15 December 2008
Leave us, please!!
After writing all that about the leaves, I remembered that shortly after Halloween I'd taken a couple of pictures of the leaves on our deck and in the back yard.
14 December 2008
Fourteen December, Oh, Wait
I started to reply to an email from my friend Dave back in Wichita, and then thought that maybe it would make more sense just to put my text here, with some elaboration.
Sometimes I think the weather - or storms and fronts - pass over Wichita a day or two before arriving here. Other times it seems like we get something entirely different. I suppose this is no surprise to anyone who likes to watch National Weather Service radar and satellite images.
Two weeks ago, on 29 and 30 Nov, we finally finished raking the front and back yards. Cindy had done a little (OK, she says it was more than "a little") raking through the earlier weeks of fall, and she'd already sent about 15 lawn bags - that's about 500 gallons - of oaks leaves to our municipal composting facility. Saturday the 29th was a beautiful sunny day with a comfortable temperature. As is usual for Saturdays, Cindy was working all day. With kids occasionally helping, sort-of, it took me about five hours of raking to drag the rest of the snow-covered leaves, another 500 gallons of them, into a giant pile in the driveway. At this point, I wish I could insert pictures of the kids buried in a Subaru-sized pile of dripping-wet leaves, but I didn't stop raking long enough to get the camera. Their new coats were quite a mess.
By the morning of Sunday the 30th, the temperature had plunged, and big snow was in the forecast. I looked out the window hoping that a big wind, or big truck, or a big something, might have made that big leaf pile disappear. No luck. Since Cindy had spent the day inside at work on Saturday, I thought she'd like to get up early and start stuffing the leaves into those big brown paper bags. Besides, I had some big boards to cut and sand in the basement where it was warm. Cindy got about half the big pile bagged by the time I got out to help her, and by 10 a.m. we'd filled 15 bags and stuffed the remainder of leaves into the big garden in the front. Those 15 bags sat fermenting in the garage for about 8 days, because after the first of December, the trash service doesn't pick up compostables any more. So we had to stuff all 15 bags, dripping with brown slop, into the van so Cindy could haul them off to the colossal compost mound in North Lansing. Then it was off to the big back yard.
The back yard hadn't received any raking all, so the leaves were about 6" deep throughout the entire yard. Not a blade of grass was showing. We'd have enough of bagging, and were out of bags, so we simply moved all the leaves from the grass into the gardens. Well, maybe they aren't really gardens. What would you call them? Our back yard has these big areas of shrubs and bushes and trees, under which there is a floor of old mulch and crumbled oak leaves. So that's where we put this year's leaves.
When we started raking in back, it was cold, but the snow hadn't arrived. After about an hour small flakes began to fall, and by the time we were done, large heavy flakes were falling fast. Our neighborhood is fairly quiet, and the sound of the flakes was wonderful and sort of magical. It was very fun - all four of us were raking as fast as we could (the kids actually helped this time) with snow falling all around and sticking in the newly uncovered grass. A few hours later, we were shoveling the driveway. We shoveled twice that day. Since then, we've had two weeks of snow and temperatures below freezing and had not seen the grass until today.
Oh yes, then, back to Fourteen December. Today our thermometer finally rose above the freezing mark, and even reached into the 40s. F. Don't forget the units, science guy. Patches of green grass have emerged in our crusty white yard. The icy glaze that was nearly preventing our van from ascending the driveway, forcing us to get a running start, has melted. I had hoped we might find time to get out and enjoy the warm weather, but only Quinn managed to spend a significant amount of time outside. There was baking to be done, and a bit of shopping. Abbey and I played some basketball in the basement.
So what was the point of this blogging exercise? Just a short essay about life in late fall in Michigan? Perhaps. Oh, wait, now I remember. Dave had written a little description of something he witnessed Saturday in Wichita when the wind was blowing at 40 miles per hour (for you metric thinkers, that's approaching 1.8 meters per second). He and his dad saw a small plane overhead flying towards its airstrip, into the wind, engine racing, with a ground speed that appeared to have been, well, not much above zero (no units necessary). So borrowing from and elaborating a bit on Dave's thinking, my question is, with a really strong headwind, would it be possible for a pilot to land a plane with a negative ground speed? It would be quite a trick. Along the sides of our driveway, we have little orange and reflective sticks to help us stay on track and out of the ditch when be back the van down in the snow and in the dark. I wonder if they have rear-view mirrors in those little airplanes for backwards landings.
Off to bed, then, and expecting a big wind in the morning. Hoping the coming week is a good one with lots of good news.
Sometimes I think the weather - or storms and fronts - pass over Wichita a day or two before arriving here. Other times it seems like we get something entirely different. I suppose this is no surprise to anyone who likes to watch National Weather Service radar and satellite images.
Two weeks ago, on 29 and 30 Nov, we finally finished raking the front and back yards. Cindy had done a little (OK, she says it was more than "a little") raking through the earlier weeks of fall, and she'd already sent about 15 lawn bags - that's about 500 gallons - of oaks leaves to our municipal composting facility. Saturday the 29th was a beautiful sunny day with a comfortable temperature. As is usual for Saturdays, Cindy was working all day. With kids occasionally helping, sort-of, it took me about five hours of raking to drag the rest of the snow-covered leaves, another 500 gallons of them, into a giant pile in the driveway. At this point, I wish I could insert pictures of the kids buried in a Subaru-sized pile of dripping-wet leaves, but I didn't stop raking long enough to get the camera. Their new coats were quite a mess.
By the morning of Sunday the 30th, the temperature had plunged, and big snow was in the forecast. I looked out the window hoping that a big wind, or big truck, or a big something, might have made that big leaf pile disappear. No luck. Since Cindy had spent the day inside at work on Saturday, I thought she'd like to get up early and start stuffing the leaves into those big brown paper bags. Besides, I had some big boards to cut and sand in the basement where it was warm. Cindy got about half the big pile bagged by the time I got out to help her, and by 10 a.m. we'd filled 15 bags and stuffed the remainder of leaves into the big garden in the front. Those 15 bags sat fermenting in the garage for about 8 days, because after the first of December, the trash service doesn't pick up compostables any more. So we had to stuff all 15 bags, dripping with brown slop, into the van so Cindy could haul them off to the colossal compost mound in North Lansing. Then it was off to the big back yard.
The back yard hadn't received any raking all, so the leaves were about 6" deep throughout the entire yard. Not a blade of grass was showing. We'd have enough of bagging, and were out of bags, so we simply moved all the leaves from the grass into the gardens. Well, maybe they aren't really gardens. What would you call them? Our back yard has these big areas of shrubs and bushes and trees, under which there is a floor of old mulch and crumbled oak leaves. So that's where we put this year's leaves.
When we started raking in back, it was cold, but the snow hadn't arrived. After about an hour small flakes began to fall, and by the time we were done, large heavy flakes were falling fast. Our neighborhood is fairly quiet, and the sound of the flakes was wonderful and sort of magical. It was very fun - all four of us were raking as fast as we could (the kids actually helped this time) with snow falling all around and sticking in the newly uncovered grass. A few hours later, we were shoveling the driveway. We shoveled twice that day. Since then, we've had two weeks of snow and temperatures below freezing and had not seen the grass until today.
Oh yes, then, back to Fourteen December. Today our thermometer finally rose above the freezing mark, and even reached into the 40s. F. Don't forget the units, science guy. Patches of green grass have emerged in our crusty white yard. The icy glaze that was nearly preventing our van from ascending the driveway, forcing us to get a running start, has melted. I had hoped we might find time to get out and enjoy the warm weather, but only Quinn managed to spend a significant amount of time outside. There was baking to be done, and a bit of shopping. Abbey and I played some basketball in the basement.
So what was the point of this blogging exercise? Just a short essay about life in late fall in Michigan? Perhaps. Oh, wait, now I remember. Dave had written a little description of something he witnessed Saturday in Wichita when the wind was blowing at 40 miles per hour (for you metric thinkers, that's approaching 1.8 meters per second). He and his dad saw a small plane overhead flying towards its airstrip, into the wind, engine racing, with a ground speed that appeared to have been, well, not much above zero (no units necessary). So borrowing from and elaborating a bit on Dave's thinking, my question is, with a really strong headwind, would it be possible for a pilot to land a plane with a negative ground speed? It would be quite a trick. Along the sides of our driveway, we have little orange and reflective sticks to help us stay on track and out of the ditch when be back the van down in the snow and in the dark. I wonder if they have rear-view mirrors in those little airplanes for backwards landings.
Off to bed, then, and expecting a big wind in the morning. Hoping the coming week is a good one with lots of good news.
02 December 2008
Bicycle-free sports
I've done my best over the years to keep the kids from being interested in anything except bicycling. Especially team sports. Somehow, I think I've failed. They both seem to like basketball. And Abbey seems to have an interest in running. A little interest. Quinn likes whatever Abbey likes.
Here's a sideways thought (much to Cindy's dismay, since she's ready to go to bed). Abbey is neither right-handed nor left-handed. She eats one way, writes another, and usually lefts right. Or rights left. Abbey knows no left or right. Quinn is reasonably strongly left-handed, although his best frisbee throw is done with his right. How does this relate to playing the piano, you might ask? Or maybe you didn't, but I think it does. When the notes go up, sometimes Abbey's hands go left. How should she know? Why does down go left? What is left, anyway? Quinn seems to have made this connection instantly. We love them both. Leftly.
Back to basketball, which is why you were here, right? OK, well I'm gonna talk about Girls on the Run. I mentioned it in some previous blog, I think, so I'll just give you the short version this time to save on words. Nobody wants to read a bunch of extra words, left? Maybe I should just go back to Alaska and shut up.
Abbey spent the fall training for a 5k after school with a bunch of girls. And then one cold Saturday morning, she ran (mostly) 5 kilometers. We're so very proud of her.
And now there's basketball. Both kids are playing through the Okemos Community Ed program. Abbey's is a little more extensive, with a few weeks of skills training as a group, and then "non-comptetivie" team play starting in January. There's also a competitive league for girls, but we'll consider that next year if Abbey likes what she gets this year. Why not ruin a good thing, right? At least she can dribble and shoot with either hand. Quinn just has one more Saturday and then his is over until next year.
Quinn's class finally played a scrimmage last week. Most of the kids didn't even seem to know the rules. Quinn's buddy, Cole, is an exception. He's the kid firing the bounce pass to Quinn. Cole's parents are both PE teachers in the Okemos school district. Big Spartan fans. Cole watches sports Quinn's never even heard of.
Abbey's participating in Basketball University, which has focused on individual skills as a prelude to team practices in December. Abbey handles the ball pretty well - with either hand.
