Lookout Mountain: take one

Sunday, 03/18/2018

Today Salem and I have decided to go on a bike ride to train for our upcoming bikepacking trip to Glenwood Springs, which we're planning for July. We've done a few jaunts together here and there around town, but haven't done any serious climbing yet... so we are going to tackle Lookout Mountain. I found it on Strava; it is popular with local cyclists, so it seems like a pretty good route to try.

We go to REI in the morning to buy a bike rack for Salem's car, which he's been meaning to get for a while, and then (after stopping for some coffee and chai at Starbucks) we put it on his car and get our bikes all loaded up. Since we're training for a bikepacking trip, we both bring two rear panniers; I also have my handlebar bag. We don't fill the panniers completely up, but we do put a little bit of weight in them--bike locks, full water bottles, that kind of thing. We'll slowly increase the weight on future rides until we're training with all of our camping gear and everything that we'll be taking with us in July. I tell Salem that the Lookout Mountain route is pretty popular, so we'll probably be passed by a lot of people on fancy road bikes. My excuse for being slower than them will be that I'm carrying a lot of weight on my bike. Yep. Always blame your equipment when you can.

We park near Crown Hill Lake in Wheat Ridge, then head west on 26th until Simms, move over onto 32nd, and keep to 32nd into Golden. We pass by the Coors factory on our way into town, and there is something ominous about the industrial buildings looming over us. I kinda like it and its spooky tunnel. It smells really bad around back, though--like rotten fruit or something. When we get to Golden proper, we cut straight to 19th, skipping the roads with bike lanes in favor of a more direct route. The sun is hidden behind clouds--which is probably a good thing, because I didn't bring any sunscreen or anything. I've got arm warmers on, but I'm still in shorts; it's not too cold (...........yet). The climb itself starts without much ado over on the southwest side of town.

Salem stays right on my wheel for the first 2/3 or 3/4 or so of the climb. I set a pace of 5 or 6 mph, sucking periodically on a water bottle full of a homemade sports drink (water, honey, electrolyte salts, and grape juice--it is almost sickeningly sweet, but I need all the energy I can get). I've never gone up this climb before; I think it lasts for something like 4 or 5 miles, so I try to pace myself. It's not a race or anything, after all. The scenery all around us is breathtaking. There's still snow lingering in the shadows of red cliffs, brindle with evergreens. I hope the footage I'm taking with my helmet cam turns out all right.

The gradient is manageable, though it isn't easy. Strava says it averages about 5% over the course of the climb. It gets steeper when the turns switchback up the mountain, but evens out on the straightaways. We are passed by a few cyclists--all of them riding fancy road bikes, as I predicted. Specialized, Cervelo, Orbea. Someday I'll have a bike like that, too--but for now I'm happy with Bike Rothar. She might be slow, but she's dependable--and dang comfortable to boot, and that's more important to me, anyway.

At some point, a bull terrier comes running up to me out of nowhere and keeps trying to jump up on me. He's not being vicious, but I have to come to a stop a few times to avoid running over his feet. We don't see his owner anywhere, and can't figure out where he came from. He has a collar on, but no tags, no identification whatsoever. At some point, a motorcycle passes us, and the dog goes chasing after it, leaving us behind. There's a cliff on both sides of the road--rising above us to the right, and dropping below us to the left. The dog is right in the middle of traffic, galloping around blind corners... I think to myself that he's going to be hit by a car and killed. He certainly has no fear of cars, which have to slow and serve around him. He comes back after a while, unable to catch up with the motorcyclist, and chases after Salem's rear wheel. Fortunately, another quarter mile up the road or so, its owners drive past, spot him, and stow him safely in their car. It is a relief to see him rescued.

I stop once or twice on the way up--to blow my nose, flip my map, etc.--but I try not to linger too long. I want to make it to the top without any serious breaks. Salem passes me and stays ahead for the last 1/3 or 1/4 of the climb. Toward the top, I can tell that he's slowing down to let me catch up. I take advantage of his kindness and sprint (...if you can call it a sprint...) past him so that I can be the first one to the summit.

Salem and I pose for a selfie together at the summit. Salem is snazzy in orange; I am a dork with a Bike Depot jersey and crazy hair.

