BTT ITT Race Report

Last weekend, I participated in my very first Indoor Time Trial.  Two years ago, I didn't sign up cause I was nervous about it.  During the ITT, your bike is hooked up to a computer that projects where you are relative to the others in your heat.  Somehow it's just so much more exposed than racing.  Last year I signed up, but I got sick a few days beforehand and couldn't race. 

But this year, I finally did it.  Here's how the ITT works for the uninitiated.  We set up 16 trainers that are computerized and hooked up to screens that show you where you are relative to the other competitors in your heat.  Like this:

The course is the last 6 miles of the Boston Marathon, but in reverse.  So it's mostly uphill.

Coach Alan had planned a nice consistent power to hold for the first 5 miles, then continually increase during the last mile.  I started out in the wrong gear.  Typically, when I do trainer rides, I ride in my small chainring (the easier gear in the front).  Usually, when I ride on the road I ride in the big chain, but on the trainer, I can get the heart rate, cadence and power right in the small one.  Unfortunately, I started in the small chain and had to switch it up to the big chain shortly thereafter.

From there though, it got good, and the miles peeled off.  I wasn't in the lead pack, so the announcer was never on me.  I just got to get in my groove and go.  At mile 5, I started picking up the power a bit.  And then it was over.  I felt like I had a little too much left in the tank.  But always better to have too much left than not enough.  Can't wait for the next one.

Hot new ride

Just a quick update. I bought this bike yesterday off of Craigslist. It's a 1984 Centurion Dave Scott Ironman Expert bike. And it's salmon-colored with yellow tape, steel frame, 12 speed with shifters on the downtube. It's got a few dings, but it's been pretty well-maintained (new cables, new Shimano 105 gears, new brakes, new tires) and hasn't seen many miles in the last few years. With the Boston weather finally cooperating, this will be my traffic-beater bike for my commute to work, and it will allow me to try my hand at doing my own maintenance, if I'm brave.

I love the idea that this was a pretty serious road bike in its day: it has a sticker that proudly claims it was designed in the USA, but made in JAPAN! It may have even done a triathlon in a former life.

And extra bonus: I had a little time to spare before my track workout last night, so I practiced my mounting and dismounting. And I did not fall, not even once. I'm still not totally confident, and the bike got a little wobbly there at times, but it's a start.

Signs of spring

I'm calling it. After all those hours shoveling snow this winter, we're done with snow for the season (and we won't make a full Shaq's worth). I'm ok with that though. It's still cold in Boston, but it's definitely springy. Even those snow banks that seemed they would become permanent structures have receded and disappeared from Cambridge and only left a few shady remainders out in Concord.

I know this because last weekend, I went on my first ride of the season. We took the short River Runs Through It CRW loop, which is 28 miles. I probably rode this loop a dozen times last summer and knew it by heart. This time around, I realized the turns that stood out were the ones I had missed in the past. Landmarks played tricks on me, everything seemed familiar, but nothing was certain. Here's a house with a stone foundation that I recognize, or an out-of-place modern boxy house from the 60s, or a tiger striped mailbox, or one hanging from a tree. They all start to blur together. Was that on this loop or a different one? We only had to consult the cue sheet once to confirm a turn. Despite that, it was bucolic and bordered on a Disney cartoon: flowers bursting forth, squirrels running along side, birds singing and playing in the trees above our heads. Maybe it's just the excitement of feeling the cold air rush past or the lean and lurch of the bike as I increase the pressure, but this ride was perfect.

Another sure sign of spring, the Boston Marathon takes place this weekend. I'm volunteering once again. This year though we've been upgraded to "Elite Fluid Distribution" at 10K. Thus far though it seems like our responsibilities are to (1) match the labelled bottle with the label on the table (and not to worry to much about it because some one will come by to fix our mistakes) and (2) stay out of the way of the elites. Will let you know how well we achieve these two goals.