Here's a sideways thought (much to Cindy's dismay, since she's ready to go to bed). Abbey is neither right-handed nor left-handed. She eats one way, writes another, and usually lefts right. Or rights left. Abbey knows no left or right. Quinn is reasonably strongly left-handed, although his best frisbee throw is done with his right. How does this relate to playing the piano, you might ask? Or maybe you didn't, but I think it does. When the notes go up, sometimes Abbey's hands go left. How should she know? Why does down go left? What is left, anyway? Quinn seems to have made this connection instantly. We love them both. Leftly.
Back to basketball, which is why you were here, right? OK, well I'm gonna talk about Girls on the Run. I mentioned it in some previous blog, I think, so I'll just give you the short version this time to save on words. Nobody wants to read a bunch of extra words, left? Maybe I should just go back to Alaska and shut up.
Abbey spent the fall training for a 5k after school with a bunch of girls. And then one cold Saturday morning, she ran (mostly) 5 kilometers. We're so very proud of her.
And now there's basketball. Both kids are playing through the Okemos Community Ed program. Abbey's is a little more extensive, with a few weeks of skills training as a group, and then "non-comptetivie" team play starting in January. There's also a competitive league for girls, but we'll consider that next year if Abbey likes what she gets this year. Why not ruin a good thing, right? At least she can dribble and shoot with either hand. Quinn just has one more Saturday and then his is over until next year.
Quinn's class finally played a scrimmage last week. Most of the kids didn't even seem to know the rules. Quinn's buddy, Cole, is an exception. He's the kid firing the bounce pass to Quinn. Cole's parents are both PE teachers in the Okemos school district. Big Spartan fans. Cole watches sports Quinn's never even heard of.
Abbey's participating in Basketball University, which has focused on individual skills as a prelude to team practices in December. Abbey handles the ball pretty well - with either hand.
Missed a month
No, Cindy didn't miss a month, I did. On the blog, silly.
I blinked and it was December. I've never even posted anything from Halloween! We've got six inches of snow on the ground now. I'll post some pics of that next summer!
As usual, several pumpkins were harmed - actually killed - in the making of our Halloween celebration. And one was eaten. We love pumpkin pie. There's more than one way to carve a pumpkin, by the way.
Every year at Cornell Elementary, sometime near the end of October, there occurs a big parade. See if you can pick out our kids amongst the riff-raff. Abbey's witch costume came from a catalog. When Abbey was four, Cindy made a pumpkin costume for her. This year, Quinn was trying to select his costume from a long list of super heros, until he saw Abbey's old pumpkin costume in the Halloween box. He never reconsidered. On Halloween, he went trick-or-treating with his buddy, Sam, from kindergarten. Together they were Indiana Jones and his sidekick, the pumpkin. Quinn is very comfortable with himself.
I blinked and it was December. I've never even posted anything from Halloween! We've got six inches of snow on the ground now. I'll post some pics of that next summer!
As usual, several pumpkins were harmed - actually killed - in the making of our Halloween celebration. And one was eaten. We love pumpkin pie. There's more than one way to carve a pumpkin, by the way.
Every year at Cornell Elementary, sometime near the end of October, there occurs a big parade. See if you can pick out our kids amongst the riff-raff. Abbey's witch costume came from a catalog. When Abbey was four, Cindy made a pumpkin costume for her. This year, Quinn was trying to select his costume from a long list of super heros, until he saw Abbey's old pumpkin costume in the Halloween box. He never reconsidered. On Halloween, he went trick-or-treating with his buddy, Sam, from kindergarten. Together they were Indiana Jones and his sidekick, the pumpkin. Quinn is very comfortable with himself.
11 November 2008
Nothing man
Hmmm. All I do anymore is work, work, work. I work at night until I can't stay awake any longer, I fall asleep, I get up and do it again. You'd think with all that work I do I'd be almost done, but every week there's something sort of new that's really just the same thing as the week before with a slightly different twist and new deadline. I must be very inefficient.
Oh, well maybe all this work is making me wealthy? Nope, still struggling to pay the bills and have enough left over to buy food. So what's the point? I don't know. Actually, I think there are a handful of people making a whole lot of money on all the hours I work. Too bad I'm not one of them.
The kids seem to accept our lives as they are. I feel loved and respected. Perhaps more than I deserve. Or maybe not. I try. They're staying on top of their homework, practicing the piano regularly, still making messes all over the house, just as they should. Abbey just ran her 5k for Girls on the Run, and now both kids are playing basketball on Saturday mornings. Abbey reads more books each week than I can count. Quinn does math problems for fun. Neither cleans the bathroom. I just work. And Cindy keeps track of it all and makes sure everyone is where they need to be when they need to be and has finished whatever assignment was supposed to be finished. Who's gonna rake all those freakin' leaves this year? Will they really kill the grass? Who needs grass - just something else to neglect.
Live to work or work to live? How about just work to work and work some more? How about if I ever pay off the debt incurred to get my PhD I'm going to quit my job and find something reasonable to do with my life. Five years. Ten years? What a waste. In five years I'm getting a new bike. A winter bike. Or maybe just a winter coat. It's cold in Michigan this time of year.
Good night.
Oh, well maybe all this work is making me wealthy? Nope, still struggling to pay the bills and have enough left over to buy food. So what's the point? I don't know. Actually, I think there are a handful of people making a whole lot of money on all the hours I work. Too bad I'm not one of them.
The kids seem to accept our lives as they are. I feel loved and respected. Perhaps more than I deserve. Or maybe not. I try. They're staying on top of their homework, practicing the piano regularly, still making messes all over the house, just as they should. Abbey just ran her 5k for Girls on the Run, and now both kids are playing basketball on Saturday mornings. Abbey reads more books each week than I can count. Quinn does math problems for fun. Neither cleans the bathroom. I just work. And Cindy keeps track of it all and makes sure everyone is where they need to be when they need to be and has finished whatever assignment was supposed to be finished. Who's gonna rake all those freakin' leaves this year? Will they really kill the grass? Who needs grass - just something else to neglect.
Live to work or work to live? How about just work to work and work some more? How about if I ever pay off the debt incurred to get my PhD I'm going to quit my job and find something reasonable to do with my life. Five years. Ten years? What a waste. In five years I'm getting a new bike. A winter bike. Or maybe just a winter coat. It's cold in Michigan this time of year.
Good night.
02 November 2008
Cindy's Half in Detroit
Not really, she's wholly in Okemos, but she ran her first half-marathon in Detroit a couple of weeks ago. Yes, I'm a couple weeks behind on my blog updates, but sometimes life gets busy.
The race was on Sunday, but to make it worth the drive, we went for the weekend. I had thought we might spend Saturday afternoon hitting my favorite bike shops in Detroit, but I decided that would just be depressing. So we went to the Detroit Zoo, instead.
We had a great time at the zoo. This zoo is situated on a long, skinny piece of Detroit, so one really good way to see the zoo is to walk it's length and then catch the train back to the entrance.
The butterfly and hummingbird exhibit was wonderful. It was in an old, round, and very tall building with a glass roof. A small path circled through thick vegetation, and butterflies were everywhere, occasionally landing on us. We had to be careful not to let them escape as we entered and exited.
The zoo also had a walk-through kangaroo exhibit that was interesting. As we entered we were cautioned not to get in the way if the kangaroos were trying to cross the foot-path. There was a really cool polar bear exhibit, although unlike the kangaroo and butterfly exhibits, visitors were not allowed to walk through the polar bear's space. We were able, however to walk under it.
The bear was swimming back and forth between one wall of the pool and the top of the underwater tunnel. Each time it would push off from the tunnel with its truly colossal (thanks for the big word, Cailan) feet. Feet that were at least 15 inches across and 20 inches long. Wow. Colossal.
With Halloween approaching, the zoo was decorated with some very creative and sometimes ridiculous squash and gourd sculptures.
This one was really weird.
Once we were finished at the zoo, we headed south toward downtown, where we'd spend the night before the race. Since the Detroit Free Press Marathon is a big event, Cindy signed us up early for a room at the Marathon's host hotel, the Marriott. It was very convenient because we could just get up Sunday morning and walk the few blocks to the start line. We were on the 34th floor, and with the outside wall glass from floor to ceiling, we had a great view out across the Detroit River into Ontario. We could see the Ambassador Bridge that spans the river between the cities of Detroit and Windsor. In the morning, Cindy would be running across that Bridge with about 18,000 other runners.
The race started at 7:15, so we worked backward to figure out when we should get up. Start walking to start line: 6:30. Get coffee and a bagel for breakfast, Starbucks was our only option at the hotel: 6:00: Get the kids up and dressed: 5:30. Get ourselves up and dressed: 5:00. We went to bed pretty early.
The morning went pretty much as planned. The morning was cool, and the sky was still dark. The kids and I wore jackets, hats, and gloves. Cindy wore knicker-length tights and a Smart-wool long-sleeve top under her red Team Playmakers shirt. She wore a jacket for the walk to the start line. The starting area, where all the runners lined up in groups according to their expected pace, was several blocks long and incredibly crowded. Fences insured that only runners would be allowed in. One bonus was that Playmakers had a tent and a special set of port-a-potties for members of Team Playmakers - Cindy was able to avoid a long wait in line for that last bathroom stop. Once we reached the line that only runners were allowed to cross, it was time to say goodbye and hope that we would eventually be able to find each other at the finish. We wished her luck and walked off through the dark streets of downtown Detroit.
Cindy did a great job of sticking with her training schedule, so we weren't the least bit worried about whether she'd be able to run the full 13.1 miles. In training, she'd run no more than 10 miles, but it's pretty common that in training for a half or a full marathon you don't run the full the distance until the day of the event. The question was how quickly she'd finish, and if we'd be able to locate her anywhere along the course.
A few blocks down the road from where we left Cindy, the kids and I found a spot along a fence where we could watch the runners start. It was still dark. We could look up the road and see the line where the runners were waiting to start. A woman came along and gave each one of the kids a cow bell to help wake the city.
After a long wait, the race began. First off the line were a group of about 20 hand-trikes. They must be faster so they go first. Then, apparently, the faster runners in the marathon started. After about a few hundred of those, the half marathon started, with faster runners up front. Except I think there marathon runners in with them. I don't know it was confusing. All we were sure about was that about 18,000 people ran past us, and one of them must have been Cindy. But we never saw her.
We knew it would be at least 2 hours before Cindy would finish. She was hoping to finish in about 2 hours, but when she signed up she estimated 2 1/2, so she started a little further back in the pack than perhaps was best. The runners would follow a route through downtown Detroit, across the mile-long Ambassador Bridge, along the streets of Windsor, then back to Detroit through the mile-long Detroit-Windsor tunnel, which goes under the river.