Once at the summit, we take the required selfies and settle down for a quick lunch by the Buffalo Bill museum. It's really cold and windy up here, so I bundle up in a rain jacket and rain pants. Salem busts out the fancy cycling jacket he splurged on yesterday at REI. (We go to REI a lot...) I've forgotten to bring my full-finger cycling gloves, but am saved by the pair of gloves I accidentally stole from Margy when I last visited her and Dad in Alaska (I'd left them in the pockets of my rain jacket without realizing it). Thanks, Margy--I promise I will return them next time I visit!

All in all, the ascent lasted somewhere between an hour and an hour and a half (I wasn't paying super close attention). The descent takes, oh, idk, like 15 minutes? It is super fun, though. The speed limit on that road is 20 mph... we go between 25 and 30 most of the way down. I film the whole descent, so we'll see how that turns out, too.

When we get back into Golden, I take my rain pants and rain jacket off--and instantly regret it, as a cold front kinda rolls in, but I carry on without because I really don't want to stop again. We ride the gently rolling hills back the way we came, and the sky spits rain and sleet at us. Thunder rumbles in the distance. A pretty significant headwind forms, too, making the rest of the ride feel tougher than it otherwise would be. There's a hill, near Simms and 26th, that seems more difficult to surmount, in that moment, than the entirety of Lookout Mountain... but we push through. Salem lingers behind me a bit, due to the headwind (his bike setup is somewhat less aerodynamic than mine), but not by much. When we make it back to his car, it's gotten really cold, and the sky in the distance is a foreboding gray-black. One of Salem's brothers calls us as we head home, making sure we're not on Lookout Mountain anymore. Apparently Golden is now in the middle of a hailstorm, and we only just missed it. How incredibly lucky...!

We part ways after Salem drops me off, but not before he acquires some cake and protein shakes at a grocery store. (Cake is a very important cycling staple.) The first thing I do when I get back inside is take a long, hot shower to warm up, and then dig into a bowl of vegetable pasta that I made this morning.

Today was a great day. I'm so glad I have a cycling buddy in Colorado now. In all the terrible winters and emotional turmoil, I'd forgotten how much I love this sport...

--

Today's stats

Distance: 27.6 mi
Time: ~2.5 hours
Avg speed: 10.8 mph
Max speed: 30.6 mph
Elevation gain: ~1880 ft

Post-cycling funk

So, what have I been up to since returning to Colorado from Kentucky so suddenly?

Not much.

It took me about two weeks to work up the energy to do anything besides watching Netflix/DVDs or faffing about on the internet. I think the medication I was taking made me feel weird and my body needed the time to just heal my infection and my contusion without cycling 50 - 70 mile days, y'know?

Ten days after the accident, I got my elbow X-rayed again to check for the kinds of fractures that show up again after swelling goes down, but, thankfully, nothing showed up. Soft tissue injury only. Still, I had to wear the splint for two weeks and the sling for three, and tho' my arm is mostly healed by now, if I use it normally all day it starts hurting before bedtime. Sigh.

I ultimately decided against joining the Handlebarbarians when they come thru Colorado--which is July 2nd, actually; we're going down to Pueblo to see them soon. Reasons? A big one is that I'm simply not ready to face traffic again for a little while. Even driving in a car frightens me now; I can't imagine being on a bicycle again. After taking my first spill on a bit of loose gravel (see the video in my previous post), I took every downhill after that slower than Jenn, even, because it was frightening. I just kept seeing my bicycle, in my head, flying out from under me and dropping me to the asphalt again. It just happens after you get hurt--you don't want to get hurt again. Same thing used to happen with skiing: I'd be fine, going fast, having fun, then I'd have a fall, and even if it wasn't that bad I'd still be slow all day, and not get up to speed again until my next trip. I know my injuries from this car accident weren't that bad... no broken bones, no head injuries, nothing serious or scary... but, still, I was hit by a car. I didn't slow down fast enough, I hit an obstacle, I spilled off my bike, and WHAM I felt a car slam into my shoulder and I felt the rubber of the tire hit my elbow and I got up and I just couldn't do it anymore. Now, if I tried to keep going, I know that every time a car passed me I would just have a flashback of falling down in front of one. Big trucks passing me in the Kansas wind? No. I need some time to build my strength and my courage back up before facing that, and if that makes me a coward, well then, that's what I am.

