Tag Archives: Cycling

In the Moment

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I had a day of fun, camaraderie, speed and scenery at the Tour De Talbot this year. This was my third TDT, and it’s an area that I like to visit, so I signed up early.

Before the start of the Tour De Talbot.

I had a strange approach to the Tour De Talbot this year. The weather was threatening and thunderstorms were in the forecast. I was tempted to simply cancel my hotel room and stay home. Though it didn’t look good, and even the organizers were making plans in the event of thunderstorms, I decided not to let the potential for rain stop me and I went to Easton on Friday afternoon resigned to accept what the weather would send my way. I got my packet and shirt, found a nice spot for sushi (Sakura on Rte 50 West in Easton), and went to bed with a “wait and see” attitude.

Normally at such times I’m excited. That implies a kind of tension, which feels normal to me. I had no such tension that day. The forecast I looked up on Saturday morning looked hopeful. No thunderstorms forecast until late afternoon. It looked like the Tour would happen, and we would stay dry. I went to the ride start at the Easton Fire Hall feeling relaxed. I had given myself plenty of time to prepare, and I got ready to ride slowly and carefully. My friend Stephanie had a group of riders that I was welcome to join, and I gladly accepted. We would all meet in front of the Easton Fire Hall at 7:30. It turned out to be a large and friendly group.

Standing at the back of a crowded group photo!

We started out at a conversational pace, around 15 mph, and it was nice to talk to new people. I spent a lot of time at or near the front of the pack, and I was enjoying myself as we rolled through town and then northeast into the open expanse of Talbot County beyond Route 50 that most travelers miss. I have a good memory for routes, and I was confident in the road markers. I didn’t need to look at my GPS, even though I had downloaded the route.

It was extremely humid and my glasses were fogged, so I took them off. Since it was overcast I didn’t need them, and I decided to clean them at the first rest stop and wear them afterward. I had planned on riding the 40 mile distance, and many of the riders in the group were riding the metric. I decided to stay with the group on the metric course for the first half of the ride, then finish on the 40 mile route after the ferry from Oxford to Bellevue. It added 5 miles or so to my total, but I had done the same last year and it felt fine to me.

Some of the roads on that part of the course had been recently chip sealed. That means they added tar and fine gravel to the surface of the road, which traffic compacts over time. For cyclists with road tires (like myself) this presents the dual danger of sliding on the gravel and getting flats from it. You have to be very careful on that surface. I wanted to be on my gravel bike with its wide tires on those roads – and true to the nature of such surfaces there were several riders who had flat tires in those sections. I was lucky and made it through intact. We were all happy to get back on smooth pavement again.

We approached Trappe, a town east of Easton at route 50, and despite some concern in the group about route markings, I knew the way. I took the lead and pulled the group toward the first rest stop. I had to pick up the pace to get our group through a green light as we crossed Route 50, but we managed, and I made the correct turn for the first rest stop, which I promptly rode past. Thankfully my friends didn’t, so I turned back when they called and got a rest, some snacks, and some Gatorade for my water bottles.

We were less than 15 miles from the Oxford-Bellevue ferry, where we get a rest no matter what we do, so some of the team decided to pick up the pace. Naturally I picked up speed with enthusiasm. We didn’t have much wind to contend with, and with a wide shoulder and light traffic on the way to Oxford the team really got moving. I’m sure I was grinning like a madman as we set a brisk pace that I felt I could manage, knowing that I would get a rest at the ferry. Oxford is a pretty little town. I’ve stayed there on a vacation mini-break, and I appreciate its charm. It looked like they had a sports car rally there as we came in, and I watched the cars go by with interest. We cruised to the ferry dock just as the ferry came in, so we went aboard without stopping for drinks or food.

Waiting to board the Oxford-Bellevue ferry. I didn’t have time to get food or drinks before boarding.
On the Ferry. Crossing the Tred Avon river is part of the joy of the TDT.

From the ferry to the decision point between the 40 and 62 mile routes we were still moving well, and I was enjoying the speed. I was riding strong in a line of riders, doing my share. Coming off the ferry I knew that I had less than 15 miles to go to get my 40 miles, but I was being encouraged to go for the full metric. I knew that my training to this point wasn’t that impressive, and I felt that it was likely that I would begin to suffer a little in the final miles if I went the full 62 mile distance, so I stayed on my course. It was a close run thing though. I wanted to keep riding. I was feeling good at the final decision point and more miles sounded inviting.

A well earned post ride beer. I didn’t know what to expect before I started, but it was a great finish!

Practicality having won out, I rode the last 3 miles on my own. I rode with joy and power, and got back feeling very satisfied with my experience. I had spent that entire ride living in the moment. No plans or expectations. I just took in the sights as I rode along and rode like a good team member when I was needed. Since I wasn’t sure if there would even be a ride for me that day because of the weather, it was a small joy just getting a ride in. I may not be riding as many events now as I once did, but I still enjoy them and this is one event that I’ll continue to ride in the future.

Addition by Subtraction

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The rest stop on my C&O canal towpath ride. The Cinelli Nemo is a great ride.

