture that he should go first: as in, "Please, after you." As he turned, he swept out his right arm in return. Or maybe there is a new section in the California Driver Handbook I should study: Right-of-Way at an Intersection: Violating with Courtesy.

Whole Lotta Climbin'

At the beginning of March, my regular ride partner suggested an ambitious ride for late April (today, in fact): Four significant hill climbs over about 50 miles. Seemed like a good idea at the time ...

Within the first 300 yards this morning, my saddle notified me that I have not been spending enough time on the bicycle: I was still sore from last Sunday's ride. Our destination? Lunch, in Half Moon Bay.

After climbing up Kings Mountain Road and descending almost to the coast, we meandered back uphill for some more fun and a fast descent into town. Near the summit of Higgins Purisima Road, we were lucky to cross paths with some locals who pointed out a very active bees' nest at the base of a tree and likely kept us out of harm's way.

Having refueled at the Garden Deli Café, we found some fresh hills to climb on the way back to Tunitas Creek Road. I reflected on my ride partner's suggested translation for Lobitos ("crazy cyclists") as I became acquainted with Lobitos Creek Road. And then, there is Tunitas. In a few weeks we will miss seeing the pros tackle Tunitas Creek Road; the dense redwoods will block transmission of live video during the race. The trees are majestic; the road is unforgiving. After some 36 miles and 3600 feet of climbing, a mere six miles to the final summit. Just six miles ... and 1600 feet of climbing.

With 42 miles and 5,185 feet of climbing in my legs, I assure you that I earned my descent. From the top of Kings Mountain Road to the first stop sign: 9 minutes, 28 seconds. A car averaging 30 mph over the same distance would be about a minute faster; the road is twisty, so that is a tall order for most drivers. Which explains why I tend to catch them.

Pedaling to Panoche

The photo says it all: a curvy road, a downhill worthy of a warning, hillsides shimmering with California poppies. Paradise for cyclists.

After pitching in as a volunteer for our club's annual event yesterday (the Tierra Bella), today it was my turn to enjoy our beautiful land. I was unsure whether I could pull myself together for a ride that started some 60 miles away at 8:30 a.m., but I managed. The early-morning sacrifice was well worth it.

For the Mega-Monster Enduro, I have spent the better part of two days sitting at the western end of Panoche Road. Until today, I had never ventured any farther. No maps or route sheets are needed: keep pedaling until you reach the Panoche Inn, 27.5 miles down the road. Eat lunch, turn around, and keep pedaling until you find the car you left 27.5 miles away in Paicines. Elevation gain for the day: 2,775 feet.

Some think an out-and-back route is boring, but I relished the chance to take in this scenery a second time. As I remarked to one of my ride companions, I don't have the urge to travel afar for a bike tour when this is virtually in my backyard.