Another reason I'm not joining the trip again is a conflict of interest. I love my family and I love Ben and Dan too, and I had some genuinely good times on the 920 miles of trip that I managed to go on. Nevertheless, I had some really, really bad times as well. Bad times that go beyond mere physical exhaustion, and which I'm not sure anyone can properly understand, what with my celiac disease and personal demons and getting that skin infection in my arm and all the swelling that was in it and various aches and pains that go along with having the body I have. This trip started out as something I wanted to do because I had so much fun cycling in Ireland, and because cycling there saved me from a lot of funk and depression that I otherwise would have been wallowing in. I was genuinely excited for this TransAmerica thing. But, once the other five cyclists joined on, it wasn't my trip anymore. Slowly and surely a lot of my plans and ideas got outvoted--this, because of differing budgets; that, because of differing time schedules; the other, because of differing fitness levels; yet another because of differing personalities and interests. Maybe this is selfish, but it got to a point where I didn't feel like the trip I was on was a nice vacation anymore, because it wasn't MY vacation. It was work. It was someone else's project, someone else's adventure; someone else was calling the shots. Since I wasn't fully equipped on my own and didn't have my own set of maps, I had little choice but to follow along. Many times along the road I seriously considered breaking off and going at my own pace, but that lack of maps and lack of certain communal items (first aid, food, cooking supplies) kept me from being so drastic.

Yeah, we had some personality conflicts in the group. Conflicts that may have been resolved over time, but never got resolved because I had to come home before they could be. And I don't have the mental or emotional energy to face unresolved issues right now. I simply don't. I have a lot of emotions to work thru, old bad habits of laziness coming back, health problems that involves super low energy levels, muscle pains, awful digestion, nonstop headaches. I have a tendency toward both depression and sloth, and I'm trying to fight it back. I've started with some professional counseling. My relationship with my parents is a bit rocky at the moment and I feel isolated from old friends by so much distance and I hate living in Colorado Springs but every place I've lived that I liked living in is closed off to me now, for one reason or another.

I can't stop comparing that 920 miles to what I did in Ireland and the small trips I took in England. I'd give all 920 miles back to time if I could just ride the 25 miles from York to Rievaulx and back, in England, by myself, the way I did in August 2012. If I could re-live my Irish cycle trip in July 2012 I would do it every summer in the exact same way without changing a thing (except maybe bringing an effing mosquito net or a proper tent for the midges, yikes--oh, and without burning my leg in Doolin, haha). America has a lot of promise in certain areas, but you have to go thru a lot of crappy areas to see the promise, and that's another part of it, too. I wasn't super happy with the route, and tho' cycling across America is an impressive achievement, I feel like a shorter route, say along the west coast, along the east coast, or simply starting in Colorado thru to Oregon would end up being a nicer trek overall with less doldrums to suffer thru to get to the nice bits.

I'm trying to start job hunting and start working on creative projects that I'd been putting on a backburner for far to long, now that I'm back. I'm reconnecting with friends in Denver and I've decided I'm going to a convention in the first week of August so that I can wear an elaborate costume I commissioned for that very purpose two years ago. I've been cooking with dad (more on that in a later post, I think), and I went to the Pride Parade in Denver and the Ren Faire in Larkspur. I'd rather be spending my time doing these things right now. I want to get a job and get out of here and be on my own again and it's just too much to try and put all that on hold a second time to get out there on the bike for another month and a half.

So I haven't even taken my bike out of her box and put her back together again. Even if I wanted to go, I wouldn't be in the shape for it, not when the other Handlebarbarians have been cycling 100 mile days and the most exercise I've gotten is one 4 mile walk since I've been back.

I'm going to reconnect with the Handlebarbarians soon, just for a day, and I'll write about that I'm sure, and then I will bid them farewell as they continue on to dip their front wheels in the Pacific Ocean--the Handlebarbarians, minus one. I'm happy for them and that they're able to do this and that they're having fun and that no one else has been injured on the way. I'm also a little jealous, a little angry, and a lot sad about it. But there's no point in dwelling on the negative, is there? Especially not when they're doing such an adventurous, exciting, and difficult thing. I do wish them all the best.