I have had quite a few bicycles over the years. As the Spring of 2025 came in, I saw that I simply had too many of them. I thought I could let go of 3 of them, and to help me do that, I decided to get ANOTHER bike. My current road bike, a Wilier Superleggera, is a custom build that I absolutely love, and I must keep it. Two older road bikes and a very old hybrid bike could go. I would get a gravel bike to replace them. That way I exchanged 3 bikes for 1, while reducing clutter and helping me let go of the old bikes at the same time. I wanted a change, and riding off road would be perfect. There are plenty of places nearby to ride on gravel, and that would motivate me.

Since I had a general idea of what I wanted, I spoke to my friend Travis at Just Riding Along Bicycles in Laytonsville MD. He had put together the specification for my Wilier road bike, and I’ve been very happy with that custom build. I’ve received a lot of compliments on it. I decided to ask for another custom build, rather than buying a gravel bike off the floor of a random shop with a parts specification determined by the company whose brand name is printed on the down tube.

I wanted a gravel bike with a steel frame and Shimano GRX gearing, which was designed for gravel riding. Travis put together a parts specification for me, and I trusted his experience. I asked him to be creative. I ended up with a bike that feels great and rides like a dream. It’s a Cinelli Nemo Tig steel frame, Shimano GRX gearing and pedals, Thomson Seat Post, Bars and Stem, and Rolf Prima Hyalite wheels, and Vittoria T-50 40mm gravel tires. For a steel off road bike, it’s quite lightweight, built with Columbus Spirit tubing, and I think it’s beautiful to look at too. Once the frame and parts were ordered, it was just a matter of time until they all came in and Travis could assemble the bike. When the time came, I felt like a child on Christmas morning.

After a full check-out, bike fitting and bedding in the brakes, I got together with friends the following day and rode 26 miles on the C&O Canal towpath. It was a lot of fun! I felt I’d made the right decision.

Every time I ride my Cinelli, the bike feels better. I’m still a road biker, but now I have the option to ride on dirt and gravel trails, and I am starting to feel comfortable riding on new surfaces, as long as they’re not too technical.

At the towpath with the Cinelli Nemo. It feels better every time I ride it.

My bikes are unique. They’re not mass produced corporate machines you can find in a catalog or the floor of your standard shop. For example, one TREK Checkpoint ALR 4 is just like any other, and they’re common. My bikes are not like anyone else’s. Both frames are made by Italian companies that aren’t common in the US, and they stand out in a crowd of generic bikes.

Now I’m looking at more off-road adventures. It’s exciting to go new places and ride new terrain.

Breaking Free of Winter

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March is here, the forecast is looking slightly warmer, and the time has come to get outdoors again.

Spring cycling time has arrived, and my road bike is ready to go!

For me, the worst time of year is the winter. There are good things about it, but the days are short and cold and to be honest, working out indoors just doesn’t appeal to me. That sweet weekend when Daylight Savings Time comes in really gets me started. Daylight Savings Time is finally here, and I’m getting excited about getting outdoors. My bike is back from the shop for its yearly service and it’s time to get out and ride. I’ve already had some rides on my backup bike. I have some new things to try as well. I have a new kite design to refine, I have some new fishing spots to try as the weather warms, and I have recently found a meetup group for steel bicycle enthusiasts. When I get the chance, I want to ride with them after my bike has been serviced. The combination of daylight and new ideas has me feeling excited about the spring. I have another new idea that I’m excited about – a different kind of cycling adventure for me. I will write about that in a few weeks, and by then I expect to have many more springtime miles under my wheels, and other ideas to end those wintertime blues!

Turning the Page

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On September 28th, 2024 I rode my 17th Seagull Century. Barring some special circumstance, it will be my last century ride.

Enjoying a well earned beer after the 2024 Seagull Century

I began riding centuries at the 2006 Seagull Century at Salisbury University in Salisbury Maryland. Every year until now I’ve felt excited about the next year’s event. After 2023, I wasn’t entirely sure of my willingness to ride another. In the spring I felt better about it, and I signed up. However, through spring and summer and into the fall I realized that I had lost my taste for century training. Almost all of the friends who once rode that ride regularly no longer go to the event. I had given up riding other century rides, but this one was special. It was my favorite. I started there, and it was a challenge. Then it became social, and eventually it became a kind of personal tradition. I’ve ridden it 17 times over 19 years, with one not held because of hurricane Joachim and another because of the Covid 19 pandemic. I haven’t missed one in all that time, but I know now that for me, the time has come to turn the page and walk away. I have nothing to prove any more, and I don’t train as I once did. I have other things that I want to focus on, and while I still love to ride, I don’t need to take on huge efforts like a century to stay fit. Much as I loved riding them, and as many good memories as they’ve given me, I have begun to see riding centuries as a step too far for my cycling enjoyment. I want to ride for the soul rather than train for events. I’ll ride events, but I don’t want to suffer for them. I’m scaling back the distances I ride when I ride events now.

