Grouchiness

Once again, I witnessed grouchiness while riding.

This time, however, it wasn't grouchiness toward me, which is expected, as I am on a bike.  Now, when I encounter grouchiness on the bike, it typically comes in one of the following forms:

• An aggressive acceleration after waiting behind me for, perhaps, multiple seconds, as I negotiate around large piles of glass.
• A loud and long honk.
• Screaming of words out a window at me.  I assume they are words, because they typically sound to me like someone is yelling, "Frumble burly cupcake snot!!!!!" or something like that.

My response is one of the following:

• Nothing.
• A smile.
• A smile and a wave.

After years of riding, I realized an important fact: When people honk or yell at me, they aren't actually honking or yelling because of me. Rather, something in life is upsetting them, and I am an easy way to vent some of that anger.

So, back to the recent grouchiness.  I was exploring, and came to an area with a dirt road that, upon viewing it in person, looked to be not so road-bikey.  As I was turning around, I heard the following conversation between a secruity guard and a guy in a truck.  I had obviously come in after the initial discussion, but what I heard went something like:

Guy: I understand, but next time try to show a little respect
Guard: You should do the same.  You are on private property.
Guy: I know that now, but I didn't know it before.  I'm just saying that you could have been nicer.
Guard: You could have been nicer as well.  You were somewhere you had no right to be, and you acted like you did.

And so on.  As I rode away, two things struck me.  First of all, I should have said something.  I could have been the peacemaker.  I'm pretty sure that I could have defused the conflict very quickly.  Secondly, either of these people could have ended the disagreement.  If either had said, "I understand.  Have a great day, and I'm sorry for any confusion.," it would have been over.  Interestingly, that very quote could have come from either of them.

So, going forward, I hope that I can be quick to defuse, but, before it even gets to that, I want to be, as James suggests, quick to listen, slow to speak, and slow to become angry.

"Nice pull."

Today was a Thursday lunch ride.  I went east.

I have done this ride many times.  In the past, oh, five years, I routinely get shelled, and take the shortcut across the dirt.

Today was different.

As the eleven of us rolled into the San Pasqual Valley, I was in second position, coming into Ostrich Hill, where I am often squashed.  Thankfully, I was in front at the hill, so I got to set the pace.  I felt like I was dragging up the hill, but I was happy to be at the front, so that I could keep the pace manageable.  I pulled off just before the crest.  As I drifted to the back, I heard from Mr. Knickerbocker, "Nice pull."

"Nice pull."  This is a loaded term.  This can mean many things:

• I was smooth, and no one noticed any sudden accelerations or slow downs.
• I was hammering, they were barely hanging on, and they wanted to say "nice pull" as a justification as for how hard it was to hang on (I have done this many times)
• I was moving at a snail's pace, and they want to encourage me, and they had a lovely rest

I hoped it was #1, I knew it wasn't #2, and feared it was #3.

And so we continued.  I felt great.  "Amazing Grace" started running through my head.  I was not getting dropped.  And I was enjoying the ride.  Not feeling pinned at all.

I took the pull just before the turn onto Bandy.  Got back into the paceline, thinking about how this was good training for riding in a pack.  More songs.  Now inventing lyrics, like "Amazing Ride, How great the roads, this ride is really fun.  I know this ride will bring me joy, but You're the Holy One."  We start to roll up the final rollers to the climb.  I can feel that it's a little harder, and my heart rate is climbing with the roads.  I was at the front at the base of the climb, so I started climbing at a hard but doable pace.

But no one was coming around.  Weird.

Finally, the Irregular One came past, looking fairly fresh.  Plus some motorcycles.  It seemed like the same five motorcycles came past three times on Bandy Canyon.  Weird.  Anyway, I rounded the bend, and Mr. K came past.  Wait.  Whoa.  But, he should be blowing by me...maybe I am riding faster.

We get to the top, and I am third.  That's crazy.  I had a nice chat, and the other riders were very encouraging, saying how well I was riding.  I was riding well.  I've been training, so it makes sense.  And I rejoice in my strength and speed.  That said, I also know that all strength, and all weakness, is a gift from God.  I rejoice in that.

I pray that I can use this new strength to glorify Him all the more.  I look forward to seeing what He has in mind.

What a ride, what a view!

One would think I could write a ride report fairly shortly after a ride.

Nope.  It's been 9 days since my first of 2 (perhaps 3) solid self-abuse designed to prepare me for the Belgian Waffle Ride.  "But how," you may ask, "can you arrange to have that long to just go ride your bike?"  "Well," I say through a mouth stuffed with food, because I'm slightly rude and always hungry, "that's a fine question."

I would go on to explain that I planned to do a campout with my son for his first Boy Scout weekend.  Then I found out that I'm not supposed to hover.  Well, it's silly to stand there and do nothing.  Add to that, my wife planned an overnight for our daughter to have a friend over, and it didn't seem good for me to be at home.  Thus, I have a whole day to do something.  That something was pretty obvious.

I wanted to ride, and climb, and go on dirt.  And then Michael Marckx, CEO of Spy Optics, posted this on Strava.

Hmmm...

As lovely and hard as that looked, it needed more dirt.  Like tomato juice needs more fish.

So, I planned a ride to go up Nate Harrison Grade, and down East Grade and Black Canyon Road.

And, I found a partner in foolishness.  Mr Knickerbocker.

I picked him up at 7:40 and we drove up to North County Fair (like the Wild Animal Park, I will continue to use my old man grouchy ticket to call things by their old names) and parked at Kit Carson Park.

Bathroom break.