First the kids and I headed back to the hotel for a little rest, a snack, and a potty break. We tried to see the runners on the bridge out our window once the sun was up, but it was pretty far away. After about an hour we headed down to the tunnel exit to see if we could get a glimpse of Cindy. We waited and waited but we never saw her. There were pace-keepers running with signs to help the runners (and spectators) know about how fast they were running (and it helped us know about where to look in the continuous stream of runners). We didn't see Cindy in the 9- or 10-minute pace groups, but we were afraid we might have missed her. We watched and watched, but we didn't see Cindy. Quinn didn't want to leave until we saw her, but if she was running faster than expected, we might end up missing her at the finish if we stayed too long at the tunnel. It would take us some time to get from here to the finish, and I'd forgotten my map, so we'd have to travel on instinct. Cindy ran 13.1 miles that day, but the kids and I must have walked about 4.
We wove our way around the course to the vicinity of the finish. The course was fenced off, and crowds of people lined the fences, so we had to walk several blocks up from the finish to find a spot to watch for Cindy. If she was going to finish in less that 2 hours, we might have missed her. So we watched and watched. We saw the winner of the marathon come by while we were waiting. He finished 26.2 miles in 2:16:44, less time than Cindy finished her 13.1. And he won $5,000 cash for it, too. Here he is, in red:
Once the 2:10 pace group, and the 2:15 pace group passed, the kids and I started to worry that we might have missed Cindy, and that she might be back in the crowd at the finish looking for us. So for the third time that day we gave up trying to find her on the course and, somewhat disappointed, headed off to see if we could locate her at the finish. A long, long time later, in a huge crowd of people my phone rang. Cindy had borrowed another runners phone and called me to let me know she'd finished. We picked a location to meet, and about 20 minutes later she finally found us.
We never saw Cindy on the course, but one of the Team Playmakers coaches was on the course somewhere along the way and took this photo. She looks pretty happy...
Cindy finished the 13.1-mile half-marathon in 2 hours and 18 minutes. Who's counting seconds at that point? She placed 3806 overall (out of 5991 half-marathon finishers), and was the 1733rd female finisher. She was the 335th finisher of exactly 500 women in the 35 to 39 age class (can you believe she's that old?). OK, so she didn't win - she didn't even finish in the top half of her age group. But the kids and I are so very proud of her! It was her first half-marathon, and she's only been running regularly for the last 6 months. We think she was spectacularly successful!
The race was on Sunday, but to make it worth the drive, we went for the weekend. I had thought we might spend Saturday afternoon hitting my favorite bike shops in Detroit, but I decided that would just be depressing. So we went to the Detroit Zoo, instead.
We had a great time at the zoo. This zoo is situated on a long, skinny piece of Detroit, so one really good way to see the zoo is to walk it's length and then catch the train back to the entrance.
The butterfly and hummingbird exhibit was wonderful. It was in an old, round, and very tall building with a glass roof. A small path circled through thick vegetation, and butterflies were everywhere, occasionally landing on us. We had to be careful not to let them escape as we entered and exited.
The zoo also had a walk-through kangaroo exhibit that was interesting. As we entered we were cautioned not to get in the way if the kangaroos were trying to cross the foot-path. There was a really cool polar bear exhibit, although unlike the kangaroo and butterfly exhibits, visitors were not allowed to walk through the polar bear's space. We were able, however to walk under it.
The bear was swimming back and forth between one wall of the pool and the top of the underwater tunnel. Each time it would push off from the tunnel with its truly colossal (thanks for the big word, Cailan) feet. Feet that were at least 15 inches across and 20 inches long. Wow. Colossal.
With Halloween approaching, the zoo was decorated with some very creative and sometimes ridiculous squash and gourd sculptures.
This one was really weird.
Once we were finished at the zoo, we headed south toward downtown, where we'd spend the night before the race. Since the Detroit Free Press Marathon is a big event, Cindy signed us up early for a room at the Marathon's host hotel, the Marriott. It was very convenient because we could just get up Sunday morning and walk the few blocks to the start line. We were on the 34th floor, and with the outside wall glass from floor to ceiling, we had a great view out across the Detroit River into Ontario. We could see the Ambassador Bridge that spans the river between the cities of Detroit and Windsor. In the morning, Cindy would be running across that Bridge with about 18,000 other runners.
The race started at 7:15, so we worked backward to figure out when we should get up. Start walking to start line: 6:30. Get coffee and a bagel for breakfast, Starbucks was our only option at the hotel: 6:00: Get the kids up and dressed: 5:30. Get ourselves up and dressed: 5:00. We went to bed pretty early.
The morning went pretty much as planned. The morning was cool, and the sky was still dark. The kids and I wore jackets, hats, and gloves. Cindy wore knicker-length tights and a Smart-wool long-sleeve top under her red Team Playmakers shirt. She wore a jacket for the walk to the start line. The starting area, where all the runners lined up in groups according to their expected pace, was several blocks long and incredibly crowded. Fences insured that only runners would be allowed in. One bonus was that Playmakers had a tent and a special set of port-a-potties for members of Team Playmakers - Cindy was able to avoid a long wait in line for that last bathroom stop. Once we reached the line that only runners were allowed to cross, it was time to say goodbye and hope that we would eventually be able to find each other at the finish. We wished her luck and walked off through the dark streets of downtown Detroit.
Cindy did a great job of sticking with her training schedule, so we weren't the least bit worried about whether she'd be able to run the full 13.1 miles. In training, she'd run no more than 10 miles, but it's pretty common that in training for a half or a full marathon you don't run the full the distance until the day of the event. The question was how quickly she'd finish, and if we'd be able to locate her anywhere along the course.
A few blocks down the road from where we left Cindy, the kids and I found a spot along a fence where we could watch the runners start. It was still dark. We could look up the road and see the line where the runners were waiting to start. A woman came along and gave each one of the kids a cow bell to help wake the city.
After a long wait, the race began. First off the line were a group of about 20 hand-trikes. They must be faster so they go first. Then, apparently, the faster runners in the marathon started. After about a few hundred of those, the half marathon started, with faster runners up front. Except I think there marathon runners in with them. I don't know it was confusing. All we were sure about was that about 18,000 people ran past us, and one of them must have been Cindy. But we never saw her.
We knew it would be at least 2 hours before Cindy would finish. She was hoping to finish in about 2 hours, but when she signed up she estimated 2 1/2, so she started a little further back in the pack than perhaps was best. The runners would follow a route through downtown Detroit, across the mile-long Ambassador Bridge, along the streets of Windsor, then back to Detroit through the mile-long Detroit-Windsor tunnel, which goes under the river.
First the kids and I headed back to the hotel for a little rest, a snack, and a potty break. We tried to see the runners on the bridge out our window once the sun was up, but it was pretty far away. After about an hour we headed down to the tunnel exit to see if we could get a glimpse of Cindy. We waited and waited but we never saw her. There were pace-keepers running with signs to help the runners (and spectators) know about how fast they were running (and it helped us know about where to look in the continuous stream of runners). We didn't see Cindy in the 9- or 10-minute pace groups, but we were afraid we might have missed her. We watched and watched, but we didn't see Cindy. Quinn didn't want to leave until we saw her, but if she was running faster than expected, we might end up missing her at the finish if we stayed too long at the tunnel. It would take us some time to get from here to the finish, and I'd forgotten my map, so we'd have to travel on instinct. Cindy ran 13.1 miles that day, but the kids and I must have walked about 4.
We wove our way around the course to the vicinity of the finish. The course was fenced off, and crowds of people lined the fences, so we had to walk several blocks up from the finish to find a spot to watch for Cindy. If she was going to finish in less that 2 hours, we might have missed her. So we watched and watched. We saw the winner of the marathon come by while we were waiting. He finished 26.2 miles in 2:16:44, less time than Cindy finished her 13.1. And he won $5,000 cash for it, too. Here he is, in red:
Once the 2:10 pace group, and the 2:15 pace group passed, the kids and I started to worry that we might have missed Cindy, and that she might be back in the crowd at the finish looking for us. So for the third time that day we gave up trying to find her on the course and, somewhat disappointed, headed off to see if we could locate her at the finish. A long, long time later, in a huge crowd of people my phone rang. Cindy had borrowed another runners phone and called me to let me know she'd finished. We picked a location to meet, and about 20 minutes later she finally found us.
We never saw Cindy on the course, but one of the Team Playmakers coaches was on the course somewhere along the way and took this photo. She looks pretty happy...
Cindy finished the 13.1-mile half-marathon in 2 hours and 18 minutes. Who's counting seconds at that point? She placed 3806 overall (out of 5991 half-marathon finishers), and was the 1733rd female finisher. She was the 335th finisher of exactly 500 women in the 35 to 39 age class (can you believe she's that old?). OK, so she didn't win - she didn't even finish in the top half of her age group. But the kids and I are so very proud of her! It was her first half-marathon, and she's only been running regularly for the last 6 months. We think she was spectacularly successful!
17 October 2008
Goose
Tuesday morning I got an email from Frank. In his usual email shorthand, he wrote something like, "Interested in goose hunting Thursday morning?"
I used to do some hunting, but it's been 11 years, and it was never for geese. Frank's invited me to go along on duck or goose hunts few times in the past, but it's never quite worked out. I've been ice-fishing with him a couple of times since we moved Michigan.
In case you didn't know, Frank is the guy that hired me as I bailed out of my post-doc position back in Washington. We worked together in Seattle until that whole thing sort of fell apart. It's perhaps the strangest coincidence imaginable, but I took my current job with a different company and Frank transferred within without changing companies, and we independently ended up living and working in the same town in Michigan. His office is just down the street from mine.
Frank's an interesting and very likable guy. A hunter and fisherman, a runner and a scientist. He's honest, open, and very pragmatic. He has two teenage boys, and they have huge garden and can lots of veggies every year. I could really see him as a farmer, just as easily as an environmental consultant. He sometimes calls himself a liberal redneck.
Anyway, regarding the hunting trip, at first I was going to say, "No. Too much to do, too little time, don't have the money, not sure I need another hobby, etc.," but instead, in a momentary lapse of reason, I said something like, "Sure. What time are we leaving?"
Getting ready for a hunting trip in two days time with two kids to take care of wasn't easy. I definitely didn't have time, given all the homework I have to do for work, and the kids didn't have time, given all the homework and piano practicing they should have been doing, to spend two evenings tracking down all the licenses and gear I'd need for a goose hunt. Cindy worked Tuesday evening, and had a PTO meeting Wednesday evening, so I dragged those poor kids from one sporting goods store to another.