I have started to see rides from 30-40 miles as good days out, and metric centuries (62 miles) are still fun without being too hard on the body. The difference between 62 and 100 miles often depends on training and nutrition, but for the average person 62 miles is near the limit of both stored energy and energy easily gotten through eating and taking in electrolytes. You will feel tired (depending on how well trained you are) and you probably will feel fine the next day. 100 miles is a different animal. You may be trained well enough to shrug off a 100 mile ride without caring too much. There was a time when this was a good description of my cycling fitness. For the most part, 100 miles will test your legs to their limit. You will need to eat and drink during the ride to avoid the dreaded “bonk” where you run out of muscle nutrients and are forced to stop. It’s a test. There have been 4 times in the past when I’ve ridden “back to back” centuries, that is 100 miles on a Saturday and another 100 the next day. That was many years ago, and every time I was testing extreme exhaustion, and it took about a week to recover. Recovery from a century will typically take a day or two for the average rider with decent training. Age is also a factor, and needless to say, as I’m in my 60s and I’ve lost my training mojo, centuries are getting much tougher.

I knew going in that this Seagull would be my last, and I decided that it would be a success as long as I finished, and it wasn’t my slowest Seagull. I stuck to my personal traditions, and set out to make it a memorable ride. My steel Wilier Superleggera was ready to go. It seemed the perfect ride for the event. On a flat course and a warm and pleasant day like that Saturday, my Wilier is smooth and comfortable, and it suited my mood perfectly.

Almost ready to set out on the 2024 Seagull Century.

Starting out I was surprised at how FEW people were in the parking lot, in front of the gym, and particularly near the starting banner after going through the tunnel under Rte 13. So much has changed since I started riding this event! in past years, it would be crowded in these places. I started out about 7:15 in the morning and warmed up quickly. I was trying to hold a steady pace, but not necessarily a fast one. The point wasn’t to go fast, but to ride steady and finish with a time and pace that was at least averaging 16 mph. That would satisfy me at this point. I wasn’t expecting much, because my training wasn’t as good as it could have been. I had a lot of rides, but not a lot of long training rides. Still, I felt good and once I got warmed up, I was enjoying myself. The first two rest stops found me holding on to a faster pace than I expected. I knew that I would pay for that later, but holding on to a speed that was good when I was better trained was a hopeful thing. I had one point where a kid was drafting me for a couple of miles, and I asked him to pull through. I could have used a pull. “I’m just following you” he said. “I know!” I replied. He disappeared, being unwilling to give me a rest. Thanks, kid. Some people really don’t understand cycling etiquette. If you’re unwilling to return the favor, or you don’t have an agreement to be there, please don’t draft people!

On Assateague Island, 69 miles in. Getting there is a big part of the Seagull Century.

I reached Assateague Island as I began to feel fatigue. Had I stopped there I would have felt fine the next day. I could have bailed out then. Many riders apparently do. There are SAG wagons available. I ignored that possibility. I was going to finish the entire ride even if I had to crawl across the finish. I had been enjoying the ride so far, but I knew that I would have to slow down in the last 37 miles. I expected those to be difficult miles. I took a good rest before I set out again. By the time I reached Berlin on the way back I had begun to cramp up a little. Nothing major, but it was a concern. When I reached the final rest stop at mile 88, I needed a break, and I took a long one.

At the final rest stop, 88 miles in. Fatigued and cramping a bit, but enjoying the ride.

I knew that I had another 18 miles to go. I knew that I was beginning to cramp, so I did my best to stretch out, hydrate and fuel up for the final leg of the ride. It’s funny how you can suffer a little and still find it all so enjoyable. It was a good day to ride, and I was doing something I had enjoyed for years. Discomfort didn’t matter. The beer garden at the finish was calling to me, and I was listening. I got back out on the road.

The final leg was accentuated by leg cramps. Nothing severe, nothing to stop for, but I did find myself standing on the pedals to stretch from time to time. Yes, I could have trained better, but I knew I would finish. I took in the sights and smiled as familiar landmarks rolled by. I entered Salisbury with nobody nearby. I picked up the pace near the end, just because it felt right. I rode through the tunnel with a smile. I got to the finish line and pulled over feeling like I had nothing more in me. 106 miles, at 16.5 mph. Not great, but good enough. I went back to the car, stowed the bike, put on sensible footwear, and went back for pie and ice cream in the beer garden. Then a beer to celebrate. It was a good ending. I headed back to the hotel hot tub. I needed it. After the Seagull in 2022, I knew I wanted to come back. After 2023, I wasn’t sure. This year I am certain that this was my last century. I started riding centuries with a Seagull, and I ended with one. It was a perfect day.

I’m turning the page on century rides, but not cycling. Just rides over a metric century in length. We all have to grow, change and evolve as we age. It would take something special to get me to ride another century. This just feels right. I had a good century ride to end on, and I look forward to new and different challenges.

More Lines…

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I have been drawing more lines in my life.

Meet the Pileated Woodpecker. This one brings a little color into my day from time to time.
I see him from my window as I work.

Mid-summer already! I need to spend more quality time with my keyboard. The spring was eventful, and my time hasn’t been wasted. Bird watching is a kind of default, as shown by the interesting bird pictured above. He likes the tree outside my window. I look for birds when I ride as well, and it’s amazing how many different birds I see from the bike, quite apart from the handsome woodpecker that visits me regularly.

