Yo Dawg, I Herd You Like Mace, or Today's Ride 3/9/09

Route: 41.1 miles, Levi Jackson loop.

Weather: Partly cloudy, 67 degrees, 5 mph wind.

Performance: Average speed 14.4 mph, time 3:03:19. Average HR 148 bpm. Average power 116 watts, maximum power 732 watts. Work 1194 kJ.

Motionbased.com link: http://trail.motionbased.com/trail/activity/7765458

Comment: Good day for an easy early-season ride at an easy early-season pace. And for macing punk dogs. Yes, I was ready this time. The line was drawn in my head...if a given canine met two out of the following three criteria, he was getting a faceful:

1. Is he within 18 inches of a body part?
2. Is he large enough to reach my foot at the top of my pedal stroke?
3. Is he acting in an aggressive manner? (Many do, but after a while you just get this gut feeling which ones are having a good time and which ones may try something).

And of course nothing happened. Sort of anticlimactic. Mile after mile, house after house, the most faithful of family members were either preoccupied or otherwise invisible.

But about halfway through my ride I passed one house on a hill that never lets me down. It's home to a large, white, shaggy-haired dog that sort of looks like a St. Bernard, only slightly smaller. And one or two other tag-along mutts of similar aggressiveness.

Down they came like bats out of Hades.

And out came my trusty can of Halt!. The same can that, in over 3,000 miles, I had heretofore only fired once in anger. But the unfortunate event of early last month has put an end to those days, I'm afraid, forever.

In a split second, all three of my criteria were met. Out came a stream of ruddy-orange liquid fire in a beeline for two lucky dogs' headlights. And my aim was true. Each of them stopped dead in his tracks, blinking.

Just as the satisfaction in my newfound power was beginning to wane, I found myself approaching another notorious dog-house. This one has a particularly outgoing German Shepherd as head of the welcoming party...a dog with such a primeval hatred of bikes that, if he comes at you from the side, won't hesitate one bit in sacrificing his body to smack into your back wheel so hard that it makes you fishtail. This would be a true test of my defense mechanism.

And out he came in a full-on sprint, companion in tow. Spray in hand. Criteria met. Stream engaged.

What followed was not quite the result I had hoped for or had seen minutes earlier. They paused briefly, but were so crazed that the assault continued. Thankfully though, they live on a flat stretch of ground, so outrunning them isn't a problem. And outrun them I did.

So my battle plan is simple Pavlovian conditioning. I aim to be the instrument of implementation for this cold, hard equation:

bike + chase = pain

No matter how much fun it is, no matter how instinctual it is, no matter how much you want to impress that hott yellow pomeranian down the street. Chase a bike and you will hurt.

And maybe I need to go bear strength on that German Shepherd.

A dog tries to eat my leg, or Today's Ride 2/9/09

Route: 18.4 miles, West Corbin - reverse Collier Hill loop.

Weather: Mostly cloudy, 66 degrees, 10 mph wind.

Performance: average speed 13.5 mph, time 50:32. Average HR 147 bpm. Average power 125 watts, maximum power 850 watts. Work 380 kJ.

Motionbased.com link: http://trail.motionbased.com/trail/activity/7598316

Comment: With excellent weather, especially for this time of year, there was no way I could stay inside today. A great day for a leisurely ride. Heck, I even happened upon an unmarked state trooper as he pulled over a member of the "we own the road" Grays 4-Wheeler Gang. All was right with the world.

Sometimes I think about how a single decision we make can once and forever change everything that comes after. Sort of like a Choose Your Own Adventure book, only you can't go back and choose the other way if you don't like the outcome. It's kind of scary to think about how being 30 seconds earlier for work one day could mean that you are in the intersection at the exact time a semi comes plowing through. Or that deciding to go to Sav-a-Lot instead of Wal-Mart to buy your groceries one day means that you will run into a friend you hadn't seen in years and would otherwise never see again.

My bike rides are kind of like that. I usually have a route idea and mileage goal in mind before I set out, but sometimes I wing it. Like today. As this was only my second ride of the year, I decided to play it by ear and ride for as long as my early-season legs could take me.

About halfway through the ride, I decided the full-on Woodbine Loop was a bit much. But I still had enough in my tank that I didn't want to head straight home...a scenic return route would do. So I headed for the Collier Hill reverse.

I've put, over the past few years, a good 5000 miles on my bike. I've been chased by probably about that many dogs. And I'm happy to say that, except for a handful of instances, I've been able to outrun them. But, as this incident showed, man's best friend has the advantage over a cyclist climbing up a hill at 10 miles an hour.

So as my February legs were climbing, a dog came scampering my way from my right. A decent-sized mutt with a medium build but an ominously broad head. I pedaled on just as I have thousands of times before.

I looked down just as he made a definite grab for my foot.

Great. I pedaled harder and gave a couple of stern "hey"s as I sized him up. Unfortunately for me, he was tall enough to be able to reach my leg even if I kept it at the top of my pedal stroke. My only hope was that I would outrun him or he would give up.

But he wasn't done. All I could do was keep pedaling and wait for the next attack.

I felt something on my lower right leg that I can best describe as a cross between a tug and a pinch. Not violent -- the rest of my leg didn't react as if it was being pulled at all. Just a nip. More heys and more pedaling.

The dog was still trotting alongside. Still not ready to call it off. I began to weave toward him and away again, hoping to use my size to my advantage. Finally he receded behind me.

I glanced down at my leg just as my heart rate monitor screeched at me to calm down. I could see a dark area on the outside, not unlike a grease mark you would get on the inside of your leg from rubbing against the chain. I reached down to feel it. I brought my fingers back, hoping with some irrational hope that they would indeed be black with grease. They were wet with blood.

At this point I was pretty ticked off. I made a slow turn, ready to head back and give this guy's owner a piece of my mind. But with no owner in sight and Fido showing renewed agitation at my approach, I stopped. I would have to fight this battle another day.