The answer to "what time are we leaving?" was 3:30 a.m.!! The plan was to drive up to Shiawassee National Wildlife Refuge, arriving before 5:00 a.m., to sign up for a drawing with all the other hunters who wanted to hunt geese in the refuge that morning. Sign-up started at 5:00a.m. and the drawing was at 5:30 a.m.
There was something surreal about being at the USFWS office at 5:00 a.m. with a bunch of hunters to enter a drawing for a goose hunt. The majority were middle-aged men, but some were old and some were young, and there were a few ladies. Almost everyone was wearing well-worn camo coats or coveralls, and big boots. Everyone was very quiet, lots of folks were sipping coffee. Frank asked me if I thought I was the only one in the group with a PhD. I wondered if we were the only ones in the group who had jobs. This is Michigan, after all.
The drawing took place in one half of a big metal barn-like structure with four roll-up garage doors all along one side. The single door open at one end that morning closed with governmental precision at 5:30. Between 5 and 5:30, each person had to show their hunting permits (two state licenses and a federal waterfowl stamp) and identification. Forms were filled and out and numbers assigned to each party, with a maximum of three hunters per party. At 5:30, all the little metal numbers were put into a classic wooden tumbler, the handle was turned and the numbers tumbled in the drum with a rattling sound out of an old western, then one of the officers pulled them out of the hatch one a time and lined them in a trough. I'd expected it to be done on a computer, but this was much better.
Frank's number was the sixth out of the tumbler. There were about 30 numbers hunting spots, or blinds, and being sixth gave us a pretty chance to select one of the more productive spots. The USFWS monitors exactly how many geese have been taken at each spot, and the results are posted, so it's easy to see that some blinds are more productive than others.
As soon as we signed up for our blind, we hopped in the truck and headed for the parking lot in the refuge. It was still dark, and we were in a convoy. Another petro-chemical-intensive human activity. All the hunters parked in one muddy lot and walked perhaps a mile or so to their blind. Many used wagons or carts to haul their decoys and gear. Frank had a whole pile of decoys, but didn't have a cart, so we stuffed them all into a couple of big bags and carried them on our backs. We also carried bags with food, hot coffee, water bottles, shotgun shells, and of course a couple of shotguns. One of the refuge rules was that you could not make even a single return trip to the vehicle. Once you were out, you had to stay out until you were done. Hunters were allowed only 10 shotgun shells in their possession, too, so the amount of shooting was quite limited.
The walk to the blind wasn't much fun. The bag of decoys hung down to my feet, so I had to sort of hold it off to one side. The bag of food and stuff was heavy and didn't carry comfortably, either. The ground was muddy, and my old LL bean boots quickly became 10-pound balls of mud. It was dark and hard to tell the difference between a lump of mud and and hole in the ground. I was hot and sweaty by the time we reached out blind.
The blind was not really a blind at all, but a bench set into the edge of a field of standing corn. We set the decoys up in the adjacent field, which was freshly sprouted winter wheat. Then we sat and got cold. I think the geese were supposed to come over from the Shiawassee River, which was probably only a half-mile to the north, to feed in the corn and wheat. We could hear them over there all morning, but they must not have been in the mood for corn and wheat. We watched a lot geese fly over, way above us, paying no attention to our decoys.
There were a couple of close calls. Once a pair flew low overhead and looked at the spread of decoys. Frank called to them, they called back, even turned around in a couple of circles overhead, possibly considering landing by the decoys, possibly just wondering what those silly men with guns were doing in the corn field. Another single goose came even closer, made a circle over the guys in the blind to our south about 100 yards. It, too, flew away. Everthing we had with us and on us, expecting my brown pants, was corn-stalk camo. I borrowed a coat from Frank, and he made me leave my blue backpack in the truck. I wore Quinn's camo baseball cap. But still the geese didn't land.
We watched some deer feeding on the wheat for a while. We saw lots of ducks fly overhead, and many smaller birds, too. We saw a hawk land in the wheat, capture a small mammal, and fly away with it. But no geese came close enough for a shot. We heard a couple of shots from hunters in other blinds, but just a couple. We don't know if they took any geese. Eventually the sun got high enough overhead that we began to thaw. And eventually even the high-flying geese stopped coming around. By about 10:30, most of the other hunters had headed home. We did, too. We might give it another try later this year.
I used to do some hunting, but it's been 11 years, and it was never for geese. Frank's invited me to go along on duck or goose hunts few times in the past, but it's never quite worked out. I've been ice-fishing with him a couple of times since we moved Michigan.
In case you didn't know, Frank is the guy that hired me as I bailed out of my post-doc position back in Washington. We worked together in Seattle until that whole thing sort of fell apart. It's perhaps the strangest coincidence imaginable, but I took my current job with a different company and Frank transferred within without changing companies, and we independently ended up living and working in the same town in Michigan. His office is just down the street from mine.
Frank's an interesting and very likable guy. A hunter and fisherman, a runner and a scientist. He's honest, open, and very pragmatic. He has two teenage boys, and they have huge garden and can lots of veggies every year. I could really see him as a farmer, just as easily as an environmental consultant. He sometimes calls himself a liberal redneck.
Anyway, regarding the hunting trip, at first I was going to say, "No. Too much to do, too little time, don't have the money, not sure I need another hobby, etc.," but instead, in a momentary lapse of reason, I said something like, "Sure. What time are we leaving?"
Getting ready for a hunting trip in two days time with two kids to take care of wasn't easy. I definitely didn't have time, given all the homework I have to do for work, and the kids didn't have time, given all the homework and piano practicing they should have been doing, to spend two evenings tracking down all the licenses and gear I'd need for a goose hunt. Cindy worked Tuesday evening, and had a PTO meeting Wednesday evening, so I dragged those poor kids from one sporting goods store to another.
The answer to "what time are we leaving?" was 3:30 a.m.!! The plan was to drive up to Shiawassee National Wildlife Refuge, arriving before 5:00 a.m., to sign up for a drawing with all the other hunters who wanted to hunt geese in the refuge that morning. Sign-up started at 5:00a.m. and the drawing was at 5:30 a.m.
There was something surreal about being at the USFWS office at 5:00 a.m. with a bunch of hunters to enter a drawing for a goose hunt. The majority were middle-aged men, but some were old and some were young, and there were a few ladies. Almost everyone was wearing well-worn camo coats or coveralls, and big boots. Everyone was very quiet, lots of folks were sipping coffee. Frank asked me if I thought I was the only one in the group with a PhD. I wondered if we were the only ones in the group who had jobs. This is Michigan, after all.
The drawing took place in one half of a big metal barn-like structure with four roll-up garage doors all along one side. The single door open at one end that morning closed with governmental precision at 5:30. Between 5 and 5:30, each person had to show their hunting permits (two state licenses and a federal waterfowl stamp) and identification. Forms were filled and out and numbers assigned to each party, with a maximum of three hunters per party. At 5:30, all the little metal numbers were put into a classic wooden tumbler, the handle was turned and the numbers tumbled in the drum with a rattling sound out of an old western, then one of the officers pulled them out of the hatch one a time and lined them in a trough. I'd expected it to be done on a computer, but this was much better.
Frank's number was the sixth out of the tumbler. There were about 30 numbers hunting spots, or blinds, and being sixth gave us a pretty chance to select one of the more productive spots. The USFWS monitors exactly how many geese have been taken at each spot, and the results are posted, so it's easy to see that some blinds are more productive than others.
As soon as we signed up for our blind, we hopped in the truck and headed for the parking lot in the refuge. It was still dark, and we were in a convoy. Another petro-chemical-intensive human activity. All the hunters parked in one muddy lot and walked perhaps a mile or so to their blind. Many used wagons or carts to haul their decoys and gear. Frank had a whole pile of decoys, but didn't have a cart, so we stuffed them all into a couple of big bags and carried them on our backs. We also carried bags with food, hot coffee, water bottles, shotgun shells, and of course a couple of shotguns. One of the refuge rules was that you could not make even a single return trip to the vehicle. Once you were out, you had to stay out until you were done. Hunters were allowed only 10 shotgun shells in their possession, too, so the amount of shooting was quite limited.
The walk to the blind wasn't much fun. The bag of decoys hung down to my feet, so I had to sort of hold it off to one side. The bag of food and stuff was heavy and didn't carry comfortably, either. The ground was muddy, and my old LL bean boots quickly became 10-pound balls of mud. It was dark and hard to tell the difference between a lump of mud and and hole in the ground. I was hot and sweaty by the time we reached out blind.
The blind was not really a blind at all, but a bench set into the edge of a field of standing corn. We set the decoys up in the adjacent field, which was freshly sprouted winter wheat. Then we sat and got cold. I think the geese were supposed to come over from the Shiawassee River, which was probably only a half-mile to the north, to feed in the corn and wheat. We could hear them over there all morning, but they must not have been in the mood for corn and wheat. We watched a lot geese fly over, way above us, paying no attention to our decoys.
There were a couple of close calls. Once a pair flew low overhead and looked at the spread of decoys. Frank called to them, they called back, even turned around in a couple of circles overhead, possibly considering landing by the decoys, possibly just wondering what those silly men with guns were doing in the corn field. Another single goose came even closer, made a circle over the guys in the blind to our south about 100 yards. It, too, flew away. Everthing we had with us and on us, expecting my brown pants, was corn-stalk camo. I borrowed a coat from Frank, and he made me leave my blue backpack in the truck. I wore Quinn's camo baseball cap. But still the geese didn't land.
We watched some deer feeding on the wheat for a while. We saw lots of ducks fly overhead, and many smaller birds, too. We saw a hawk land in the wheat, capture a small mammal, and fly away with it. But no geese came close enough for a shot. We heard a couple of shots from hunters in other blinds, but just a couple. We don't know if they took any geese. Eventually the sun got high enough overhead that we began to thaw. And eventually even the high-flying geese stopped coming around. By about 10:30, most of the other hunters had headed home. We did, too. We might give it another try later this year.
12 October 2008
Falling Leaf Ride
With the colors of fall hanging in so many trees, everyone we knew seemed to be heading off to enjoy the change of season. Those who weren't off to the Chicago marathon, that is. So we thought it would be a good idea to get out for a fall bicycle tour.
Before we could leave, Cindy had to get in her 7-mile run. It's her last weekend before the Detroit half-marathon, so her training schedule has begun to taper - seven miles is short for a long run. Yes, we're back to English units here.
Chelsea is our favorite not-too-distant place to go to ride. We've done fewer rides recently that involved a drive, because we haven't wanted to burn fuel unnecessarily. Chelsea is really nice town, and the roads in the Waterloo Recreation Area are curvy and hilly with not-too-much traffic. Very nice. How many times have I touted this place in this blog?