We packed our pockets, and hit the road.  We immediately picked up the pace, and hammered along at ~25 mph for the next 45 minutes.

Or not.  That would have been stupid.  We rode side by side, and  chatted.  We climbed Lake Wohlford, and stopped.

Bathroom break.

We looked for a drinking fountain, and found none.  Not good.  We were meeting another silly person, who was smart enough to park at the base of Nate Harrison, but combatted that wisdom by riding 33-21 singlespeed.  Lunacy.  Anyway, we hoped there would be water at the school where he was parked.

We sped along Woods Valley, and then toodled on Cole Grade, arriving at the school to meet SSilly.

Kind SSilly.  So kind.  He had bottled water, and shared it with us.  So, we topped off our bottles, and began Nate Harrison Grade.

Nate Harrison is sneaky.  And, according to least one site, the hardest climb in Southern California:



The ornery part was, it starts out shallow, and the last half mile isn't bad, but before that, there are long stretches of double-digit grades.  Meaning, miles.

I was ready.  I had replaced the rear derailleur on my road bike with an XTR mech, and put an 11-34 cassette on.  I had a compact up front, giving me a lowest gear of 34-34.  Dreamy.

The climb ensued, and Mr. Knickerbocker started rolling away.  I wanted to follow him, but I decided that holding back was the wiser call.  A little bit later, SSilly took off.  Standing.  Not that he had a real choice.

So, it was time to be by myself, for a very long time.  I started easy.  Taking salt tablets, eating regularly, and making sure to drink water at the rate of a bottle per hour.  This led to much prayer.  Lot's of "Thank you, Lord!"s.  Then, my attitude improved as the altitude increased.  If it flattened, I would cheerfully think, "Hey, this is easier!" and when it got stepper I would cheerfully think, "Hey, I am gaining altitude more quickly!"  I had been up Nate once before, and was overwhelmed with gnats.  This time I would see a few gnats, and laugh at the tiny turnout.  I wanted to be careful not to overextend myself.

It was actually enjoyable.

I came around a corner, through a pass, and I was in the shade.  Riding next to snow.  Awesome.  Then I saw Mr. Knickerbocker.  I figured he was waiting.  That was true, sorta.  He was waiting, but only because he conked out.  I rode with him to the top, where we found SSilly.  He was patiently waiting after completely owning the climb, relatively speaking.  We rode a bit farther, then found water, which was a good thing, because I had shared some of mine with Mr. K, who had run out.  He had gone deep into a sad alcove of his pain cave.

Bathroom break.

We continued on to Mother's and chatted with the kind folks of CCSD who had an aid station for an event.  We ate and drank a coke.

Bathroom break.

SSilly decided to descend South Grade, and mentioned he may climb Nate again.  Ha!  Funny man!  Turned out he did climb half of it again.

So, Mr. K and I began our descent of East Grade.  First of all, it was gorgeous.  Fantastic views, and lots of fun sweeping corners.  I did squarely hit an impressive pothole, and rode away unscathed.  Yay for 25 mm tires!

We made our way to Mesa Grande.  Mr. K climbed away from me.  Being that we still had a long way, I still took it easy.  Once we got on the flat section of Mesa Grande, we were greeted with more fantastic vistas and beautiful rolling roads.  Mr K said, "Stop for a moment, and notice how silent it is."  It was.

We found Black Canyon Road.  This is a "dirt" road, which is far easier than a dirt "road."  It had a nice crown to it, was quite wide, and was much smoother than East Grade.  So we rode it.  And it was FUN.  Beautiful.  Quiet.  Canyons and rocks and creeks and hills.  Quite possibly my favorite road in all of San Diego County.

At the bottom, things took a turn for the less awesome.

I started to feel some pain in my knee.  I could ride, but it was uncomfortable.  So, I sucked it up.  We rolled into Ramona, and stopped for another soda and snack.

Bathroom break.

We went looking for a dirt road, but it was a private road and had to double back.  Once we turned on Highland Valley, my knee really began to hurt.  Finally, I had to pull over.  I raised the saddle, and that helped.  Also, we were almost done, which helped as well.  By this time, I had packed Mr. K with salt and food, and he was ready to motor along.  But my knee protested.

So we limped along, and made it back to the van.

All said, it was hard.  But awesome.

It's all Belgian and Waffly!

I am now returning to blogging.  I am quite sure that no one else is affected by this right now.

However, I want to do this.  I am looking to write better, so I better write.

Also, to motivate me, I signed up for the Belgian Waffle Ride.  It's 140 miles with ample amounts of dirt riding.  And there's a time cutoff.  And I haven't ridden half that distance in the past five years.  So, why would I sign up to do this?

I'm really not sure.

That said, I paid my money, and my intense frugality requires me to be ready for this.  I signed up about a month ago, since then, I have discovered a few things:
* The dirt sections from last year are fairly tame.  I wasn't uncomfortable at all when I rode them on my road bike.
* Reality begets gearing changes.  I am now running a lowest gear of 34-34.  That's right, my cog and chainring are the same size.
* I'm in better shape now than I have been in a long time.  Perhaps ever.
* This will be hard.  I will treating it like a 90 mile warmup for a 50 mile ride.

There is one more major thing.  In fact, it is the most important item of all: this isn't about me.  If I race and go really, really fast, and yet am not able to shine my Light on those around me, it is a foolish waste of time.  So, I will be looking to love my neighbor as myself as I ride.  I will be praying and hoping for opportunities to be a blessing to others, and give God the glory.

By the way, I actually do know why I signed up.  To give Him glory, and to rely on Him in a way, physically, I don't believe I ever have before.

This will be memorable.