A couple of hours later I was at the doctor's office getting my overdue tetanus booster. The dog is now tied up, and although his owner's exact whereabouts are (supposedly) unknown, the next-of-kin have assured me that they will keep an eye on him for the next couple of weeks. My neat little half-circle of tooth marks will probably be sore tomorrow.

My last severe dog run-in led to my buying a can of pepper spray. Maybe the legacy of this one will be the handlebar holster.



















The culprit in quarantine.

The aftermath (DISTURBING IMAGE WARNING)

8/6/08 Today's Ride -- or, a leaping dog makes a play for my hand and defcon 2 ensues

Route: 30.42 miles, West Knox and East Corbin loop.



Weather: Mostly cloudy, 88 degrees, 6 mph wind.



Performance: average speed 15.7 mph, time 1:56:11. Average HR 139 bpm. Average power 144 watts, maximum power 899 watts (new record). Work 999 kJ.



Motionbased.com link: http://trail.motionbased.com/trail/activity/6448995



Comment: This ride was notable for the fact that for only the second time ever, a dog made an effort to bite me somewhere other than my feet. The chilling details follow:

As I made my way south on 830 near its intersection with 1810, I spotted a pack of five or six dogs lounging in somebody's yard. I caught the attention of one and with a yap the chase was on. I slowed as they scattered across the road ahead of me, a medium-sized black and white boxer mix positioning himself directly in front of my bike, forcing me to come to a near stop. He sidestepped me as a started to pedal again and came alongside.

The next thing your humble narrator knows, this dog is stabilizing himself with a paw in my side, moving his open mouth toward my right hand. Yep, the sucker's airborne. My "hey"s, which up until that point had been at the level of a mild scolding, increased significantly in volume and tempo.

Again he was in the air. By this point I was gaining speed but was slightly miffed. I had just bought some new leather riding gloves and wasn't too thrilled that this guy was trying to get a taste. Plus, he was trying to bite me. So I reached into my back pocket for my can of Halt. I had bought it just for this purpose. I aimed, and for the first time ever, fired.

I had long dreamed of this moment. Teaching some sucka dog a lesson through his eyes. The satisfying yelp to follow, then no more worries the next time I chose this route. Liquid justice.

But out came a pathetic trickle. The image that will be forever stuck in my head from my first valiant defense of my person will be a rather surprised looking dog, five feet away, with a line of drops of bright orange liquid suspended in front of his face. Three feet away. No yelp, or reaction at all for that matter.

But by then I was gone.

But the pump is now primed, punks.

9/19/07 Today's Ride -- Power Up

Route: 28.48 miles, short Woodbine loop.

Weather: Sunny, 84 degrees, 4 mph wind.

Performance: average speed 16.6 mph, time 1:42:52. Average HR 149 bpm. Average power 166 watts, maximum power 771 watts. Work 1028 kJ.

Motionbased.com link: http://trail.motionbased.com/trail/activity/4001647

Comment: Dropout problems with my PowerTap hub fixed, I headed out with long-distance aspirations. My legs suggested otherwise. Not bad for my first ride in almost two weeks, though. Ambling around in downtown Corbin on the way back no doubt dropped my average speed significantly. Highway 6 in Woodbine is an excellent place for long, straight flats. There is also this place on the right by a junkyward where somebody has thrown a pair of shoes and a large piece of fabric into the phone wires.

8/4/07 Today's Ride -- Hot Hot Heat

Route: 26.91 miles, Levi Jackson loop.

Weather: Mostly sunny and hazy, 91 degrees, 4 mph wind.

Performance: average speed 15.7 mph, time 1:42:36. Average HR 142 bpm.

Motionbased.com link: http://trail.motionbased.com/trail/activity/3551730

Comment: My loyal readers (you know who you are) have no doubt been missing the trials and travails of my "Today's Ride" posts. Truth being told, I have been riding, albeit in a limited and boring way ever since I shredded something in my left knee doing Gran Tourismo last year. That nagging tight and tender sensation would creep up at some point during every ride since. After completing the Tour de London all hopped up on 4 Advil, I decided to give the ol' legs a rest. All was well until, while scaling the ridiculously vertical steps of the Great Wall in November, I felt the same sensation. That made me a bit worried. I eased back into riding gingerly in May, all being well on 7-milers. Then, when I tried to add a little distance (a whopping 10 miles), there was that sick old feeling again. Not wanting to miss the whole summer, I remembered that I had read somewhere to raise your seat should you encounter pain in the front of your knee. I did it, and lo, the tightness vanished. I've still been cautious.

So I've been rehabbing since then. Nothing exciting. Today I wanted to increase the distance some more, and chose my good old Levi Jackson loop as a good route. The only problem was it was dang hot. Not just warm, sticky hot. Dog days hot. You build up to riding in that kind of heat. You don't do it a couple of months after getting back on the bike.

Unfortunately I didn't consider that fact before I left. By mile 10 or so I was ready to go back. My legs were beginning to feel like rubber. My temporary lapse of insanity didn't block my foresight to bring a bottle of HEED for liquid refreshment, though. It kept me going.

Now I know you're hungry for another "redneck heckler sighting". I can't provide on this outing since everyone seemed to be uncharacteristically respectful to random strangers on bicycles this day. I will, however, share with you a summary of the Q & A I had with some guy who walked by while I was taking a breather on the bench in front of the Levi Jackson pool. He was fascinated by my ride. Some of his queries and observations included, verbatim:

• Did you get that at Wal-Mart?
• (Did) it (cost) more than a Schwinn?
• That thing ain't got no spokes!

and, finally,

• How much was that thing?

He was soon distracted by a girl in a bikini walking to her car and I made my getaway.

9/9/06 Today's Ride -- Tour de London

Route: 41.17 miles.

Weather: 77 degrees, mostly sunny, light wind.