I’ve been adding new lines to my life this spring. Fishing lines! I’ve also started to make headway in coping with changes to my activities. The last 19 years of bicycling have been glorious, but many of the people I once counted on to ride with have retired and moved on, and my training has been on my own. I don’t feel the drive to train. I ride for the enjoyment of moving through the landscape by bike, enjoying what I see and feel as I go. I think that’s a natural development. I still ride 3 to 5 times a week, but the mileage has decreased and as I write this, in the heat of the summer, it’s been harder to grind out the same number of miles I once did. 20 years of serious riding doesn’t just go away overnight, but the social aspect of those past cycling seasons has changed, and I’m changing with the circumstances.

Riding on the Oxford-Bellevue ferry across the Tred Avon river during the Tour de Talbot in June.

I look at it as an evolution. Last year I found myself talking to an old friend who gave me advice for my first century ride 18 years ago. She doesn’t ride those events any more, but she still rides. That feels like my direction. I could sing the blues about aging, but that would be giving up. I will never stop moving, stretching and following my interests. I will simply adapt as I go. I have centuries to ride this year, but next year I may not enter any long events. I like events, but shorter distances and slower paces sound good to me now. All that means is that my riding will enter a new phase. Events will take a more relaxed tone. I doubt anyone will criticize me for it! I’ve ridden events this spring and they feel great – like old times. When I’m back to the familiar, I find myself thinking of past years in autumn when the events were over for the year and I felt strong. I called those cool weeks “riding for the soul”, and I defined it by a lack of training pressure and the pure enjoyment of the autumn scenery around me. The pressure was off, the days were enjoyable, and my soul was nourished. I think in the end, when I don’t have training pressure, this is what I want cycling to become. I want that line in my life to have a more relaxed tension, take a different course, and present itself with a different style. I like the sound of that. Perhaps I’ve been changing for quite a while now, and my consciousness is finally catching up to my circumstances.

When I was a boy, fishing was a way to find some quiet and peace and solitude, and it gave me time to think and experiences to enjoy. Lately I’ve come back to it. I’ve had all the fishing skills I’ve needed since childhood, and I’m connecting to that childhood quiet time again. Even if I catch nothing, I still feel good about fishing. My freshwater ultralight and light weight fishing gear won’t net me anything big, but it makes even small fish fun to catch.

A healthy bass caught from Lake Elkhorn in Columbia, MD. He was gently released.

My favorite fishing lure is the simple inline spinner. You can catch anything on one. Including the fish pictured above. They’re good for panfish, bass and trout, and while I have no idea exactly what a spinner is meant to simulate, they can be amazingly effective.

An assortment of inline spinners. My favorite fishing lure!

Fishing clears the mind. It requires focus, and it’s a simple pleasure that I’m happy to indulge in from time to time.

To make a long story endless, I’ve been active, healthy and happy, and I’ve been making a few changes. I look forward to exploring new and interesting lines of thought and activity.

Rethinking a Personal Tradition

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I’m the kind of person who likes to take on challenges, and I’m also the kind of person who creates traditions. I value consistency, but not when it comes at the expense of novelty. Last month I rode my 16th Seagull Century. When I first rode it, the Seagull was a challenge. I wanted to finish a century. Then I wanted to improve, then it became social, then it was something I did every year that had become traditional. This all happened because I was enjoying it and it helped motivate me. Previous entries in this blog show how much I have enjoyed this event.

On the Salisbury University Campus on Friday the 13th with the Salisbury Seagull.

In the last couple of years, I have begun to get less from the Seagull than I once did. I found that most of the familiar faces that I used to see there were absent. I have been riding it alone in recent years, pushing myself as an individual challenge to complete a goal. It occurred to me earlier this year that I just wasn’t getting as much out of this event as I put in. I decided to ride this year’s event and get all I could from the experience. Then I would take the time to evaluate my goals, and decide whether to continue to ride it every year.

The Seagull Century Information Desk

The 2023 Seagull would be a serious challenge. The forecast called for rain. This isn’t unusual, I’ve been rained on during the Seagull a few times. The Friday before was a glorious day, and the following Sunday was also nice. It just happened that the weather had stubbornly chosen that particular day to water us. As a result, I thought that there were fewer riders this year. The difference was pretty obvious. On a sunny day, this would have been a kind of rolling cycling festival. This year it was a more focused affair, with only the most committed riders on the course. There were a lot of us, but the sheer volume of 5000 or more riders wasn’t in evidence. I don’t know how many were riding this year, but I think two to three thousand would be a good guess.

The vendors inside Maggs Gym.

I arrived Friday and went to campus to pick up a shirt, and of course I walked around the gym to see what was on offer. In all the years I’ve been riding the Seagull, I have never bought a Seagull jersey. This year’s was a good design, so I purchased one and picked it up at the gym. On Saturday morning I parked in the usual place, then I went to the “High Carb Breakfast” at the SU dining hall. It’s better than the typical Continental breakfast in most hotels. Afterward I prepared carefully and left for the tunnel and the ride start.

Ready to ride.