That pretty much covers it, I suppose.

pax.

2nd UK trip, day three

I know I'm not posting these on time, or in order. I wrote the below on, like, the 14th of August. I am a Time Lady. Sorry. (If you have no idea what I meant by that--watch some Dr. Who.)

--

There are no silences here, in this hostel. The windows are open against the heat, and Manchester traffic rumbles constantly by underneath. Wailing sirens, streams of raucous revellers, impatient horns. The door to the room squeaks and clatters open. People come and go, following their own disparate schedules. Sleep is taken only in snatches and fits. The blue silicone in my ears is very imperfect insulation, but I make do with what I've got. Being dry and off the street is all I need.

I allow myself to sleep as long as I want and take a leisurely breakfast out of packets and tins downstairs. With tea of course: the lifeblood of my travelling. Then a train to Huddersfield, a nice conversation with a local lady who has an electric bike; green streaming by the windows, layered over sandblasted stone and aged brick. The hills are formidable and render electrics on a bike a necessity for all but the most hardy cyclists. But I've only five or six miles to Holmfirth from here, so they give me little pause as I set off into them.

The road twists around and among the hills, skirting thru small towns along the way. The smell of old forest permeates the air. Mildewed leaves and dirt and mossy trunks. Much of the way is sheltered under canopies of branches and leaves, natural tunnels with a peaceful darkness to them. The air is moist and sky overcast, but the atmosphere is that of natural, subtle beauty.

Holmfirth is small, set tumbling upon the road into a valley. I'm here because my Grandmamma said that I should come. I'm glad she did. She cannot come herself, so I'm her eyes and ears for now. I don't take as many pictures or video as I should like, but I do my best. Happy birthday, Grandmamma. I'll be seeing you very soon.

The ladies in the tourist office are imminently friendly, and gab and gab with me until we realise that the exhibition will close before I get there if I don't move out. I've already essentially missed the tour bus, so I buy a DVD that will take us on it later, and head down then to Compo's house. (If you don't know what I'm talking about, it's from a long-lived British show called Last of the Summer Wine, filmed in this little slice of Yorkshire for decades. Grandmamma is a big fan.) After the museum, shop, and tea in the Wrinkled Stocking tea room, it's off to find the series' iconic pub. I would stay for a bit of summer wine (haha) but I'm full and it's been raining off and on for a while, so I head back the way I came, into Huddersfield. The shut-up shops have transformed the town from bustling and busy to dreary and empty in the few hours I've been gone. The roadworks on the ring road don't help either. It smells like dust and wet concrete. The train comes late.

--

Fog blankets everything in whitish grey outside the train back into Manchester, and I am sitting on the floor in a train that had no seats for me to take. BK rests against a pile of cases next to me. I like how bicycles can travel on the trains here, free (as space permits). The entire country opens up to me that way.

It'll be York tomorrow, then. Not much else from this day or the next to communicate. My poetic mood seems to have waned. We'll see what's left of it in the coming days, I suppose.

Pax.

2nd UK trip, day one

With this dawn comes responsibility. Pre-booked tickets and interconnected plans, a fabric of preconceived direction unlike anything my past self has ever really given me before. The morning air is already bright with warmth. I cycle alongside vans and articulated trucks to the Dublin port, entering the industry-heavy realm of twisted coloured metal, stacks of aging shipping crates, petrol fumes. I am boarded onto the lower deck of the ferry with all the HGVs. There is a three-bicycle rack there by the gangway, where BK will wait patiently for me to return to her, bracing herself by one wheel against the rolling of the sea. I say goodbye and make my way upstairs.

The sea is smooth and clean as silver. I stare out over it, this ethereal reflection of the air. Three hours of sleep is hardly enough to keep me going past this point. Food first, then rest, curled up in a booth with my bag between my legs like some kind of canvas egg. I awaken when we approach the other shore. The water glitters violently as we forge ahead to dock, and I disembark after the biggest truck, a guppy swept up in the slipstream of a shark.

Two trains follow close after one another and I hardly register either one. Marshmallows and peanut butter and a ribbon of land unspooling rapidly behind. Ill-behaved children and ill-tempered parents. Fits of sleep stolen before muscles relax into the rattling panes.