Performance: average speed 18.1 mph, time 2:16:34. Average HR 162 bpm.

Motionbased.com link: http://trail.motionbased.com/trail/episode/view.mb?episodePk.pkValue=1339861

Comment: So it's time at last to put my intervals, sprints, and general all-purpose miles to the test. Want to see how it turned out?

Preparation: I ate a pre-race meal the night before of spaghetti with meat sauce and garlic bread. Good ol' banana puddin' was the last piece of my carb load. I slept ok, but probably didn't get in more than 8 hours thanks to waking up about 6:00 and not being able to completely fall back asleep. Breakfast was a couple of servings of oatmeal with chocolate milk. Wal-Mart was out of individual muffins or I would have tried one of those.

At the site: Traffic in downtown London was detoured around Main Street to allow for the race start and finish. It was nice to see that they had put up one of those big Tour de France-style inflatable arches. I got there about 10:00, right about the time the pros were heading out. There was no one at the (unmarked) registration area when I finally found it, so I did a bit of self-service and found my number (208) and release form myself. Then it was time to warm up and kill time until our group, the "citizens", was set to leave at 10:50. I watched as the motorcycle lead and support vehicle for each group headed out every 10 minutes, with riders behind -- category 3, women, masters, category 4 & 5. Then it was our turn. We lined up around the start to listen to the official's speech about staying to the right of the yellow line, giving right-of-way to any returning groups we might pass along the way thanks to the course's figure-8 layout, and the rolling start over the railroad tracks. He also told us about the hay bales that had been placed at the bottom of all the dangerous descents and in front of trees. Had been being the operative phrase. Someone had stolen them twice. As all of this was going on, I was sort of zoning out, as I had heard bits and pieces of all of this already before the other groups left, until suddenly came a radio message that caught us all by surprise: "the pros are on Main Street!" Calls for "let's go" gave way to "let's get out of the way." We moved to the sides of the road as, sure enough, a group of about 15 riders came flying up behind us. Ok...they're on their second lap through...we knew they would pass us somewhere on the course, but here? Now? They've been through once in...50 minutes? They're averaging 40 mph? Now I wasn't there, so I don't know, but there must have been a shortcut somewhere...

The race: So we were off. The first several miles were uneventful other than the fact that I realized that I should have reversed the positions of my water bottles, considering that my bottle of Perpetuem was harder to reach and replace than my seldom-used water bottle. As expected, I was able to overtake several riders on the ascent of the Dezarn Road hill. As I was chugging away, I looked back just as I heard a quick swoosh coming up from behind. A group of about 4 riders, with no hyberbole involved, just blew past me. Like they were on flat ground. I hope they were pros.

In spite of this humbling experience, I looked down to see that I was averaging 20 miles an hour so far. I never ride that fast for that long. So naturally my thought turned to my left knee and the tendinitis I had been feeling on most of my previous rides. No problems so far. I had prophylactically taken a couple of Motrin before I started.

So at 25 miles I'm still feeling fine. I can feel a little tightening in my knee but no pain. I sip my Perpetuem every 15 or so minutes and knock back a pack of gel. As I predicted, I'm slowly losing ground on flats and descents but gaining it on ascents. Unfortunately for me this course is about 79% flats and descents. I can't see the lead motorcycle anymore...as a matter of fact, I can't see anyone. I know there are some people behind me, but considering the fact that a couple of them had mountain bike handlebars and weren't, how can I say it, in the physical mold of a road cyclist, they're probably a non-factor by this point. I am presently dueling it out with about 3 guys within striking distance ahead. I check my average speed. I'm still doing a good 18 mph, which is good for me, so I'm satisfied. I know my ability. All I can do is keep it up and things will play out as they may.

At 30 miles it's time for Oakley Hill. I'm sure most riders were dreading it like a root canal but I looked forward to it as my final chance to make a big gain. Halfway up I take a satisfying trophy...passing a couple of club riders. Club riders with shaved legs. Those guys must be Cat 4 or 5. Meaning they had a 10-minute head start on me. No more pros zooming up, so my pride is intact as I summit.

Around 37 miles I finally catch up with a guy I've seen only in the distance the whole race. We talk for a bit with some self-deprecating musings about who could possibly still be behind us. I can tell he's just about spent, both by the way he's riding and his sighing countdown of miles to go. We reach the base of a small hill and he gives me a flagging "see you later" as he falls behind.

I still feel pretty good...this gives me optimism. My strategy is paying off. I pass another handful of tiring riders heading up the gradual incline on Sam Black Road. The good thing is that I still have enough energy to continue to accelerate and keep them behind me.

So I'm on 80, heading toward Main Street and the finish. Volunteers lining the roads tell me this in case I didn't already know, along with words of encouragement. Just like the Tour de France, only much fewer of them. And no guy dressed up like the devil running alongside.

As I make the right turn onto Main Street the police are moving barricades to re-open traffic. Not the best timing, but there aren't many cars yet and the ones around are moving carefully. So I cross under the big arch and the race ends.

I'm still not sure how I did. I have my own time, but I don't look for the official results to be available until Monday. The criterium is tomorrow, but it's not for me. Not my style!

To sum it up: Regardless of how I placed, I had a blast in my first race. The organization and execution was great...it felt nice (and a little unusual) to be catered to so much by having Main Street closed down for us and support vehicles to, if only for a few hours, make the cars defer to the bikes for once. The volunteers at all the major intersections to hold up traffic and direct our turns were invaluable.

I really think having "home-field advantage" helped me. I was familiar enough with the course to know where to save my legs and where to gun it. I rode harder and faster for longer than I have ever gone before. That's why I say that my placing is immaterial. This is a sport where easily quantifiable outcomes (time, in particular) delineate performance. And my time in this race was simply as good as my current physical conditioning can produce.