I let myself bask in nostalgia as I entered the tunnel, given my uncertain feeling about my future participation in this event, and as I approached the start banner it was dry and beautiful. Could such a nice start really end badly? I set myself a strong pace, understanding that I didn’t have time to waste if there was a chance that I could avoid the rain. I felt good and rode steadily. I remembered the years when I had last been on those same roads and seen those sights. It was fun. The first stop was brief. I had been drinking well and I’d emptied a bottle and a half. I refilled, ate a banana and snacks and headed out again as the light gray morning skies filled in and darkened.

The first rest stop. No rain yet!

My pace was steady, and others tried to pick up my wheel as I rode on – and at least one started breathing hard, then dropped off suddenly. The lesson – ride the pace you’ve trained at. This may be a flat ride, and drafting can save you energy, but you have to know yourself. This is a century ride, not a race. There is no prize to be had. I was having a good time. My second stop was a little longer, but I still felt good. I headed out for the next leg to Assateague feeling hopeful and dry. There were clearly fewer riders – fewer to pass and even fewer passing. I followed the road marks, but it wasn’t really difficult. I was having a good time. I arrived at Assateague (mile 68 this year) feeling confident. It was a gray day with the odd raindrop, but it hadn’t amounted to a drizzle for me, so I took my time and looked around. I headed back feeling strong.

The Verrazano Bridge to Assateague Island,
The beach entrance on Assateague Island.

My luck held out for another 7 miles, then at about 75 miles in the rain began. Not a light rain, but a steady soaking rain with no respite. I was heading west into it, and there was no choice but to endure it. I still looked at those familiar roads and smiled, but the Seagull Century is known for raining on riders every few years and this was expected. In fact, looking back on past years, I’m surprised at how often it’s been dry for me. The final stop was at mile 87, Adkins Mill Park. I found a dry place under the picnic shelter. I hadn’t been drinking much, so I ate, drank and refilled bottles. I felt so wet that I should have been approaching dry from the other end. The last leg would be the shortest. I set out to hold my pace and endure the rain. The other riders also seemed resigned to being wet and determined to finish. I thought it was interesting to see so many smiles among them. I was hanging on to that strong pace I started with. The cold and wet weather was working against me, but I was still going well. This would be the fastest Seagull I had ridden in years. Coming in to Salisbury I felt strangely lighthearted. I was alone when I went through the tunnel. The cheers were wonderful, if slightly less in volume than on dry years. In all, I rode 105.5 miles at an average of 17.6 mph. Not bad for a 62 year old man.

Coming out of the tunnel in the rain toward the finish.
Celebrating the completion of my 16th Seagull Century.

I was wet cold and exhausted when I got off the bike. Thankfully Dianne found me as I walked over to the beer garden and handed me a Pumpkin Spice Latte. It was wonderful. I might have been feeling the edge of hypothermia, and getting out of the rain and drinking that latte felt wonderful. I celebrated with a post ride beer, but I didn’t hang around long afterward because I was still very wet and very cold, and I needed to warm up. The hotel hot tub revived me. I had a nice dinner with Dianne and came home the next day feeling satisfied.

With the benefit of a few weeks to think it over, I may ride some different events next year. I don’t want to completely give up on Seagull at this time. I booked a hotel room when the date for 2024 was announced. I won’t hesitate to register if someone asks me to ride with them. If I’m still feeling ambivalent about it, I can cancel the hotel and move on without regret. I ride enough to be ready in case I change my mind. There have been times when I was excited to sign up and excited as the Seagull approached, but I think that as people whom I once shared that excitement with stopped riding it, I started to get less out of the ride. I’m keeping my options open, and I won’t make a decision until next summer. This is the first time since I started riding the Seagull Century that I haven’t been sure that I’ll be riding it again the next year. I’m going to feel fine no matter what I decide though.

A New Event!

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The Chesapeake Cycling Club’s C3 Tri-County Classic

Waiting for the Ferry in Oxford, Maryland during the Tri-County Classic.

I enjoy riding events. I’ve literally ridden hundreds of them, and they’re good for motivation, fitness, training and simple cycling enjoyment. This year I registered for a newly created event called the Tri-County Classic. 65 miles on the Eastern Shore of the Chesapeake Bay in Maryland, which included an area I didn’t know well, and even had some short climbs. The Eastern Shore isn’t known for climbing, and while you can find them on some rides in the area, it’s mostly a place known for flat rides and headwinds. Yes, headwinds. The dreaded weather condition that a good friend calls the “Eastern Shore Mountains”. Conditions on this ride turned out to be a challenge, even without high winds, but on the whole, it was a good experience.

The ride started in Easton, a town bisected by Route 50, the major artery from the Chesapeake Bay Bridge to the ocean beaches of Maryland and Delaware. As a result it’s a place that people will often drive past but not experience. The ride included a choice of two courses, a 30 mile course and a 65 mile course. The short course looped around the river inlets to Oxford, taking a Ferry across the Tred Avon river, and then heading back to the start. The long course headed west into more rolling country before coming back to Easton and joining the other course to the ferry, then back to the start. The ferry ride alone makes this a fairly unique event.

The weather was a concern. A storm was moving up the coast, and the concern was getting caught in it. The ride was sold out, but I believe that many riders stayed home for fear of the weather. My colleague Ron and I had no such problem. I’ve always said that I don’t mind riding in the rain, but I won’t START riding in the rain. It’s a fine distinction, but it works for me. Since the rain was going to hold off until late morning, I brought a change of clothing for after the ride and headed for Easton. We were on the road by 8:00.