--

Every city has its own unique character. It is etched into the street signs, spattered in graffiti, lurking in each grubby corner. To be understood it must be seen, smelled--felt, boiling off the concrete in the sweltering heat of a midsummer's day. Manchester is its own self. A wizened old man, hunching over his meagre river with a shifty smile.

Reflections of the road: bike kisses

Here's a problem all cyclists face that might not be well known. Oil stains on the calves, caused when your bicycle shifts forward when you're straddling it and the front chain rings rest against the leg. (Pictured above.) My right leg--the chain is on the right side of the bike--was usually covered in marks like this by the end of each day on the road, and sometimes my left leg was graced with one as well, if I was leaning against the bike or picking her up or something.

I saw a lot of Ring of Kerry cyclists sporting their own marks like this as well.

They need a lot of soap and vigourous scrubbing to remove, haha. But I see them as a badge of honour. Something unique that brands a cyclist a cyclist...

Random thought for yous to enjoy.

Pax.

gear checklist

Below is a detailed, thorough list of what I am bringing on my Irish cycle tour. This is as much for me to double check things as it is for anyone who might be curious:

bike specific/maintenance

- rear panniers
- hi-viz rain covers for panniers
- saddlebag and handlebar bag
- Kryptonite bike lock
- multi-tool
- 2 spare chain links
- tyre levers
- spare tube
- puncture repair kit
- frame-mounted pump
- cycle computer
- red flashing rear light
- removable white front light that doubles as a torch
- velcro reflective strips (to wear or put on panniers)

cooking and food

- lightweight cooking stove and gas canister (lasts roughly 4 hours)
- lighters
- one large pot for cooking
- one plastic cup
- two sporks
- 1 one-litre plastic foldable water bottle
- 2 frame-mounted water bottles
- gluten-free crackers
- sports drinks, tinned fish, metric ton of trail mixes (will grocery shop on the road as well)

sleep

- one fully waterproof bivouac bag
- one season 2 synthetic sleeping bag
- one sleeping bag liner that adds up to 10 degrees of warmth (just in case)
- one lightweight foam mat for insulation from the ground

clothing

- two waterproof bags to keep it all in
(on the bike)
- helmet
- 1 pair pearl izumi droptail bib shorts
- 3 shortsleeve base layers
- 2 cycling jerseys
- sports bra, socks
- buff multi-purpose kerchief thing
- merino arm warmers
- cycling gloves
- regular shoes (due to knee problems, will not be using clipless pedals)
- goretex waterproof rain jacket
(off the bike)
- underwear
- knee braces
- one pair of normal trousers
- swimming trunks (paired with bra or base layer for swimming)
- fleece vest
- thermal base layers for sleeping

electronics

- contourROAM camera and accessories
- sony camera
- cell phone
- spare cell phone
- chargers for all of the above
- all in a ziploc bag

toiletries/hygiene

- travel towel
- toothbrush and non-fluoride, swallowable toothpaste
- deodorant (baking soda base)
- face lotion for dry skin
- LUSH ultrabalm for saddle chafing
- moist toilet tissue
- cotton reusable pad and menstrual cup
- regular tissue packs
- sports sunscreen
- hand sanitizer
- chlorine dioxide water purification drops
- physio tape for my knees
- first aid kit, including

• lots and lots of panadol (tylenol)
• emergency ibuprofen and immodium
• lots and lots of plasters (band-aids)
• antiseptic wipes, bandages, dressings, etc
• emergency blanket
• rubber gloves
• compass
• knife
• safety pins, tweezers
• candles
• storm matches
• whistle
• first aid booklet and emergency contact numbers

other

- journal/sketchbook (in a ziploc bag)
- cycling Ireland book
- maps
- military compass
- money belt, passport, keys
- personal alarm
- Irish tin whistle
- lengths of multipurpose twine

cold turkey

I am having insomnia right now, so I just bought my train tickets for the beginning of my cycling journey. I will board the 7:20 train from Dublin Heuston station for Waterford, and change trains there for Carrick-on-Suir, where I will begin my cycle. While the first day of cycling from Dublin to Glendalough is supposed to be fantastic, the journey from Glendalough all the way to Carrick-on-Suir is reportedly pretty boring, so I've decided to cut the first 4 days of the 35 day tour and get started just past Waterford. I'll arrive around noon.