That brings me to the bigger picture...of course I wanted to win. I tried to win. This race has taught me that I can't just come into my first race and win it. I now have perspective on my rides that I didn't have before. I'm a recreational rider. I value distance, scenery, variety, and fun over speed and training. I know that to win this race next year would require me to ride as hard as I did today two or three times a week or more. Working a full-time job with 12-hour days just doesn't give me the time to dedicate to that. So I think I'll try to be the best recreational rider I can be. I'm happy with that.

8/28/06 Today's Ride -- Stay, cold hand of Azrael

Route: 25.11 miles, shortened Tour de London course.

Weather: mostly cloudy with sprinkles and rain developing, 77 degrees, 7 mph wind.

Performance: average speed 15.3 mph, time 1:38:13. Average HR 137 bpm.

Motionbased.com link: http://trail.motionbased.com/trail/episode/view.mb?episodePk.pkValue=1279059

Comment: With less than 2 weeks to go until the Tour de London, it's time to get down to the nitty gritty on this course. 30% chance of afternoon thunderstorms? Not enough to stop me. Besides, today I inaugurate my brand new insulated water bottle and my weapon against bonk: bone fide bike energy gels and drinks!

My optimism gave way to sluggish legs...nothing my HEED energy drink could't fix! I made myself take regular sips of my grownup Gatorade. The absence of simple sugars kept it from tasting syrupy sweet; the complex carbohydrates lent more of a bland, almost mediciney taste to it. Not bad, though. Like an orange creamsicle. So I was still waiting for the adrenaline surge.

Up the first big hill by Dezarn Road. No worries. But my legs still aren't kicking in. Time for my Hammer Gel! Raspberry, not bad. A little hard to get it all out of the pack, so I end up squeezing it bottom-up like a tube of toothpaste. I follow this dutifully with a good gulp of plain water from bottle #2. I'm not sure if it was the gel or the drink, but my stomach started to feel very settled...no hunger whatsoever.

Ok, legs, you can surge any time. Fire, fast-twitch fibers.

It's then that I start to notice most of the sky turning gray. The wind, which had been blowing steadily (it's always in your face, it seems) was starting to dissipate. This isn't looking too good. Still unable to shake the dull grip of lethargy, I did something I rarely do...I turned around.

As I'm riding back out to 638, I feel the dread sensation of tiny raindrops beginning to pelt me. Thankfully they let up a bit as I reach the turn back. I'm about 30 minutes out and don't want to ride it on slick roads with wet brakes.

Up ahead of me, a black tractor-trailer (sans trailer) is making its way down to the highway from a side road. I ride on past and it pulls out behind me, beginning its labored acceleration in my direction. Now in virtually all situations, I steadfastly maintain my position on the right-hand margin of the road. It's legal and it's as safe a position as a cyclist can be. But this situation is a little different: I'm on a relatively straight section of road, no one else is around, and this massive vehicle is coming up behind me. Maybe the polite thing to do would be for me, as the much more nimble party, to move over to the far left to let him pass me without having to change lanes. I take a look back -- he's still there.

Judging from the loudness of his engine, I make a mental fix on his position behind me and veer toward the left. Just as I make my move, I notice that the pitch of the engine is increasing rapidly and at the same time drawing closer. I cast a quick glance over my shoulder.

He's in the left lane too. Going a lot faster than I am. And he's maybe 15 feet back.

All I can do is cut back to the right. The scary thing is that at this point all I can do is look straight ahead, my back to him, and hope I can get out of his way fast enough.

He rumbles past. All of this probably doesn't take more than 5 seconds but seems to occur in slow motion. My life intact, I soldier on.

Lessons learned? Stay in your lane. Act like trucks do on the interstate...it's other people's job to get out of your way, not the other way around. And if you do change lanes, use hand signals.

Oh yeah, I got drenched on the way back.

8/18/06 Today's Ride -- A new nemesis

Route: 66.46 miles, Laurel Lake loop with 192 add-on, return via 312.

Weather: partly to mostly cloudy, 84 degrees, 5 mph wind.

Performance: average speed 14.8 mph, time 4:28:44. Average HR 135 bpm.

Motionbased.com link: http://trail.motionbased.com/trail/episode/view.mb?episodePk.pkValue=1224032

Comment: I traveled into terra incognita with my foray onto 192, a place I had never been even in a car. As i rode through, I happened upon a sign warning trucks to "use low gear, 9% grade next 0.8 miles." Fine with me, I'm going downhill. This hill ended at trail bottom, the Rockcastle River at Bee Rock. Then came the climb out. I can honestly say that Paint Hill has met its match. This hill is just as steep and longer to boot, going pretty much straight up forever.

The tale of the tape: 420 vertical feet gained over about 1.3 miles with an average grade of 10%. That's 32% higher, 44% longer, and 43% steeper than Paint Hill, former titleholder of Monster Hill.

Needless to say, surmounting this beast made my already grumpy legs the equivalent of warm Jello on a hot day. But something in my crazy head made me push on for a while toward Somerset. I made it about halfway there before the continuous onslaught of more hills told me it was time to turn around. Thankfully the ascent out of the river valley going back (all 0.8 miles at 9%) seemed tame compared to what I had been through.

As might be expected, I started to bonk in a major way before I even hit 312. I finished both of my Gatorade bottles, took several rest stops, and ate 3/4 of a Clif Bar to no avail. I think it's time for me to investigate carb gels and endurance drinks for my inevitable century. Either that or meditation.

Redneck heckler sighting: Pretty much nobody lives out there.

...

A footbridge going across the Rockcastle River, looking west.
Bee Rock does Shinto.










The Rockcastle River, looking north (upstream).










Mass grave for unsuccessful climbers.



?????????










(slightly disturbing, by the way)

8/13/06 Today's Ride -- Gran Tourismo

Route: 72.81 miles, to London via Pine Grove School Road route; then to Barbourville via 1189, 1803, and 11; then Woodbine route back to Corbin.