We parked in our usual parking spot beside the Jiffy Mix grain tower. Link to a previous post with pictures of Jiffy and the Amtrak train here. Mike's Deli provided us with some delicious sandwiches for lunch before our ride.
The fall colors were everything we'd expected.
It was a short ride, we only spent a couple of hours on the tandems. Probably too short to justify the nearly 100 miles that we drove the car, but it was nice to get out again.
Coming up next weekend: Cindy's half-marathon in Detroit!!
Before we could leave, Cindy had to get in her 7-mile run. It's her last weekend before the Detroit half-marathon, so her training schedule has begun to taper - seven miles is short for a long run. Yes, we're back to English units here.
Chelsea is our favorite not-too-distant place to go to ride. We've done fewer rides recently that involved a drive, because we haven't wanted to burn fuel unnecessarily. Chelsea is really nice town, and the roads in the Waterloo Recreation Area are curvy and hilly with not-too-much traffic. Very nice. How many times have I touted this place in this blog?
We parked in our usual parking spot beside the Jiffy Mix grain tower. Link to a previous post with pictures of Jiffy and the Amtrak train here. Mike's Deli provided us with some delicious sandwiches for lunch before our ride.
The fall colors were everything we'd expected.
It was a short ride, we only spent a couple of hours on the tandems. Probably too short to justify the nearly 100 miles that we drove the car, but it was nice to get out again.
Coming up next weekend: Cindy's half-marathon in Detroit!!
Dog bite
Sometime back in August we started cleaning the deck. Gobs of green-gray grunge had grown thick, creating a gross and, when wet, greasy coating on the surfaces of the wood. We scrubbed and scrubbed and eventually it came clean. Most of it. And then the fall rains set in and soaked the wood, delaying the staining of the newly-found surfaces.
In addition to cleaning the deck, we extracted the stump that protruded through the floor near one corner. The extraction was quite a project. We should perhaps have hired a good dentist. Once I had it was cut off underneath the deck, it took both kids and Sharon to help me gradually lever the thing up and out of the hole. When the deck was new, several years before it was our deck, it was probably really nice having that big tree to create a natural umbrella. Perhaps instead of patching the hole where the tree came through, we should have planted another. That would have required a little deeper digging to extract the rest of the stump. It's still an option.
Here's Quinn popping up through the tree hole a few weeks ago:
And this is the deck with it's fresh coat of stain, just a couple of weeks ago:
We still have the stump. Perhaps, since Quinn just loves "stump-jumpin'" on his little red and white bicycle, we should figure out a way for him to jump it. It's not more than 30 cm in diamter.
And what does this have to do with a dog bite, anyway? Nothing really, but last weekend the kids and I went to Rose Lake for a run-n-ride. Rose Lake is a public hunting and wildlife area with lots of good trails for skiing, biking, and running. We went on a Sunday afternoon while Cindy was resting after a 10-mile training run. I ran, and the kids rode the trails (we've been testing out everyone's interest in doing some trail running and mountain biking). While we were there, we passed a man walking a couple of skinnny white dogs. He warned us not to pet them as we went by. He had their leashes in his hand but they were running ahead on the trail. When they heard us, they turned around to run back to him - maybe he had called them, but I'm not sure. As they ran past us, back toward their owner, one of them took a bite of me. It nipped me on the calf, only slightly breaking the skin, but leaving quite a bruise. I yelped! He put the dog on a a leash, and apologized. Even now, a week later, I have an oval bruise on my leg that's about 30 by 40 millimeters across. We talked to the man briefly and he assured us that the dogs had had rabies shots - but was I going to try to read those tags? No. I should have asked for his name so I could confirm the status of their shots. I didn't. Later we thought we got his license plate, but we must have been wrong, because the plates didn't match the vehicle the guy was driving, and the owner of that car said he was nowhere near the park that day. Maybe I got a couple of letters or numbers turned around, but I didn't think so. Interestingly, the guy the officer spoke to did have a white dog registered to him, but not two white dogs.
I have until Wednesday this week to decide whether I should start the series of rabies vaccinations. I think I will not. There have been no dogs with rabies in this area for several years, and this year only two bats have tested positive. No raccoons and no skunks, either. I think my odds are pretty good, but there is a very, very slight risk.
In addition to cleaning the deck, we extracted the stump that protruded through the floor near one corner. The extraction was quite a project. We should perhaps have hired a good dentist. Once I had it was cut off underneath the deck, it took both kids and Sharon to help me gradually lever the thing up and out of the hole. When the deck was new, several years before it was our deck, it was probably really nice having that big tree to create a natural umbrella. Perhaps instead of patching the hole where the tree came through, we should have planted another. That would have required a little deeper digging to extract the rest of the stump. It's still an option.
Here's Quinn popping up through the tree hole a few weeks ago:
And this is the deck with it's fresh coat of stain, just a couple of weeks ago:
We still have the stump. Perhaps, since Quinn just loves "stump-jumpin'" on his little red and white bicycle, we should figure out a way for him to jump it. It's not more than 30 cm in diamter.
And what does this have to do with a dog bite, anyway? Nothing really, but last weekend the kids and I went to Rose Lake for a run-n-ride. Rose Lake is a public hunting and wildlife area with lots of good trails for skiing, biking, and running. We went on a Sunday afternoon while Cindy was resting after a 10-mile training run. I ran, and the kids rode the trails (we've been testing out everyone's interest in doing some trail running and mountain biking). While we were there, we passed a man walking a couple of skinnny white dogs. He warned us not to pet them as we went by. He had their leashes in his hand but they were running ahead on the trail. When they heard us, they turned around to run back to him - maybe he had called them, but I'm not sure. As they ran past us, back toward their owner, one of them took a bite of me. It nipped me on the calf, only slightly breaking the skin, but leaving quite a bruise. I yelped! He put the dog on a a leash, and apologized. Even now, a week later, I have an oval bruise on my leg that's about 30 by 40 millimeters across. We talked to the man briefly and he assured us that the dogs had had rabies shots - but was I going to try to read those tags? No. I should have asked for his name so I could confirm the status of their shots. I didn't. Later we thought we got his license plate, but we must have been wrong, because the plates didn't match the vehicle the guy was driving, and the owner of that car said he was nowhere near the park that day. Maybe I got a couple of letters or numbers turned around, but I didn't think so. Interestingly, the guy the officer spoke to did have a white dog registered to him, but not two white dogs.
I have until Wednesday this week to decide whether I should start the series of rabies vaccinations. I think I will not. There have been no dogs with rabies in this area for several years, and this year only two bats have tested positive. No raccoons and no skunks, either. I think my odds are pretty good, but there is a very, very slight risk.
25 September 2008
22 September 2008
Autumn Classic
Somebody - my mother, I think - mentioned that there was nothing new to read on the blog, so it must be time for another entry.
Yesterday we all went to Lake Lansing Park so Cindy and the kids could run in the Playmakers Autumn Classic. What better way to welcome the change of seasons? The Autumn Classic is an 8k that circles Lake Lansing on a mix of paths and paved and gravel roads (that's 5 miles, for those of you that are stuck in the old ways). The morning was cool and foggy and just perfect for a running race through the trees and wetlands that surround the lake. I wish I had run it, too. Cindy had a great run, finishing in 45:54, with a 9:14 min/mile pace (note that we're still thinking pace in miles here). I can't say much about Cindy's run, except that she finished in great time and didn't complain of any pains or problems. I'm very impressed with her progress this summer and really looking forward to seeing her finish the half-marathon next month in Detroit!
Here are a few photos. I took three of them, but the picture of Cindy was taken by Dan Carey. The kids photos are quite blurry, but I posted them anyway because it's fun to see them in motion.
Quinn and Abbey didn't run the 8k, but chose to do the kids 1/2 mile run instead. The kids runs are always a little wild, but loads of fun, with a variety of sizes and ages represented. It won't be too long before Abbey's ready to start running longer events, and then of course it's likely that Quinn will be right behind her. Abbey's participating in Girls on the Run this year, so she stays after school twice a week to play games, exercise, and train. The Lansing Area Girls on the Run culminates with a 5k event on November 8th. Abbey plans to follow the Girls on the Run event by running a 5k with me. She wants to do the Polar Bear 5k this year - if it happens - an event in which I ran on the last Saturday in January this year. Brrr. It was cold, and most of the course had a couple of inches of snow. More than anything else, I think she's picked the Polar Bear 5k because of the polar bear. We've also got the Turkeyman Trot on Thanksgiving Day - not sure how we'll decide who gets to run that one.
So... my head spins with thoughts of spinning cranks and spokes and wheels. After the ODRAM, in which I had such a good time, I was dreaming of more fast road biking. Maybe finding a group of roadies to ride with once a week or so - to hammer out some high speed miles. Back in Seattle, I loved the Monday rides around Mercer Island with NOAA Fisheries cyclists. Maybe I'd revive my old Fuji - or build a Gunnar! Something suitable for that sort of thing. But the kids have been continuing to express an interest in mountain biking. On our regular run-n-rides, they're always bugging me to run the trails in our local parks. In Okemos, we have a few easy paths open to running and riding, with just a few short climbs and drops that challenge them. Slightly less locally, but still only 20 minutes to an hour away (by car, of course) we have several choices for mountain bike trails, including Burchfield Park, Sleepy Hollow, Rose Lake, and Pinckney Recreation Area, but how could we make that work? Run-n-rides on the trails? Cindy and I could run while the kids ride? Cindy and I only have our old mountain bikes that are set up for commuting - they could be perhaps be put back into trail service again. Could Quinn really ride trails on his BMX bike? Run-n-rides on the trails? We have the mountain tandems, too? And then there's that trip to Colorado we've been thinking about? Tandems? Singles? Roads? Trails? So many miles - so little time, so little money - can we do it all? Back in the days of Oxford, OH, my biking buddies were mountain bikers - that was good fun and good exercise, too. I still dream that someday I'll own a dual-suspension mountain bike - a new Stumpy? A Blur? A Hawg? A Rush? A reality check?
Yesterday we all went to Lake Lansing Park so Cindy and the kids could run in the Playmakers Autumn Classic. What better way to welcome the change of seasons? The Autumn Classic is an 8k that circles Lake Lansing on a mix of paths and paved and gravel roads (that's 5 miles, for those of you that are stuck in the old ways). The morning was cool and foggy and just perfect for a running race through the trees and wetlands that surround the lake. I wish I had run it, too. Cindy had a great run, finishing in 45:54, with a 9:14 min/mile pace (note that we're still thinking pace in miles here). I can't say much about Cindy's run, except that she finished in great time and didn't complain of any pains or problems. I'm very impressed with her progress this summer and really looking forward to seeing her finish the half-marathon next month in Detroit!