I stuffed a rain jacket in my jersey pocket and we set out, leaving Easton and entering the countryside. The roads were good and the scenery was pleasant. The rest stops were good. We were still dry upon leaving the second rest stop, but on the road into Oxford, the rain began. After a quick stop to put the jacket on, and a stop at the Highland Creamery in Oxford for a little time out of the rain. The organizers provided a ticket for a free ice cream, so we took advantage. We went to the ferry, standing under a tree while we waited. The ferry ride was fun, and the remainder of the ride was wet, as expected. It was still a good course, and had the day been dry, I’m sure more riders would have come and enjoyed the experience. This was a well planned event. I’m glad I was there for the first edition of it, and I plan to ride it again next year.

We stayed briefly to check out the post ride atmosphere, but we wanted to get a meal, so we reluctantly left for home with a stop at a favorite seafood restaurant along the way. After you get home from a ride in the rain it’s important to clean the bike and wheels thoroughly and re-lubricate the chain before you ride again, but I’m good about bike maintenance and I thought it was worth doing in any case. I had a satisfying ride, and it turned out to be the longest ride I’ve done so far this year. There will be other, longer rides for me, but this was a good event to start the year.

Returning to the Seagull Century in 2021

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The Seagull is a familiar event with many happy memories. But was I ready?

At the Seagull Century rest stop on Assateague Island, 10/9/2021. My bike got a lot of compliments!

I had been looking forward to riding the Seagull Century again since 2019, because the 2020 event was cancelled due to Covid-19. Since Covid remains a consideration, changes were promised for 2021 to make the event safer. For me, no virtual substitute could stand in for actually going there and riding with all the other riders. I have ridden the event for so many years that I wanted to ride it in person again regardless of the changes. There were quite a few differences, both obvious and subtle, not the least of which was a registration limit of 4000 riders. None of the changes concerned me, and even if it wasn’t exactly the same as I remembered, I felt good about riding it again. I was worried about how I would do. I was not sure that my training was good enough. I decided that my goal would be to ride faster than my slowest Seagull – which I thought would be easy enough.

The ride itself was very familiar. While Seagull is a flat century, and a very busy century, the Delmarva peninsula autumn scenery is part of the charm, as is going to Assateague Island. I started at a good pace, using a steady cadence and fighting against the wind as I headed east. Every familiar turn made me smile. I wasn’t sure that I could hold my pace this year – my training wasn’t as good as previous years, and the wind was challenging. However, I got to the first rest stop without feeling too tired. After fueling up and refilling my bottles I set out again, hoping that the winds wouldn’t wear me out too quickly, but they were pushing against me. When I got to the water stop in Newark, I immediately found a good spot to park my bike, and I did my best to make the stop as brief and effective as I could. The next leg to Assateague was very windy, and I had to power through stretches of it, but the familiar landmarks kept me focused, and my legs were still holding that strong cadence.

My anticipation grew as I approached the island. Over halfway done! Finally the bridge to Assateague came into view – and the only real climbing that day started. I had relatively little reason to shift gears before the bridge, but that climb was welcome! Over 60 miles done! Despite the mob scene at the stop, I did my best to get food and water quickly. I was satisfied with my pace. I was going much faster than I’d hoped. This stop is always a highlight on the Seagull Century. I did my best to savor the moment, and then I started back.

Now the wind was helping me, or at least not hindering me, and I got into a rhythm and started passing other riders. I wanted to finish strong and hold the pace I’d optimistically set at the start of the ride. I passed a lot of riders. I got through the town of Berlin at 70 miles hoping that I wouldn’t have to slow down too much. Every familiar turn raised my spirits and called up memories, and when I got to the final rest stop it wasn’t crowded. I took some time to rest and eat, thinking about the final leg. With less than 20 miles to go, I set out for Salisbury determined to finish strong. The day was getting brighter, and so was my mood. This old man was still riding strong! I didn’t let up until I reached the tunnel at the campus. I emerged to the wonderful sound of cheering from spectators and friends. I had ridden slightly faster than I had in 2019, averaging 17.5 mph. The beer garden was fabulous. Beer and friendship flowed as we cheered for the incoming riders. It felt wonderful, just as it had when I finished my first century at the Seagull in 2006. I haven’t missed a Seagull since.

A few final notes to share here: if I had a dollar for everyone who complimented my bike, it would have paid for the entire trip! It was nice to hear praise for my lugged steel bike. After the ride, the hotel hot tub felt like a little piece of heaven. Maybe I still have another Seagull or two left in me!

A Fitness and Confidence Test

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Am I making progress toward the fitness I need to ride centuries again?

Tony, Ron and I halfway through the Delaware Double Cross. It was an eventful ride but I needed it!