Weather: mostly to partly cloudy, 79 degrees, 10 mph wind.

Performance: average speed 15.6 mph, time 4:39:32. Average HR 136 bpm.

Motionbased.com link: http://trail.motionbased.com/trail/episode/view.mb?episodePk.pkValue=1203913

Comment: I hatched the idea last night to ride from London to Barbourville (on a route that doesn't involve 229, as I have no desire to die). The result was a new distance record and myself holding up surprisingly well. I planned on starting out early to avoid the heat but despite assurances by the weather forecast to the contrary the sky looked awfully gray and overcast for the first 30 or so miles. The ominous sky coupled with a brisk wind turned out to be assets, however, as they kept the temperature tolerable most of the way. The road was wet in several areas around London and it did sprinkle on me for about 10 seconds around the intersection of route 11 and 25E, but thankfully that was all it was. Unexplored territory on this ride included the Girdler, Cannon, and Heidrick areas of northwestern Knox County.

My stamina was there until about mile 50, as I rolled down route 11 to Barbourville. My legs started to weaken, and although I was somehow able to again ascend Paint Hill while seated, I was granny gearing it all the way. It reminded me of having to climb Oakley Hill after my Clay County debacle back in April, only this time I had 50 miles behind me when I started the climb. I had to bite the bullet and take a couple of raisins / Cliff Bar / Gatorade breaks. They gave me energy for a little while but little by little resulted in diminishing returns.

All in all, a good ride. I have a feeling that this route will be the template for my eventual (non-metric) century. Adding the Laurel Lake loop would certainly put it over the top. The cooler days of September and October await...

Redneck heckler sighting: Ding ding ding! On a ride this long, there just had to be!

• On the way up Paint Hill, a car with a couple of guys produced a low, slow "Heeeyyyyy...[inaudible], etc."
• Pointless blaring honk by a navy Jeep Grand Cherokee passing me on that long straightaway before you get to Woodbine. No other traffic around.
• And, honorable mention, although not really heckling: Two shirtless 15 year olds are walking the other way as I pass the Woodbine post office. As I ride by, one of them moves a couple of steps toward me and, waving his arm back to where I'm headed, says something. I don't hear any of it other than the word "dogs." No dogs to be seen.

Here is where I chose to grant my Rocinante her third and final break. No stray buckshot, thankfully.

August ride + record distance attempt = two bottler.

8/5/06 Today's Ride

Route: 41.39 miles, 2006 Tour de London course (as of today, anyway).

Weather: partly cloudy, 89 degrees, 3 mph wind.

Performance: average speed 15.9 mph, time 2:36:17. Average HR 146 bpm.

Motionbased.com link: http://trail.motionbased.com/trail/episode/view.mb?episodePk.pkValue=1155472

Comment: My second running of the (revised) Tour de London route. I paced myself the whole way due to the midday heat...the object of this run was more or less just to feel out the route as a whole. I rationed my Gatorade pretty well, although despite the ravenous thirst that develops when you ride a long way on a hot day, 80-degree Gatorade is pretty raunchy. I also got to experience a sinking feeling that I hadn't felt in quite a while. The heat had apparently made me so delirious when I rolled up to the church at the intersection of 586 and 638 that I forgot to unclip. I felt that sickly wobble that comes when you're stopped but you can't put your feet down, and promptly met the asphalt. Thankfully I quickly learned the art of the soft fall and distributed the force between my elbow and knee. So instead of the usual dime-sized knee skin souvenir for the road I only gave up a couple of minor abrasions. I'm not sure what hurt worse -- the fall or the 10 seconds I spent lying on the skillet that is unshaded black concrete in the summertime.

Despite my best intentions I started to fatigue a little at about 30 miles. I think it was the heat mostly, as my legs still felt ok but my heartrate wasn't coming down as quickly as it usually does. Then when I started to get back into town and made a turn I felt something rubbing in the back. I looked down and sure enough it was my back tire. It has been leaky for quite a while now, turning up flat the next day after I pump it up for a ride. But I have taken it on longer rides than this and haven't had it go flat. The good thing was it wasn't totally flat, just a little deflated. When I made it back to my car I checked it and it was just squishy.

Redneck heckler sighting: None, but I did have an interesting encounter yesterday. As I rolled up to the intersection of 25E and Commonwealth Avenue by Arby's, I stopped behind a girl in a white Cavalier. When she saw me behind her, she promptly reached over and rolled up her passenger's side window, then eyed me repeatedly until the light turned green. Intimidating, me.


















I noticed these helpful spray painted stencil directional arrows throughout the course. There must be 50 or more of them before, at, and after every turn.











Ahh, scenic London!

7/26/06 Today's Ride -- A return to the scene of the crime

Route: 51.88 miles, Barbourville - Woodbine loop.

Weather: partly cloudy, 87 degrees, 6 mph wind.

Performance: average speed 15.6 mph, time 3:24:38. Average HR 141 bpm.

Motionbased.com link: http://trail.motionbased.com/trail/episode/view.mb?episodePk.pkValue=1107357

Comment: My first return trip to Paint Hill since my April 19th canine encounter. I am still not dead from rabies, and I now carry my trusty Halt everywhere I ride. Of course the offenders were nowhere to be seen. The woman I talked to and her kids were hanging out in the front yard as I rode by, this time going the other way.

Paint Hill is not nearly as tough when you ride it going out of town; the numerous switchbacks keep it from getting overwhelmingly steep and I managed the whole ascent seated. I had previously ambled around downtown Barbourville (driving down my average speed, unfortunately). It was a nice diversion other than the fact that Main Street was being resurfaced so all I had was the ground-up base layer. Other than being a flat tire waiting to happen, it was like riding on cobblestones.