Here are a few photos. I took three of them, but the picture of Cindy was taken by Dan Carey. The kids photos are quite blurry, but I posted them anyway because it's fun to see them in motion.
Quinn and Abbey didn't run the 8k, but chose to do the kids 1/2 mile run instead. The kids runs are always a little wild, but loads of fun, with a variety of sizes and ages represented. It won't be too long before Abbey's ready to start running longer events, and then of course it's likely that Quinn will be right behind her. Abbey's participating in Girls on the Run this year, so she stays after school twice a week to play games, exercise, and train. The Lansing Area Girls on the Run culminates with a 5k event on November 8th. Abbey plans to follow the Girls on the Run event by running a 5k with me. She wants to do the Polar Bear 5k this year - if it happens - an event in which I ran on the last Saturday in January this year. Brrr. It was cold, and most of the course had a couple of inches of snow. More than anything else, I think she's picked the Polar Bear 5k because of the polar bear. We've also got the Turkeyman Trot on Thanksgiving Day - not sure how we'll decide who gets to run that one.
So... my head spins with thoughts of spinning cranks and spokes and wheels. After the ODRAM, in which I had such a good time, I was dreaming of more fast road biking. Maybe finding a group of roadies to ride with once a week or so - to hammer out some high speed miles. Back in Seattle, I loved the Monday rides around Mercer Island with NOAA Fisheries cyclists. Maybe I'd revive my old Fuji - or build a Gunnar! Something suitable for that sort of thing. But the kids have been continuing to express an interest in mountain biking. On our regular run-n-rides, they're always bugging me to run the trails in our local parks. In Okemos, we have a few easy paths open to running and riding, with just a few short climbs and drops that challenge them. Slightly less locally, but still only 20 minutes to an hour away (by car, of course) we have several choices for mountain bike trails, including Burchfield Park, Sleepy Hollow, Rose Lake, and Pinckney Recreation Area, but how could we make that work? Run-n-rides on the trails? Cindy and I could run while the kids ride? Cindy and I only have our old mountain bikes that are set up for commuting - they could be perhaps be put back into trail service again. Could Quinn really ride trails on his BMX bike? Run-n-rides on the trails? We have the mountain tandems, too? And then there's that trip to Colorado we've been thinking about? Tandems? Singles? Roads? Trails? So many miles - so little time, so little money - can we do it all? Back in the days of Oxford, OH, my biking buddies were mountain bikers - that was good fun and good exercise, too. I still dream that someday I'll own a dual-suspension mountain bike - a new Stumpy? A Blur? A Hawg? A Rush? A reality check?
07 September 2008
ODRAM 2008
Last weekend I rode the LMB's One Day Ride Across Michigan. The weather was absolutely wonderful, with plenty of sunshine and a mostly favorable light wind. The ride went from one side of the state to the other, west to east. It was 145 miles of challenging, somewhat sweaty, slightly painful fun.
The ODRAM doesn't follow the typical format for a club ride, which comprises a loop route with various stops along the way for food and water, with support vehicles cruising along the route to provide assistance if needed. Instead, ODRAM riders check in at the start of the ride (in the dark) and are on their own until they reach the finish where they check out, although there is a lunch provided at the approximate half-way point of the route.
The ride starts at Meinert County Park on the west shore of the state, just a little north of the Montague-Whitehall area, and follows a not-quite perfectly straight line across the state, finishing at Bay City State Park on the shore of Saginaw Bay. The route is relatively flat, with a starting elevation of about 575 ft at Meinert County Park beside Lake Michigan. Through gently rolling hills it gradually climbs to mile 80 where it peaks at 1080 ft. After the high point - and lunch - at mile 80, the rolling hills get a little flatter and the elevation gradually drops back down to finish at Saginaw Bay with about the same elevation as the start (the lakes are connected at the top of the state, of course, so have a similar elevation).
Since on-the-road support isn't provided by the organizers, and since the ride doesn't end where it starts, most riders arrange to have some sort of support follow them along the route. Support strategies vary, including commercial service through a bicycle shop (Velo City Cycles - a great shop in Holland, MI - maybe someday they'll let me open an Okemos branch) that provides food and water on route and a ride back from the finish to the start in tour bus. More commonly, friends or family members in cars meet riders at designated locations along the route. For a few, including me, there was no support along the route; all food and water was carried on the bike, and additional water was purchased at gas stations or other stores along the route. Cindy and her mom and the kids were not more than an hour or two away in our van and would have been available by phone if I'd run into unexpected problems I couldn't handle on the route. All of this means that participating in the ride is rather expensive in terms of fuel cost and in indebtedness to friends or family, and it isn't exactly a low-carbon emission sort of ride, with perhaps 25 or more (just guessing) cars following about 100 riders across the state. But it was fun!
Here's how it went:
Friday after the kids got out of school we drove to a little motel in Montague; 'we' included Cindy, Abbey, Quinn, and Grandma. That's perhaps a story in itself, but I'll save it for now. It was pretty nice, for a very low-budget operation, and had a hot tub in each room. The kids shared a room with Gradma, and they did love their hot tub. Cindy and I got a separate room so we didn't wake the rest of the group when we got up early in the morning to deliver me and my Soma Double Cross to the start of the ride.
The alarm went of at 4:30 a.m. I took a quick shower and assembled my gear. I made some coffee in the room and ate a bowl of yogurt mixed with Cindy's fresh home-made granola. It was close to 5:30 a.m. by the time we left the hotel. I was checking in at the registration table around 6:00 a.m. and pedaling up the road by about 6:20 a.m. It was a chilly morning, the sun had not begun to rise, and there was very light drizzle falling.
I used a tire-driven generator to run my headlight and taillight, and I also had a couple of extra battery-powered taillights on the rear. I used a little white LED light on my helmet that pointed down toward the map case on my handlebar bag. My lighting worked very well, although I think I had accidentally directed my headlight a little low when was installing my fenders recently, so the road wasn't lit as far in front of me as usual.
To keep warm, I wore a light wool top under a bicycling jersey. My feet were a little cold in the morning with only thin Smartwool socks under my close-fitting cycling shoes.
On my bike, I had a Jandd rack bag in the rear that carried my tool bag, a couple of tubes, a folded spare tire, my little pump, four GU energy gels, four Mojo bars, and eight single-serving packages of GU2O energy-and-electrolyte drink mix. The rack bag was only about 2/3 full, but it weighed a few pounds. In my handle-bar bag, which was about half full, I had my rain jacket, wallet, some eye drops, chap-stick, hand-sanitizer, sunscreen, glasses case with extra lenses and an extra mirror (rear-view that attaches to my glasses), bandanna, wallet, another four energy gels and another four Mojo bars. I have to keep the handlebar bag pretty light or it affects the steering of the bicycle. On my bicycle frame I carried two water bottles. My intention was to stop at convenience stores and gas stations to buy bottled water that I would mix with the GU2O packets in one water bottle. The other water bottle would just have water. All things considered, I think I was carrying more stuff than just about anybody else on the ride, and several pounds more than most.
For the first few miles I rode about 16 miles per hour. My strategy was to ride at a slow and steady pace so that I didn't burn out before the end. I was riding alone, but could see one little point of red light that was another rider a half mile or so in front of me. After just a few miles I was passed by a rider who was using a very bright headlight on his helmet and another on his handlebar. His lights lit the road and the surrounding trees and fields like daylight. I wondered how long his battery would last with that much output. I really like my generator-powered lights since they've been very reliable and I never have to worry about batteries, although I think I'd prefer a generator hub over the tire-driven version. Those are too expensive for me at the moment, however.
After about 12 miles, we crossed a small dam that was for foot- and bicycle-traffic only. It was the only 50 yards or so of the route that was not shared with motor vehicles. At that time the sky was light enough that I shut off my generator. I also passed the guy with the dim taillight and caught up with the guy with the bright headlights. The bright headlight guy was Adam, and I rode pretty much the rest of the ride with him. He was a 230-pound guy riding a 17.5-pound Specialized carbon-framed racing bicycle on it's third set of high-dollar ultra-light wheels. My wheels are quite stout, hand-built, 36-spoke touring wheels, and would likely support Adam's mass quite nicely. But he was a gram-counting sort of fellow. To transport my 150 pounds, I was on a 28-pound bicycle, not counting water bottles, handlebar bag, and trunk bag. It must have been 35 or even 40 pounds with the bottles and bags attached. On Adam's bike there were two smallish water bottles, his battery-powered lights (which he passed off to his support crew at the first stop), and a rather tiny under-the-seat bag that was about the size of a large pear. I would guess it held a multi-tool, a patch kit, and maybe a CO2 cartridge pump. Like most of the ODRAM riders, he was totally dependent on his support crew for food, water, and anything but very minor repairs. However, if you add up the weight of our bodies, bicycles, and gear, I was still pulling less total weight up the hills. He went faster going down, of course.
I am glad I met up with Adam. We were pretty well-matched, despite our differences in weight and gear, and it was fun to have someone to talk with while riding. I also rode much faster because I rode with him. We maintained a cruising pace of around 18 to 20 miles per hour during the morning, which was considerably faster than the 15 to 16 mph I had planned. In fact, at first I considered suggesting that he ride ahead because I was concerned I wouldn't be able to maintain his pace for the duration of the ride. We rode together except for one short stretch following a stop at a grocery, in which there was a line for the bathroom that seemed too long to wait. I lost track of him when he went looking for his support crew, so I decided to ride on to the next possible potty stop just a short distance down the road. He must have passed me while I was stopped, but we met up again a few miles down the road. Apparently, he'd even turned around for a mile or two to look for me. I felt a little guilty when I learned that.
The ride during the morning was remarkably, well, unremarkable. Once the sun was up, the scenery didn't change much. Agricultural fields separated by narrow bands of trees lined both sides of the road. Occasionally we passed through a small town, some of them looked worth a second visit, some didn't. Somewhere around mile 50, around 10ish a.m. we crossed the dam - Hardy Dam, I suppose - at the Hardy Dam Pond, which was kind of interesting because the road went across the spillway and dam, and at the spillway was lower than the level of the water just on the other side of the concrete wall. There was a nice little park beside the lake, which I thought might be good place for Cindy and the kids to visit. A few miles later, around 10:30 I finally got too warm and pulled off my wool shirt.
The lunch stop at mile 80 was a welcome site. I was ready to get off the saddle for a few minutes. The church ladies had prepared chicken noodle soup, and provided fruit, sandwiches, and cookies. I ate a bit of everything except the soup. I just didn't feel like eating a hot bowl of soup in the middle of a long, hot ride. I would have loved to try the soup if the weather had been cold and wet.