Over the past 16 years I’ve ridden most of the cycling events that are held within driving distance of the Washington DC area. After Covid 19 struck in early 2020 all of them were cancelled for that year. There are relatively few events that have returned for 2021. However, there are two centuries that I am signed up to ride this year. The problem is that my training has changed. In past years, I would train indoors over the winter, and start riding with friends in the early spring. I would even ride a century in May. It was difficult, but group rides were plentiful, and base miles were easy to maintain. Once I had an event or two done, I never questioned my fitness. Covid has interrupted my training cycle and taken away the group rides and events I have always used to measure my progress.

My longest ride of 2020 was 42 miles. I was in a training funk after all the events I’d wanted to ride were cancelled. I rode a lot last year, but they were many short rides. 2021 is different. I’ve started riding longer distances, mostly alone. I’ve gone over 45 miles a few times, and I’m riding over 100 miles a week. I think I have enough base miles to do what I want. What I need is to regain confidence in my training. I remember being worried before my first century. I was ready, but not sure what was ahead of me. Now, after 2020, I feel that way again. Before taking on my first century of 2021 in September, I want to regain the kind of confidence in my training that I had in 2019. What I needed was an event to test myself on. I found one that was ideal for me.

The Delaware Double Cross is a little longer than the metric century distance at 67 miles, and as the name suggests, it crosses the width of the state of Delaware twice. It also crosses into Maryland for many miles. I’ve ridden it many times. The White Clay Bicycle Club from Delaware holds it, and they do a very good job of running an event. It would be the perfect test of my training. I admit I was worried. This event would be my longest ride of the year. How would I feel?

I rode with two good friends, Ron and Tony. We started at 7:30 in the morning on a grey day from the high school in Smyrna, Delaware. After getting warmed up in the first 5 miles, I went to the front and started setting the pace. 18 miles into the ride we stopped at the fire station in Leipsic, DE. I had pulled at the front for that entire time, at a good pace. As we had a snack and refilled water bottles, we talked about taking it easier. My doubts were getting quieter.

About 20-25 miles in, it started to rain. Most cyclists aren’t fond of rain. I’m philosophical about it. If rain is possible, I seal my ID and my phone in plastic bags just to be ready for the worst. If it rains, I get wet. I won’t melt. I don’t like to start a ride when it’s raining though. That’s just inviting misery. However, the three of us soldiered on, and by the time we got back to the school at the halfway point, the rain had stopped and the sun came out. We dried off a little, got some snacks and water, and headed west for the second half of the ride.

Ron’s knee brace had slipped, and he was feeling his injuries. We slowed a little, but we were still moving well, and I started to feel hopeful. This was the way that events were supposed to feel. I had energy to go faster if I wanted to. When we reached the 50 mile mark and the rest stop at the Fire Station in Millington, Maryland my doubts were draining away. A big thunderstorm cell was passing to the east, and as we looked out at it, we thought it might stay ahead of us and with a little luck we could get back safe and dry. We were wrong. 55 miles in, the skies opened up. It was a mighty downpour, and we were soaked to the skin. It started to ease up after we had gone a few more miles. It stopped before we got to the finish, and the roads were starting to dry up before we got back to the school. We still felt good, and we were happy that it wasn’t raining while we were trying to get our bikes on the cars.

Celebrating our wet and wild Double Cross at the Crab Deck afterward.

After changing out of wet cycling clothes and having a beer to celebrate our ride, I had no more doubts. We had a late lunch at the Crab Deck on Kent Island, and despite the rain we all agreed that it was a good time. I may be aging and I may have lost my events in 2020, but I’m back. I felt good, and I could have gone faster than I did. When I got home I checked over, cleaned and lubricated my bike, because riding in the rain demands maintenance, and I need to keep it running smoothly. I have a lot to look forward to. If I keep up my rides, I’m going to be ready for centuries in September.

Storming of Thunder Ridge 2015

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Today’s ride: Storming of Thunder Ridge (SOTR) is a ride onto the Blue Ridge Parkway from Lynchburg VA.  This is a very challenging ride, the highlight of which is a 13 mile climb and a long descent, including a winding technical descent that is a challenge to any rider. Of all the rides I’ve done, I count this one among the most difficult. A 13 mile climb is a challenge for the body and mind alike. This is a ride for climbers. If you want to ride  SOTR, spend a couple of months training in the hills. Be prepared for a challenge. You will suffer. This can be a good thing.  However, a rider is rewarded by awe inspiring scenery on this ride. This is a ride to be proud of finishing! One thing this ride gives you is good mementos: this year we received a pint glass in addition to the usual shirt and optional jersey, which were excellent designs. There were snacks,  a vitamin sample, a tote bag, and even a sample of chain lubricant. Nobody goes home from SOTR empty handed!