My seated ascent of Paint Hill, while a psychological trophy, signaled the end of my legs for the day. I had packed a Clif Bar as I always do on my longer rides. Unable to find a suitable place to stop for a break, I reached back and took it out of my back pocket. I ripped open a corner. But the plastic wrapper fooled me, and in the blink of an eye I was left holding an empty wrapper with my precious energy source quickly receding somewhere on the road behind. I will not turn your stomach, gentle reader, with the sordid details of what happened next, but suffice it to say that the uncommon masochism that makes people voluntarily ride a bike until their legs and lungs feel like molten fire can drive you to do some other rash things.

Redneck heckler sighting: Nil. Not one single auditory signal deriding my presence whatsoever. Rare. Maybe the summer heat has them all in a state of roasted malaise.

6/28/06 Today's Ride

Route: 51.19 miles, Laurel Lake loop, return via 312.

Weather: mostly cloudy, 78 degrees, 6 mph wind.

Performance: average speed 15 mph, time 3:24:29. Average HR 140 bpm.

Motionbased.com link: http://trail.motionbased.com/trail/episode/view.mb?episodePk.pkValue=973463

Comment: Started out sluggish and never got my legs. Took an inexplicable wrong turn onto Chestnut Road that ended up dead-ending on me. Good distance, though, even without the London add-on.

Redneck heckler sighting: Absolutely none today. Sorry.


















View of Laurel Lake Dam, via cameraphone.









The road ahead.

6/19/06 Today's Ride

Route: 31.27 miles, 2006 Tour de London route.

Weather: partly cloudy, 80 degrees, 9 mph wind.

Performance: average speed 17.5 mph, time 1:47:24. Average HR 146 bpm.

Motionbased.com link: http://trail.motionbased.com/trail/episode/view.mb?episodePk.pkValue=937541

Comment: My second (and first serious) attempt at the Tour de London course. Started out hard on the rolling terrain of the first 15 miles (averaged about 19.2 mph) until I inexplicably took a wrong turn on 472. By that point I was starting to feel a little rubber-legged and didn't have much left for the three big hills at the end. Chalk this one up as a learning experience in pacing.

Speaking of pace, the results of the Red River Gorge Battle on the Byway this past weekend served as some unanticipated motivation for me. Although the terrain for that race was much flatter than what I am used to (40.8 feet of ascent per 1 mile of distance for the 50-mile course vs. my average this year of 65.7 feet of ascent per mile), the winning speed was well over 20 mph average. This tells me that I need to work on my speed on the flats. Considering the Tour de London course is a relatively short 32 miles with 58.9 feet of ascent per mile and I have about 2 & 1/2 months to prepare, training up to sustaining the speed I had over the first half for the whole course shouldn't be too hard.

Redneck heckler sighting: As I was heading up the final hill after crossing the Parkway, a red pickup passed by me somewhat slowly. I noticed it continuing to amble leisurely up the hill. When it was about 100 yards ahead, the driver pokes his head out the window and yells at me, "I've got a rope in the back, want me to pull you up?" I ignored him as I pedaled on. He yelled something else inaudibly and drove on. Ok dude. Next time I'll give you the bike, I'll walk, and we'll see who gets to the top of the hill first.

4/24/06 Today's Ride

Route: 60.86 miles, London to Pittsburg to East Bernstadt to McWhorter to Fogertown to Burning Springs and back.

Weather: mostly cloudy, 75 degrees, 4 mph wind.

Performance: average speed 15 mph, time 4:00:37. Average HR 130 bpm.

Motionbased.com link: http://trail.motionbased.com/trail/episode/view.mb?episodePk.pkValue=659697

Comment: This one turned out much longer than I had planned. I started out with a bit of a westerly tilt to try to avoid the big hills at the beginning of the direct route across 80 and out 638. I ended up way out in Pittsburg somewhere. Mostly flat land, so not bad though. After trying to cross 30 a couple of times, I finally made my way through East Bernstadt and into familiar territory. I was soon in McWhorter and decided to take a southerly road with the intentions of looping to the north and back. But it was not to be. I was in boondock, Clay County. Miles from nowhere. With my odometer pushing 40, here I was with no food or water and starting to bonk severely. I looked in vain for a store with some kind, any kind, of cold liquid refreshment. I came closer than I ever have to stopping at a random house and prostrating myself before its owner, moaning, "I beseech thee, kind sir, please allow me but a swig of cool water, as balm for my burning tongue. Your kindness shall never be forgotten." But somehow I found another gear and crawled back to my car.

On the canine tip, I did have to turn around and use one of the same roads on my return, resulting in the distinct pleasure of getting chased by a very large doberman not once but twice. I saw him coming and turned on the afterburner. No dog can take me on level ground. It's those hills where I find trouble.

Update on my upcoming demise from rabies: I checked out my ankle on Saturday and was sad to see that what were previously simply red inflammed teeth marks were now slightly scabbed scratches. So I drove out to the scene of the crime during my lunch break. At first it looked like nobody was at home again but I stopped anyway. A woman was sunning herself in the back. I started by asking her if she had any dogs. The look on her face was one of ill-hidden guilt as she told me that they had one, a red one. When I told her why I was there and described to her my assailants, she was quick to say that the black dog belonged to nobody in particular and must have been "dropped off by somebody." "It's a pit bull, I think," she told me. I left her my name and phone number and asked her to please call if she noticed anything unusual. Other than a little 8-year old girl popping open the storm door and informing me to "get off my property" before quickly slamming it again, nothing else happened. The woman told me she had seen the dogs chasing somebody (me) and that the black one wasn't hers. End of story.

I called my doctor this morning asking if I should do anything about it. His assistant wrote down what had happened and said she would call me back after she talked to him. I told her that my main concern was rabies, and since I ride my bike so much this will probably happen again...a rabies vaccine as nothing but prophylaxis wouldn't be a bad idea. She called me back and told me he said to wash the area well, use Neosporin, and contact them if anything happened. I sort of chuckled when I heard that last part. Yeah, when I start foaming at the mouth, please knock me out so I don't feel a thing. And I'll remember the Humane Society in my will.