My plan is then to follow roughly the route laid out in the Irish Cycling Guide grand tour, penned by Brendan Walsh in 1991--it came highly recommended by Irish cyclists; here's hoping its not hopelessly outdated!

I will skip the Dingle peninsula, shaving 3 further days off the trip, and Achill island (I've already been, and camped, there!), saving another day. Hopefully I can have a rest day once a week from doing this in order to keep from injuring my weakened knees. I also have physio tape, a bike fitted to me, and will be forgoing my typical clipless pedals in favour of regular shoes that won't lock the knee in place and cause strain if even slightly maladjusted. (I will take plenty of time to find clipless pedals that work for me before cycling across America in 2013, however, as I prefer using them.)

According to the bike fit guy I saw today, who also fits people for custom orthotics, my knee problems are caused by walking, not cycling. I think he's right; my knees only HURT after a 10 day vacation from the bike that involved a lot of walking. Before, it was only strain from overuse. Unfortunately, this means that I will require more physio, and custom insoles for my shoes in the meantime, when I return to the U.S. (as I won't have time for that between now and then... arrrrgh).

Anyway, I'll cycle clockwise around Ireland and then go up thru Donegal and into Northern Ireland. I hope to make it as far as Belfast, then take it easy there for a day or two and take a train home from there.

I may not be able to keep up with an average of 40 miles a day--I may not make it as far as Belfast, or I may feel the need to take shortcuts via train or bus along the way. I'll listen to my body, and my knees, but will not let my weaknesses prevent me from dreaming big and living large.

And my biggest weakness right now? Internet addiction.

Recently I've been consistently staying up till 2 or 3 am faffing about on the internet, usually watching youtube videos or compulsively checking facebook and forums. While there are cool, inspiring people on youtube (if it weren't for wheezywaiter and the vlogbrothers I wouldn't be making videos or blogging nearly as often, for example)--I usually run out of cool people to watch really quickly and degenerate into watching random clips from the "recommended videos" sidebar, jumping from clip to clip looking for my next fix. I'm such a junkie it's giving me headaches, blurred vision--I haven't cleaned my kitchen in ages, I've stopped doing my pushups/situps routine, and my sleep schedule has imploded.

I intend to quit the internet cold turkey on this trip, except for email and blogging.

I might get on facebook once or twice a week, but if it starts to be a daily thing I'll uninstall the app or give it up completely.

Having email on my phone means you can, theoretically, reach me on the road if you would like, either by leaving a comment on my blog posts or emailing me directly (jameverywhere at gmail).

I will be able to post short blog entries via phone as well, and intend to do so every-other-daily at the least.

I think nervousness for the fact that I'm leaving on Monday is part of my insomnia. The lazy me wants to put it off, but I just paid for my tickets, so I can't. I'm in it to win it now.

The sun is rising outside. I'm going to try to sleep again.

Peace.

sickly jam

So, yeah. I'm sick today and it sucks.

I did the Tour of Louth yesterday though. The weather was absolute rubbish, which is especially sad because today is a BEAUTIFUL SUNNY DAY and it's like the universe hated us. We even cycled in a big circle but the wind was in our faces the WHOLE TIME like it KNEW where we were and wanted to spit at us...

I only made it on the 50 km course and didn't continue to the 100 km because I didn't want to die. However, I did that 50 km as fast as I could and am proud of myself for that, especially considering it was my first sportive and all.

I would have brought my camera or video camera to the event, but there was no point because of the rain and wind--you wouldn't have been able to see or hear anything anyway.

I'm not sick because I went cycling in the rain, by the way! First of all, it's an old wives' tale that wet/cold can make you catch a cold or flu. Second of all, I was already sick before the cycle. Just a bit of a masochist and did it anyway. My head was so stuffed up, I couldn't hear anyone out of my left ear... DX

Anyway. Have a click below to listen to my sickly rambling.

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Cycle4Life writeup

All right! I'm trying to start writing about cool things I did RIGHT AFTER doing them, rather than weeks or months later, so here's my little bit on the Cycle4Life!


EDIT - the error with picasa web albums was finally fix'd by google on 4 June, so I'm finally adding in the pictures below.

--

May 19th -- first annual D.I.D. Cycle4Life in Dunboyne, Co. Meath!