But the weather was perfect. After the light drizzle early in the morning the sky became mostly sunny with a high in the low 70s. The wind was mostly calm in the morning, although for a short time we rode into a slight breeze from the east. After lunch the wind began to pick up from the west and then became straight from the west. It was really helpful during the last couple of hours.
After lunch, as the road flattened and the wind picked up, Adam and I really made good time. We began to realize that we were close to the front of the group of about 95 ODRAM riders. At mile 115, Adam's girlfriend said she'd counted riders ahead of us and we were the 9th and 10th in the group.
The ODRAM is not a race. My attitude during training and at the start was that it was a tour; an easy but speedy ride across the state. It makes sense to ride gently, but it's also true that the slower you ride the longer you spend in the saddle. My goal was to finish strong and comfortable with an average pace at or above 15 mph. I generally try to be sort of opposed to the prevalent racing-bike mentality in which all "real" cyclists ride 15-pound racing bikes with only the latest carbon-fiber components and super-light wheels, preferring the idea of the classically-styled randonneuring bicycle. However, I do love the challenge of pushing my limits, and racing against myself. Even riding with Adam at a faster pace, we generally rode side-by-side rather than drafting behind one another in a single file line (of course, we pulled into a single file line when traffic approached from behind). To me, this may have been because it really would have seemed like we were in a race if we were riding single file and trading positions. Also, with my handlebar bag, which I love because of the clear map pocket on top, I can't actually see the front of my front wheel, which makes riding close together a little more scary. I considered suggesting that we ride in a pace line formation, but it's a little more risky. It might have been worth it if we'd had a head wind. Adam's shoulders being perhaps double the width of mine, I surely could have disappeared in his slip stream. Of course, it's also easier to pass the time talking when you're riding side-by-side.
There were two riders that passed Adam and me several times. They were riding very high-end racing machines, drafting behind one another, and were travelling several miles per hour faster than us, but they took longer and more frequent breaks than us. Although during the last 20 to 30 miles we had pushed our speed up (with the help of a tail wind) and were traveling at 21 to 23 mph most of the time, these two guys passed us with about 15 miles to go. Adam was sure that meant they would finish ahead of us, and I could tell he had hoped they wouldn't, but then a few miles later, to our surprise, we passed them again - they were at the side of the road fixing a flat. At this point we also began to realize we had the potential to finish prior to 4 p.m., so we continued to push as hard as we could toward the finish. We were not sure exactly how far we had to go because my computer was reading about 7 miles fewer than the map and cue sheet indicated. Adam's computer had quit early in the ride. In the end, it turned out that my computer was right, but the cue sheet mileage had not been updated following some minor alterations that shortened this year's route to 145 miles.
Adam had been complaining of discomfort in his seat since early in the ride. I guess with his weight or maybe some aspect of his anatomy (and that's enough of that sort of talk), he has quite a bit of trouble with saddle discomfort. I was riding a recently purchased Terry Falcon saddle, and it was very comfortable for the entire ride. I had only minimal discomfort near the end. However, my legs were beginning to hurt in those last few miles, and for a few miles in which we turned north into and across the wind, I was having trouble finding the energy within to maintain the 20+ mph pace, but somehow I did. My quads burned from fatigue, and my calves, particularly the left, were beginning to feel that familiar but hard-to-describe sort of pre-cramp feeling that indicates the end is near.
And then we were there. We cruised into Bay City State Park as numbers 9 and 10. The racers with the flat tire finished a few minutes behind us. I think all the early finishers were sort of astounded at my steel rig with it's fat tires (28 mm instead of the typical 23mm), rack and trunk bag, handlebar bag, fenders, 36-spoke wheels, shiny polished aluminum components, and complete absence of carbon-fiber. Nobody said anything. Obviously, my setup worked quite well, fast and comfortable.
A bicycle computer keeps track of average pace, but only while the bike is moving, so the average pace reflects distance per time while the wheels are turning, and is always less than the cruising speed you think you're maintaining during the ride. Our average pace in the morning was barely 17 miles per hour, but due to the flatter route and some additional tail wind in the afternoon, our overall pace increased to 17.5 miles per hour for the entire ride. That's 8 hours and 18 minutes riding time. Since we started at 6:20 a.m. and finished at about 3:45, we must have spent just over an hour at stops for water and lunch. That was a probably two hours faster than I'd plan to finish the ride at my comfortable touring pace. It's difficult for me to resist the opportunity to ride hard.
After the ride, at the LMB tent at the end, each rider was photographed with his or her bicycle, and there were some yummy cupcakes waiting to be eaten. I got to the end before Cindy, Sharon, and the kids arrived, so I had plenty of time to rest in the park by the bay at a picnic table in the shade of a big oak tree with my Soma by my side.
Stats:
145 miles
8.3 hours in the saddle
17.5 miles per hour average riding pace
9.5 hours total time
15.3 miles per hour based on total time, start to end
Calories and fluids:
6 bottles water with GU20 mix
2 bottles water with no mix
4 packs of GU; 2 caffeinated, 2 non-caffeinated
4 Clif Mojo Bars
1 turkey sandwich
1 banana and a bunch of grapes
2 peanut butter cookies
Next year? Will I do it next year? Maybe. The hard part is getting ready for a ride like this. Doing it is easy. Training just takes a little more time on the bicycle than I feel is reasonable, given my family, career, and home-repair commitments. But I do enjoy it. If I do it again, I'll consider taking the Velo City Cycles support. It would mean Cindy and the kids wouldn't have to drive across the state to start and end with me. And my hefty steel bike? Well, if I did it with Velo City Cycles, I could drop quite a lot of the extra gear. Don't expect to find me riding a plastic bike with 23c tires, but it would be fun to rig up something just a little speedier. Maybe a Soma Smoothie ES? A Gunnar Sport? I'd like to build up on of these bikes with a speedy wheelset and a compact double - maybe even some of those Ultegra STI shifters to make riding a pace line a little easier. It's always fun to dream. Who knows, maybe I'd even consider one of those carbon-fiber machines, but it seems unlikely.
The ODRAM doesn't follow the typical format for a club ride, which comprises a loop route with various stops along the way for food and water, with support vehicles cruising along the route to provide assistance if needed. Instead, ODRAM riders check in at the start of the ride (in the dark) and are on their own until they reach the finish where they check out, although there is a lunch provided at the approximate half-way point of the route.
The ride starts at Meinert County Park on the west shore of the state, just a little north of the Montague-Whitehall area, and follows a not-quite perfectly straight line across the state, finishing at Bay City State Park on the shore of Saginaw Bay. The route is relatively flat, with a starting elevation of about 575 ft at Meinert County Park beside Lake Michigan. Through gently rolling hills it gradually climbs to mile 80 where it peaks at 1080 ft. After the high point - and lunch - at mile 80, the rolling hills get a little flatter and the elevation gradually drops back down to finish at Saginaw Bay with about the same elevation as the start (the lakes are connected at the top of the state, of course, so have a similar elevation).
Since on-the-road support isn't provided by the organizers, and since the ride doesn't end where it starts, most riders arrange to have some sort of support follow them along the route. Support strategies vary, including commercial service through a bicycle shop (Velo City Cycles - a great shop in Holland, MI - maybe someday they'll let me open an Okemos branch) that provides food and water on route and a ride back from the finish to the start in tour bus. More commonly, friends or family members in cars meet riders at designated locations along the route. For a few, including me, there was no support along the route; all food and water was carried on the bike, and additional water was purchased at gas stations or other stores along the route. Cindy and her mom and the kids were not more than an hour or two away in our van and would have been available by phone if I'd run into unexpected problems I couldn't handle on the route. All of this means that participating in the ride is rather expensive in terms of fuel cost and in indebtedness to friends or family, and it isn't exactly a low-carbon emission sort of ride, with perhaps 25 or more (just guessing) cars following about 100 riders across the state. But it was fun!
Here's how it went:
Friday after the kids got out of school we drove to a little motel in Montague; 'we' included Cindy, Abbey, Quinn, and Grandma. That's perhaps a story in itself, but I'll save it for now. It was pretty nice, for a very low-budget operation, and had a hot tub in each room. The kids shared a room with Gradma, and they did love their hot tub. Cindy and I got a separate room so we didn't wake the rest of the group when we got up early in the morning to deliver me and my Soma Double Cross to the start of the ride.
The alarm went of at 4:30 a.m. I took a quick shower and assembled my gear. I made some coffee in the room and ate a bowl of yogurt mixed with Cindy's fresh home-made granola. It was close to 5:30 a.m. by the time we left the hotel. I was checking in at the registration table around 6:00 a.m. and pedaling up the road by about 6:20 a.m. It was a chilly morning, the sun had not begun to rise, and there was very light drizzle falling.
I used a tire-driven generator to run my headlight and taillight, and I also had a couple of extra battery-powered taillights on the rear. I used a little white LED light on my helmet that pointed down toward the map case on my handlebar bag. My lighting worked very well, although I think I had accidentally directed my headlight a little low when was installing my fenders recently, so the road wasn't lit as far in front of me as usual.
To keep warm, I wore a light wool top under a bicycling jersey. My feet were a little cold in the morning with only thin Smartwool socks under my close-fitting cycling shoes.
On my bike, I had a Jandd rack bag in the rear that carried my tool bag, a couple of tubes, a folded spare tire, my little pump, four GU energy gels, four Mojo bars, and eight single-serving packages of GU2O energy-and-electrolyte drink mix. The rack bag was only about 2/3 full, but it weighed a few pounds. In my handle-bar bag, which was about half full, I had my rain jacket, wallet, some eye drops, chap-stick, hand-sanitizer, sunscreen, glasses case with extra lenses and an extra mirror (rear-view that attaches to my glasses), bandanna, wallet, another four energy gels and another four Mojo bars. I have to keep the handlebar bag pretty light or it affects the steering of the bicycle. On my bicycle frame I carried two water bottles. My intention was to stop at convenience stores and gas stations to buy bottled water that I would mix with the GU2O packets in one water bottle. The other water bottle would just have water. All things considered, I think I was carrying more stuff than just about anybody else on the ride, and several pounds more than most.
For the first few miles I rode about 16 miles per hour. My strategy was to ride at a slow and steady pace so that I didn't burn out before the end. I was riding alone, but could see one little point of red light that was another rider a half mile or so in front of me. After just a few miles I was passed by a rider who was using a very bright headlight on his helmet and another on his handlebar. His lights lit the road and the surrounding trees and fields like daylight. I wondered how long his battery would last with that much output. I really like my generator-powered lights since they've been very reliable and I never have to worry about batteries, although I think I'd prefer a generator hub over the tire-driven version. Those are too expensive for me at the moment, however.