The Experience: My ride up Thunder Ridge started with an innocent email from my friend Ron, who said “What do you think of this one?” with a link to SOTR.  Being a good friend and generally more enthusiastic than analytic, I agreed to sign up.  I was told that the climb averaged 6% and was a challenge. Okay.  I can ride a 6% climb. Later I was to discover that the word “average” would prove to be a baited hook to reel me in.
Before the ride we managed to get a day trip to the Skyline Drive in Front Royal, VA to do some practice climbs.  Skyline measures climbs in miles as well, and they tend to be steeper than 6% with distances up to 4 or 5 miles. My partners in crime for this adventure were Ron Tripp and Deb Reynolds.  Ron is a good friend and my partner in crime for many of my riding adventures. Deb is a cheerful woman who finds difficult rides and makes light of them. She has a gift for understatement.  I discovered that SOTR was her idea. I rode well on Skyline, and felt prepared for SOTR the following weekend.
The next week I started a new contract at work.  I picked up a kind of flu bug, possibly on the subway, and was sick as a dog all week.  By SOTR I was over the worst of it, but still recovering. This was not encouraging, but I’m a stubborn man. I headed off to Lynchburg.
The evening before the ride was also an adventure, navigating between two hotels and searching the backroads of rural Virginia in vain for a phantom Italian Restaurant for Deb.  We eventually found one for her, but the search was a comedy routine with 3 people acting as the “straight man” for a comedic GPS unit.
The morning of the ride we arrived in time, found parking, and got going a little before the group start in order to find some open road. The first 20 miles to the rest stop included some short punchy climbs to warm us up. I was feeling more drained than usual, but I was determined to see it through. Thunder Ridge was ahead of us, and the climb up the Blue Ridge Parkway was heavy on my mind.
The climb started at mile 25.  Remember when I mentioned “average grade”? the lower slopes were very easy – perhaps only 3 or 4 percent – which is not hard to climb. We were spinning at the bottom thinking that a 6 % grade wasn’t going to be too bad. The problem is that when you factor a mile of 3-4% grade into your calculation of “average”, it leaves room for quite a bit of 7 and 8% grades nearer the top, and I’d heard others talk of places where the grade went up to 11% near the top, and I believe them.
a 13 mile climb is a challenge to the mind as much as the body. When you’re riding uphill for two hours, you know that your legs will ache, but your mind has to keep your legs working, and the concentration required narrows your world to the pain and a small bubble of awareness of your surroundings. I’ve heard it called “the pain cave” and it is a very dark place.  By the top, I was deep in the pain cave, and I didn’t have much light to see by!
Despite this, there was a lot to see. The higher you get, the better the scenery around you. The Blue Ridge is a beautiful place, and the scenery was incredible, when I could look past the pain enough to appreciate it! There were other compensations. I was buzzed by butterflies all through the climb. They stuck in my memory of that climb – little sparks of grace and beauty flying past me while I toiled in the pain cave. Some had black wings, others had black forewings and blue back wings, and others were all yellow, but each one was a welcome distraction.
There is a rest stop halfway up the climb. Ron was climbing much better than I was, and he went ahead. It was clear by this time that being sick the week before was having it’s effect on me. Still, he was there at the stop to encourage me, and I took on needed calories and water. The rest of the climb was steeper and tougher. I wasn’t climbing fast by my estimation, but I was passing a lot of riders at this stretch of the climb. There were a lot of riders who stopped during the climb at the roadside – I wasn’t sure if I pitied them their pain or envied their rest, but I kept going. I just wanted to climb steadily.  I’m a large man as bike riders are usually measured, and pushing a big body uphill takes a lot of effort. I didn’t want to stop, because I’m stubborn. In the last 3 miles of the climb, the organizers planted two signs. The first read “You’re a climber now!” and I thought that nobody looking at me would ever guess I was a climber. The second read “Shut up, legs!” a catchphrase from bike racer Jens Voight; I thought of him and refocused.
There is a rest stop at the top of the climb – riders reach it hearing the volunteers cheering. You know that you’re done with the climb at that point, but not with the ride.  What follows is a long descent – I was thinking that I was traveling at 5 times the speed at which I climbed – and after that, there was a technical descent on a winding road to the valley below,  but the climbing wasn’t done. There remained some short, punchy climbs to conquer.  My energy and my legs were used up on Thunder Ridge however, and I started to fall back on the climbs. At 64 miles there is a stop, and you can either take the century course or the 77 mile ride back to the start. I was determined to do the century, but my partners urged me to shortcut it back. In the end, the decision was made by a bad cut in my front tire. I went back to the start with another PPTC friend, Matt Birnbaum.  The climbing wasn’t done – Matt had a GPS, and informed me that one climb we did was 15% – which is quite steep, and it was long enough to hurt again, but I rode in strong to the finish despite the pain and my worrisome tire. Later I would find out that I had a wheel issue too. I’m having them rebuilt.  I had made the right choice. I reached the finish feeling satisfied. I’d overcome a lot, and I’d made it up Thunder Ridge without stopping anywhere but the rest stops. Now I’m determined to ride it again next year, if only out of a stubborn masochistic need to prove that if I’m in my normal condition instead of recovering from illness, I can spend a little less time in the pain cave, and enjoy the ride even more!

Selections from my mental iPod during the ride: “One Night in Bangkok” by Murray Head, “West End Girls” by The Pet Shop Boys, and “If Venice is Sinking” by Spirit of the West.

Stats: 77.62 Miles ridden.  Now that I’m out of the pain cave, it feels like a triumph! I’ll come back next year and bring more friends with me!

Top_of_TR

At the Top of Thunder Ridge – ready to descend for a change!

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Deb Reynolds at the top – this was a happy place! (photo courtesy of Deb Reynolds)

Blue Ridge

Blue Ridge View – photo courtesy of Deb Reynolds.