I woke up with JUST ENOUGH time to spare. I quickly got dressed, then made a breakfast of scrambled eggs and hemp protein powder. They were green! Unfortunately, I had no ham.

When I arrived in Dunboyne, it was SUPER COLD. I was wearing my horrendously mismatched cycling clear (see last picture below), and coated in a light layer of sweat from the 15 km cycle from Dublin. I had meant to take my windbreaker and a light balaclava/headband/kerchief/multi-purpose thing I'd bought specifically for cycling trips, but of course I forgot them at home. Sat on a bench and spent 30 minutes mentally kicking myself for not bringing them.

Kickoff was at 9:15. Place was packed with people gearing up for the cycle!

[picture depicting a road jam-packed with cyclists, the starting line consisting of a yellow arch in the distance]

I started off somewhere near the middle of the pack. I was alone, but didn't mind too much. I decided to just talk to everyone along the way and enjoy myself. The first person I struck up a conversation with turned out to be my cycling buddy for the rest of the day. His name was Paul.

[picture of a middle-aged dude in cycling gear, with sunglasses and bleached hair]

He was on a rickety-looking hybrid, and I thought at first that I was gonna outrun him fairly soon, but the guy moved at a much faster clip than I thought he would. I was faster than him on the uphill portions of the course, but he always caught up to me on the downhills. I do think he was more destroyed than I was at the end of the day, though, but considering the bike he was on he was doin' pretty well. (If you're readin' this, Paul, 'twas fun times.)

We averaged about 18 kph and talked about stuff 'n' things. He gets an automatic 20 degrees of awesome for thinking Captain Picard was the best Star Trek dude. (side note: yes, I measure awesome in degrees. There is a science behind this.)

As fer the cycle, everyone was talking about how the hill of Tara was gonna be SO HARD, and I'm used to cycling up Howth head so I was expecting something, like, Howth-sized or bigger. The hill of Tara was like half of Howth, haha. It was a bit steep toward the end, but I geared down to the granny ring in front and managed to cycle up it without stopping or having to stand up out of the saddle to grind. I did feel super fit and a bit smug when I passed a whole bunch of people walking their bikes up the hill. XD ...at the same time, I was kinda "cheating" 'cause my touring bike has lots of super low gears for towing trailers and stuff, but I wasn't weighed down by anything at the time. (There were lots of people grinding really huge gears the whole time, though; idk how they didn't wreck their knees doing that. If you're not getting at least 70-90 rpm on the bike you're not doin' yourself any favours, that's for sure.)

Here's a the view from the top of the hill:

[picture of green fields and trees stretching off into the distance, with some kind of stone tower in the middle. on the left side of the frame is a guy carrying a camera past me; I guess he was taking advantage of the scenery too]

We stopped for some bananas and some coffee at the top. Then I remembered that my little sony camera has video capabilities and asked Paul if I could make a video for you guys to showcase his cool accent. While he grew up in Ireland, his dad's British, so he's got like the perfect "received pronunciation" thing going on. Click below to watch:





The rest of the day wasn't all downhill, but it wasn't all uphill either. The sun even came out for a little while, and it was never cold as long as we were movin' on the bikes. The countryside of Meath was gorgeous. I love the smell of farms, I love the fields of cattle and sheep, the green of the grass, purple wildflowers, trees and hills and little creeks and bridges. Cycling through all that makes me super excited for my July cycle tour of Ireland!

I've decided that I actually like cycling up hills, too. I used to dread hills--I liked hiking trails but hated the uphill parts; workout machines like stairsteppers just seemed evil to me. Now, after doing Howth a few times, and even carting full panniers around Achill island, I like hills--I like the sense of accomplishment you get when you top the rise, y'know? And all I know is that I'd better get used to hills 'cause I'm gonna move back to Colorado before long, and them thar's MOUNTAINS...