4/19/06 Today's Ride, or, Dogs 15, Me 0

Route: 49.02 miles, Ohler Road to Watch Road to Rossland to Barbourville to Woodbine.

Weather: partly cloudy, 76 degrees, 5 mph wind.

Performance: average speed 15.2 mph, time 3:12:58. Average HR 139.

Motionbased.com link: http://trail.motionbased.com/trail/episode/view.mb?episodePk.pkValue=636076

Comment: Paint Hill is special. A winding mile-long ascent with a 7% average grade, it's the most challenging hill I've been able to find in the area. And since getting there takes a 40+ mile loop, it's not every day that I get to ride it. Today I took advantage of the sparkling spring weather to head down there.

As I passed the base of the hill and started the haul up, my legs still had quite a bit of juice. I pushed seated and was feeling fine. Not quite halfway up I heard a shuffling over to my right. It soon turned into the familiar old scratching of claws on concrete and the excited yap-yapping of two dogs that see their two-wheeled prey, followed by the also familiar (and also fruitless) hey hey heys of the owner.

Not a big deal. I've been chased literally a thousand times by dogs. Nothing new.

What first drew my attention to these little guys was a sensation of teeth on my left foot.

This sucker is trying to bite me.

Out of all the aforementioned dogs that have chased me, only two have ever been mean enough (or maybe just had the opportunity) to lay teeth on me. The first, the dog across the street from my house. I solved that one by kicking her in the head one time. Now she no longer chases me. The second is a German Shepherd mix on Sam Parker Road that is almost tall enough to bite my hand if it wanted to. Wary of that one, me.

So I look down. These dogs could be twins, one black and one yellow. They're average-sized dogs of mixed breed with somewhat slender builds and long, tapered heads. One gets on my right and the other on my left.

Now it's the yellow one nibbling at my foot. A couple of pedal turns and he tries again. This time I feel his teeth pinch onto my sock and pull it away from my ankle slightly. This is not good. I'm jolted into the realization that these guys are for real.

The black dog makes another go at my shoe. I can feel his head thrash from side to side slightly when he feels like he has a grip.

I make my patented "what the heck, dude?" full body swivel back toward the house and the hey hey hey guy. A glance is all I can get off before I'm rudely redirected to the task at hand. One of the dogs has a good piece of my right sock now, thrashing a couple of times before my pedal stroke brings my foot back up out of his reach. This means that my other foot is down. The other one notices this, of course.

I'm now mentally running down my options. Option #1 is the tactic I used on the dog across the street, the kick. But kicking requires unclipping from the pedal, which slows you down, then clipping back in, which slows you down even more. And these dogs are bad enough now without my making them worse. Plus I'm on a hill. Forget it. Option #2 is something I've been using a lot lately that I read about in a cycling book or magazine somewhere: impersonate the dog's owner. So I intone "GET BACK" in my gruffest, most authoritarian baritone. Not working.

They seem to be getting into a frenzy. Oh yeah, I'm going up a steep hill, I remember. Exactly where I am on the hill is lost to me. My heart rate monitor buzzes me that I've exceeded my maximum heart rate. I don't really care.

The outer top section of my right sock is in tatters now. The yellow dog now had free access to my bare ankle. I swerve side to side, trying to make some room between them and me. But I can't do much without lessening my momentum, so I stop and just focus on getting up the hill. Few times do I actually want a car to come, but now would be great.

It's been probably half a mile now. I look down to see how I need to position my feet.

Could it be?

The punks are a couple of lengths back.

They're finally getting tired.

And just like that it's over. I glance over my shoulder and they've called it off.

I look down at my ripped sock and my ankle. Thankfully it looks fine. It feels fine. No blood. Once I get down into town I give it a closer look. Just some scraped skin and underlying redness; doesn't look like they broke the skin, but it was close.

A couple of hours later I made it back home. First thing I did was hop in the car and head back to that house. I'm going to have a talk with that hey hey hey guy.

Nobody's there. Storm door closed, no car in the carport. No thanks, but I'm not getting out and knocking.

I'll say it again: tie up your dogs people. Please.

3/8/06 Today's Ride

Route: 11.2 km sprint loop.

Weather: cloudy, mid 50s, wind ~10 mph.

Performance: average speed 25.6 kmph, time 26:32. Average HR 148.

Comment: Didn't push myself too hard today considering the point in the season, but still beat my last (late December) sprint time by almost a minute and a half. Running a good three minutes behind my summer peaks though. Must be that cool air density...

1/1/06 Today's Ride

Route: 50.5 km. Stewart Road to Echo Valley to Sam Parker Road to 1223 to Campground Road.

Weather: Partly cloudy, mid-50s, 10-15 mph wind.

Performance: average speed 23.5 kmph, time 2:08:49. Average HR 146.

Comment: Starting the new year off right with a solid ride considering the season. The weather was nice today except for the wind. Some early tachycardia (max 221) faded away by the time I reached the top of Queen Hill.

Last year's total distance: 2801.7 km / 1741.2 miles, roughly the distance from Corbin to Las Vegas. Easily bested last year's record of 1266.1, even with the two-month plus layoff between October and December.

10/15/05 Today's Ride

Route: 26.7 km. Campground Road to Oak Ridge Church Road to Ohler Road to Buffalo Branch to Echo Valley to Robinson Creek to Dorthae Road.

Weather: Mostly sunny, upper 60s, wind 10-15 mph.

Performance: average speed 25 kmph, time 1:04:03. Average HR 133.

Comment: I didn't push too hard today...didn't have too much energy after the layoff, all the overtime this week, and the meager lunches.