After about 12 miles, we crossed a small dam that was for foot- and bicycle-traffic only. It was the only 50 yards or so of the route that was not shared with motor vehicles. At that time the sky was light enough that I shut off my generator. I also passed the guy with the dim taillight and caught up with the guy with the bright headlights. The bright headlight guy was Adam, and I rode pretty much the rest of the ride with him. He was a 230-pound guy riding a 17.5-pound Specialized carbon-framed racing bicycle on it's third set of high-dollar ultra-light wheels. My wheels are quite stout, hand-built, 36-spoke touring wheels, and would likely support Adam's mass quite nicely. But he was a gram-counting sort of fellow. To transport my 150 pounds, I was on a 28-pound bicycle, not counting water bottles, handlebar bag, and trunk bag. It must have been 35 or even 40 pounds with the bottles and bags attached. On Adam's bike there were two smallish water bottles, his battery-powered lights (which he passed off to his support crew at the first stop), and a rather tiny under-the-seat bag that was about the size of a large pear. I would guess it held a multi-tool, a patch kit, and maybe a CO2 cartridge pump. Like most of the ODRAM riders, he was totally dependent on his support crew for food, water, and anything but very minor repairs. However, if you add up the weight of our bodies, bicycles, and gear, I was still pulling less total weight up the hills. He went faster going down, of course.
I am glad I met up with Adam. We were pretty well-matched, despite our differences in weight and gear, and it was fun to have someone to talk with while riding. I also rode much faster because I rode with him. We maintained a cruising pace of around 18 to 20 miles per hour during the morning, which was considerably faster than the 15 to 16 mph I had planned. In fact, at first I considered suggesting that he ride ahead because I was concerned I wouldn't be able to maintain his pace for the duration of the ride. We rode together except for one short stretch following a stop at a grocery, in which there was a line for the bathroom that seemed too long to wait. I lost track of him when he went looking for his support crew, so I decided to ride on to the next possible potty stop just a short distance down the road. He must have passed me while I was stopped, but we met up again a few miles down the road. Apparently, he'd even turned around for a mile or two to look for me. I felt a little guilty when I learned that.
The ride during the morning was remarkably, well, unremarkable. Once the sun was up, the scenery didn't change much. Agricultural fields separated by narrow bands of trees lined both sides of the road. Occasionally we passed through a small town, some of them looked worth a second visit, some didn't. Somewhere around mile 50, around 10ish a.m. we crossed the dam - Hardy Dam, I suppose - at the Hardy Dam Pond, which was kind of interesting because the road went across the spillway and dam, and at the spillway was lower than the level of the water just on the other side of the concrete wall. There was a nice little park beside the lake, which I thought might be good place for Cindy and the kids to visit. A few miles later, around 10:30 I finally got too warm and pulled off my wool shirt.
The lunch stop at mile 80 was a welcome site. I was ready to get off the saddle for a few minutes. The church ladies had prepared chicken noodle soup, and provided fruit, sandwiches, and cookies. I ate a bit of everything except the soup. I just didn't feel like eating a hot bowl of soup in the middle of a long, hot ride. I would have loved to try the soup if the weather had been cold and wet.
But the weather was perfect. After the light drizzle early in the morning the sky became mostly sunny with a high in the low 70s. The wind was mostly calm in the morning, although for a short time we rode into a slight breeze from the east. After lunch the wind began to pick up from the west and then became straight from the west. It was really helpful during the last couple of hours.
After lunch, as the road flattened and the wind picked up, Adam and I really made good time. We began to realize that we were close to the front of the group of about 95 ODRAM riders. At mile 115, Adam's girlfriend said she'd counted riders ahead of us and we were the 9th and 10th in the group.
The ODRAM is not a race. My attitude during training and at the start was that it was a tour; an easy but speedy ride across the state. It makes sense to ride gently, but it's also true that the slower you ride the longer you spend in the saddle. My goal was to finish strong and comfortable with an average pace at or above 15 mph. I generally try to be sort of opposed to the prevalent racing-bike mentality in which all "real" cyclists ride 15-pound racing bikes with only the latest carbon-fiber components and super-light wheels, preferring the idea of the classically-styled randonneuring bicycle. However, I do love the challenge of pushing my limits, and racing against myself. Even riding with Adam at a faster pace, we generally rode side-by-side rather than drafting behind one another in a single file line (of course, we pulled into a single file line when traffic approached from behind). To me, this may have been because it really would have seemed like we were in a race if we were riding single file and trading positions. Also, with my handlebar bag, which I love because of the clear map pocket on top, I can't actually see the front of my front wheel, which makes riding close together a little more scary. I considered suggesting that we ride in a pace line formation, but it's a little more risky. It might have been worth it if we'd had a head wind. Adam's shoulders being perhaps double the width of mine, I surely could have disappeared in his slip stream. Of course, it's also easier to pass the time talking when you're riding side-by-side.
There were two riders that passed Adam and me several times. They were riding very high-end racing machines, drafting behind one another, and were travelling several miles per hour faster than us, but they took longer and more frequent breaks than us. Although during the last 20 to 30 miles we had pushed our speed up (with the help of a tail wind) and were traveling at 21 to 23 mph most of the time, these two guys passed us with about 15 miles to go. Adam was sure that meant they would finish ahead of us, and I could tell he had hoped they wouldn't, but then a few miles later, to our surprise, we passed them again - they were at the side of the road fixing a flat. At this point we also began to realize we had the potential to finish prior to 4 p.m., so we continued to push as hard as we could toward the finish. We were not sure exactly how far we had to go because my computer was reading about 7 miles fewer than the map and cue sheet indicated. Adam's computer had quit early in the ride. In the end, it turned out that my computer was right, but the cue sheet mileage had not been updated following some minor alterations that shortened this year's route to 145 miles.
Adam had been complaining of discomfort in his seat since early in the ride. I guess with his weight or maybe some aspect of his anatomy (and that's enough of that sort of talk), he has quite a bit of trouble with saddle discomfort. I was riding a recently purchased Terry Falcon saddle, and it was very comfortable for the entire ride. I had only minimal discomfort near the end. However, my legs were beginning to hurt in those last few miles, and for a few miles in which we turned north into and across the wind, I was having trouble finding the energy within to maintain the 20+ mph pace, but somehow I did. My quads burned from fatigue, and my calves, particularly the left, were beginning to feel that familiar but hard-to-describe sort of pre-cramp feeling that indicates the end is near.
And then we were there. We cruised into Bay City State Park as numbers 9 and 10. The racers with the flat tire finished a few minutes behind us. I think all the early finishers were sort of astounded at my steel rig with it's fat tires (28 mm instead of the typical 23mm), rack and trunk bag, handlebar bag, fenders, 36-spoke wheels, shiny polished aluminum components, and complete absence of carbon-fiber. Nobody said anything. Obviously, my setup worked quite well, fast and comfortable.
A bicycle computer keeps track of average pace, but only while the bike is moving, so the average pace reflects distance per time while the wheels are turning, and is always less than the cruising speed you think you're maintaining during the ride. Our average pace in the morning was barely 17 miles per hour, but due to the flatter route and some additional tail wind in the afternoon, our overall pace increased to 17.5 miles per hour for the entire ride. That's 8 hours and 18 minutes riding time. Since we started at 6:20 a.m. and finished at about 3:45, we must have spent just over an hour at stops for water and lunch. That was a probably two hours faster than I'd plan to finish the ride at my comfortable touring pace. It's difficult for me to resist the opportunity to ride hard.
After the ride, at the LMB tent at the end, each rider was photographed with his or her bicycle, and there were some yummy cupcakes waiting to be eaten. I got to the end before Cindy, Sharon, and the kids arrived, so I had plenty of time to rest in the park by the bay at a picnic table in the shade of a big oak tree with my Soma by my side.
Stats:
145 miles
8.3 hours in the saddle
17.5 miles per hour average riding pace
9.5 hours total time
15.3 miles per hour based on total time, start to end
Calories and fluids:
6 bottles water with GU20 mix
2 bottles water with no mix
4 packs of GU; 2 caffeinated, 2 non-caffeinated
4 Clif Mojo Bars
1 turkey sandwich
1 banana and a bunch of grapes
2 peanut butter cookies
Next year? Will I do it next year? Maybe. The hard part is getting ready for a ride like this. Doing it is easy. Training just takes a little more time on the bicycle than I feel is reasonable, given my family, career, and home-repair commitments. But I do enjoy it. If I do it again, I'll consider taking the Velo City Cycles support. It would mean Cindy and the kids wouldn't have to drive across the state to start and end with me. And my hefty steel bike? Well, if I did it with Velo City Cycles, I could drop quite a lot of the extra gear. Don't expect to find me riding a plastic bike with 23c tires, but it would be fun to rig up something just a little speedier. Maybe a Soma Smoothie ES? A Gunnar Sport? I'd like to build up on of these bikes with a speedy wheelset and a compact double - maybe even some of those Ultegra STI shifters to make riding a pace line a little easier. It's always fun to dream. Who knows, maybe I'd even consider one of those carbon-fiber machines, but it seems unlikely.
30 August 2008
Where's the honey?
Our friendly, not-so-little colonies of yellow jackets met a sudden and unexpected demise the other night. Much to our surprise, something ate all of them. Something went to each hole, dug it open, and violently ripped out a whole season of community effort. Days and days of carefully constructed honeycombs, each filled with a new life, a new servant of the colony or even a yet-to-be crowned queen, were ripped out and torn open. And for what purpose? A snack? A tasty treat? The little eggs and larvae were munched away like jelly beans on Easter morning. It was as if mother nature didn't even care. Now, we can proudly say we practice natural pest control.
Here's hole number one, the first and largest. The cavern inside had a volume I would estimate to be around two gallons. Fragments of the paper hive lay all around. There were a few distraught workers still buzzing around. Perhaps the Queen is still safe in her secret underground shelter.
Hole number two, with Quinn's hand for a perspective on size (if you have any idea how big Quinn's hand is).
And number three. Inside the hole were some larger pieces of the exterior of the hive.
The invader dug this hole and others, too, and even left a DNA sample. A raccoon, perhaps? I wonder how many times its nose was stung.
Here's hole number one, the first and largest. The cavern inside had a volume I would estimate to be around two gallons. Fragments of the paper hive lay all around. There were a few distraught workers still buzzing around. Perhaps the Queen is still safe in her secret underground shelter.
Hole number two, with Quinn's hand for a perspective on size (if you have any idea how big Quinn's hand is).
And number three. Inside the hole were some larger pieces of the exterior of the hive.
The invader dug this hole and others, too, and even left a DNA sample. A raccoon, perhaps? I wonder how many times its nose was stung.
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