Anyway, we spent a little longer at the food stops than the other people so we ended up finishing a bit later than them. Actually, toward the end we got LAPPED by some of the lads who were doing the 140 km cycle--yeah, they started an hour before us or something, but they were going TWICE AS FAR! And when they passed us they must have been going like 45 kph. I tried to keep up with them for a sprinting finish in the drops but lasted like 10 seconds. :(

We reached the finish and cycled through together, a real team. It was great. (Total time on the bikes: 3:40 over 67 km--not too bad really.) After, we stopped to pick up our goodie bags--I got a stuffed seal, some gummy bears, cheese crisps (which I promptly gave to Paul), some headphones, and a kids' movie? Um, ok. I'm on the lookout for a kid to pass the stuff along to--Aisling, don't you have like little nieces/nephews/cousins? lemme know...

After that Paul and I parted ways and I made a little video (click below) that makes no sense out of the context of this blog post. WARNING. I swear in this, because sometimes I forget that "shit" is actually a swear. I'm becoming Irish apparently.



(from description of video on youtube: Anyway, yeah, the maths on this video don't seem quite right, do they? 67 km + 15 km doesn't equal 100 km, Jam!

no. but it's more like 17 km to my home, and I cycled out there in the morning too, so 17 + 67 + 17 = 101. There. Pwned.)


And that was that! I felt pretty good at that point, like I could keep going all day, but about halfway through the 15 km cycle home I realised that I was actually knackered and had hit my limit. Made it home at like half three or something. I laid in bed for the rest of the day watching youtube, iirc. I even decided I'd earned the right to eat dinner in bed so now I have buckwheat cracker crumbs floating around in the sheets, haha...

--

So. I want to thank my generous and amazing sponsors for their contributions to the Temple Street Children's Hospital on my behalf. All in all, I raised 325 euro--FOUR TIMES my original goal of 80! I couldn't have done it without you guys; you really are the best. I was super excited and proud to be able to hand that money over to this wonderful charity. Too bad I won't be around for the same thing next year--I'd do the 140 km route that time, and maybe keep up with the crazy lycra lads with the aerodynamic helmets and carbon bikes this time! (or not)

Finally, here is a picture of my getup on the day in question:

[picture depicting me wearing the blue and white Cycle4Life jersey, with orange bib shorts, purple tights, black arm warmers, and red gloves--nothing in the ensemble matching whatsoever. Also, I've got my sleek new surly long haul trucker bike! OMG I LOVE HER.]





p.s. -- Keep on checking back here for more posts and updates. Below I said my goal would be two posts a month, but I want to post once or twice a week if possible. If I don't, feel free to hound me in the comments until I do!

Cycle4Life -- SUCCESS

Hey all,

 just a note to say that I'm back from my Cycle4life, and I had a great time. Total distance was 100 km: approx. 70 km loop starting and ending in Dunboyne, Co. Meath, plus 15 km from my house to Dunboyne and back. I'll write a bit more about it later and throw some photos up when I'm not so knackered and ready for a nap.

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ALL THE DONATIONS. I ended up with 365 euro in the end, which I was so proud to be able to hand over to the Temple Street Children's Hospital. You guys are awesome.

Peace.

Cycle4Life -- please sponsor me!

Hello, all readers of this blog, who may very well be only Mama!

I've decided to enter a charity cycling event on 19 May 2012. Please click here to visit my donations page, and make a donation to help sponsor my trek! All the details of the charity it's for can be found there.

The minimum donation is only 2 euro, and my goal is the 80 euro event fee. I technically have until 30 April to raise the fee, upon which time I have to supply the rest of it myself--but you can donate to the cause even up to a month after the event, according to the mycharity.ie website. There's no excuse for procrastination, however! ;P

Any and all who make a donation, if you email me your address (jamie.e.blair at what else but gmail) I will send you a postcard from Ireland!

I greatly appreciate the help. The course I'm taking will be ~70 km, or ~44 miles. I've comfortably done 40 km journeys before, so I know I'll be ready for this by the time it rolls around. I'll be wearing my club jersey for the event as well (leisurecycling.ie).

My knees aren't perfect yet, but I have a new bike that actually fits me. Rothar (pronounced ruh-hur) was way too big--so hello, Bike (pronounced bee-kay)! My surly long haul trucker. She's beautiful ;_; I also have a professional bike fit on the 3rd of May, so I shouldn't be having any biomechanical problems anymore after that.

Don't... don't ask me how much I spent on her DX

so yeah, think of the childrens and send me some money for the Temple Street Children's hospital! It's kind of close to my heart since it's right in my neighbourhood here in Dublin.

peace.