After barely avoiding another faceplant initiated a much bigger dog, I was beginning the push up the Robinson Creek hill when I heard a car coming up behind me. It was one of those nondescript early-80s model tank-cars, black with an equally aged motor. As I glanced to the side, I saw a youngish woman looking out at me with a bemused half-grin. As the car lumbered past with its hoarse drone, I saw the pale faces of three little kids swivel and stare blankly at me out the back window.

Out of the passenger's side comes a Gatorade bottle. It lands a couple of feet in front of me and I run over it. Thankfully, it was empty. I feel a slight hiccup as it passes under me.

Ok, I think. Do I know you? I instantly start to pedal harder, hoping in vain to catch up with the car, now advancing steadily away from me. But the good ol' Robinson Creek hill has physics on its side. I soldier up it steadily. When I reach level ground again, I start looking side to side at every driveway I pass. I've had drivers / passengers yell / throw / spit at me before but have never had the privilege of catching up with them later. They know this. That's why they do what they do when they do it.

But this time is different. Over to the right, in a smallish ersatz trailer park, sits a black tank-car. Kids are scurrying here and there as a couple of adults remove what appear to be grocery bags from the trunk. I brake and circle back around slowly, keeping my eyes on the car the whole time. The driveway is a good 400 feet off the main road, so I can't tell if it is THE car, but it definitely looks like it. I ride slowly back down the hill a way and turn back. A deliberate pace. Staring at the car. I want them to see me, to know that I see them, to know that what they thought was an anonymous prank was a real act against a real person. But there are kids around. I ride this route all the time. The last thing I need is a trailer park full of enemies. So I head on home.

9/4/05 Today's Ride

Route: 47.1 km. The big loop (Dorthae to Robinson Creek to Echo Valley to 830 to Sam Parker Road to Old 25E to downtown to Park Hill to Campground Road).

Weather: Mostly sunny, 80, light wind.

Performance: average speed 26.4 kmph, time 1:47:12. Average HR 135.

Comment: Almost exactly the same distance as yesterday but 2 & 1/2 minutes slower. HR was 5 beats per minute lower today too, so it matches. Something happened to me that hasn't happened to me in probably 20 years.

I had just started out, heading up Dorthae Road just past the church on a 1/4 mile stretch with about a 3% uphill grade. My speed was about 15 mph when a pack of dogs that has chased me 200 times started out after me again. I paid little attention to them until one of them did the old dog trick of placing his posterior about 1 inch in front of my front tire while running ahead. I would take a dog trying to bite me over this maneuver any day. So here I am trying to guess which way this mongrel (who incidentally looks like some sort of beagle / dachshund mix) is going to turn next. If he turns that way about 3 inches, he's going to be right under my whe-

[faceplant]

Next thing I know I'm sitting upright on the side of the road, ankles crossed, knees up. Little lights swim in my peripheral vision, followed by ghostly black trails. I notice a dull burning pain in my lips and the tip of my nose.

You're numb. Just give it a few seconds. That's when the pain starts.

Instinctively, I run my tongue across my front teeth. All there.

Whew.

I rub my face and check my fingers for blood. None.

I see the dogs' owner walking toward me, up the road. A car passes by slowly in the other lane. It's an older middle-aged guy in a convertible. He passed me a little while back.

"Are you ok?"

I nod and wave at him. A couple of other cars are right behind him. They file by slowly. I avoid eye contact.

By this time the owner is standing over me. He's a big guy, 65 or 70, smartly dressed in a pink dress shirt and white pants. He immediately begins apologizing profusely.

"Am I bleeding?" I ask him, holding my face up. I feel like a little kid showing his mom that he brushed his teeth.

"No" he says. He walks around behind me and says everything looks ok. "I've had it with that dog. I'm getting rid of him. He chases everybody who comes by here. Motorcycles, bikes, cars, everything."

"I've been chased by every dog in this county. That's nothing new. I ride by here all the time...you've probably seen me."

"Yeah, there's bikes by here all the time, and he chases them. He could get under one of these motorcycles' wheels and kick it right out from under somebody. I'm taking him to the dog pound as soon as I can. They can euthanize him."

"Well, you don't have to do that because of me. I'm fine."

"I'll take you to the emergency room if you need to go."

"No. I'm not bleeding, I'm ok. I'm tough." I look down at my hands. My right pinky finger is lacerated and bleeding. I'm still trying to figure out which body part bore the brunt of the fall.

"How's your bike?"

I pick up my bike and spin the wheels. They roll fine, no rubbing anywhere. My right brake hood is bent inward slightly from the impact.

"Fine I hope...I paid a pretty penny for this thing."

"I know, they can get expensive. I'm sorry about this."

"Don't worry about it, man," I tell him. "See ya."

I get on my bike and head off. I get a little concerned when I hear the grating sound that means I'm stuck in between gears. I hope I haven't bent my Ultegra rear derailleur.

The chain clicks back into place.

I finish my 30 miles and make it back home without any swelling or catastrophic equipment failure. We're tough, my bike and me.

Chain up your dogs, people.

Please.

6/18/05 Today's Ride

Route: 63.5 miles, Barbourville via Watch Road to Old 25 to Rossland to Highway 6, return via Highway 459 to Highway 6 to Woodbine to Stewart Road to American Greeting Road to Robinson Creek to Echo Valley to Rocky Branch.

Weather: partly cloudy, mid 70s, light wind.

Performance: average speed 16.1 mph, time 3:55:46. Average HR 141.

Comment: A new record with the metric century. I felt a little lethargic at first but somehow found another gear (and another, and another). Maybe it was the enchiladas poblanas I had the day before and the broccoli pasta and french fries for lunch that topped out my glycogen stores.

Paint Hill in Barbourville is a good technical hill for ascents...the descent (going into town) is great for cornering. 459 around Thomas Walker is a beautiful area. I had an average speed of 17 mph at 40 miles, but started to crash around mile 50...some hamstring stiffness and my heart rate, under good control all day, started to peep through more often. I've had a dull headache and fatigue all day; probably a good cue to rest.