Finally, not at all related to spring, I just finished reading my friend Erin Tocknell's book Confederate Streets. It's a fantastic read (and not just because there's a brief mention of my coxing in the final chapter). Erin's attention to detail astounding. Reading her book, seeing Nashville and Pittsburgh through her eyes and experiences made me realize how little of the day to day I appreciate and remember.

Cycling community

Last weekend we went on a surprise camping trip to Vermont. I had planned a long ride for Saturday. We were right off the main highway, so I could have taken that out and back, but the cars go rather fast, and there's not that much shoulder. I used my phone to map out a route, and create a cue sheet of smaller country roads. With phone in pocket, off, I went.

About 2 miles into the ride, I see another cyclist pull out ahead of me. I catch up to him and ask him what road we're on (Vermonters aren't all that keen on street signs), turns out I missed my turn, but I explain, I was just out to do a 25 or so mile ride, and he invited me to tag along with him. I love that. Show up in a random place, meet up with a like-minded (and like-speed) cyclist and hang out for a few hours. What a great community of riders. Of course the flip side to this, is that I just enthusiastically followed a complete stranger into the back country of Vermont, but let's keep thinking positive.

I've been doing a lot of thinking recently about the animosity between motorists and cyclists (and pedestrians too, but that's a different matter). I've read a couple of different articles on it. Blaming the cars for putting cyclists in danger, blaming the cyclists for not following the rules, blaming the rules for being unrealistic, blaming roads in Boston for being designed by cows, not for cars or bikes. I've been trying to figure out where I come out with all these.

Here's what I think. I hate riding on the bike path. It sounds silly, right? It's the bike path, isn't that the best place to ride? No, it's not. The bike path is not just for bikes. It's for pedestrians, strollers, kids on trikes, dogs, skateboarders, and the most odious of non-cyclist roller bladers. I hate riding on the bike path because there are no rules. Yes, generally we keep to the right, but the whole thing is only a few 2.5 yards wide, things are bound to get messy. Particularly on sunny weekends. I hate riding on it, because I can't anticipate what all these people will do. Will they stop, move to the left, listen for me coming up behind them? All in all, constantly being on defense just makes for a stressful (and slower) ride.

What I like about the road, is that I know what to expect. Sure, a car could not see me, or could run a light, or make a turn without signaling, but generally, they are well-behaved and orderly. I still have to ride defensively, but I can be reasonably sure that I can anticipate what they'll do.

If I'm gonna take advantage of the orderliness that comes with riding on the road, I have to uphold it myself. That means following the same rules as the cars.* But in exchange, as drivers, we've gotta accept that bikes are gonna be on the road and that that's the best place for them. Give bikes room when we pass, use our blinkers and just follow the rules (that's right, stopping in the middle of a roundabout to let a biker on, is actually not helpful, now you're doing something unexpected and that causes accidents). At the end of the day, I'm both a driver and a cyclist, I try to show respect for both groups.

* Within reason. This means when rolling (yes, rolling, not throttling) toward a stop sign, if there's no one approaching, then roll through it (note: cars do this too). This means it's ok to ride two abreast when you're not in traffic, but you MUST go single file as soon as a car approaches (cars, a nice little toot on the horn [not laying on it] is appropriate if a bike doesn't go single right away). This does not excuse track stands at lights, weaving between cars or going the wrong way on a one way street. And don't get me started on helmets.

They can't all be good rides

First, Saturday, I took on another Brick of Doom. That's right: 2.5 mi run, 30 mi bike, 2.5 mi run, 30 mi bike, 2 mi run. Phew. 4.5 hours later, it was done. Special thanks to Jeff from BPC for taking this on after 6 weeks off the bike.

Then on Sunday, Paul and I joined a few other triathletes for our first ride together since the Prouty. Not our most successful ride:

1. We couldn't find the key to one of the bike racks to lock the bike on.
2. We couldn't find the key to unlock Paul's bike from the bike rack.
3. The local bike shop wasn't open to try to get a spare key from.
4. Paul took his first (and second) tumble while being clipped in (had to happen some time).
5. Paul's back wheel was not true and was rubbing on his brake.
6. Paul's waterbottle cage was loose and rattling.
   
7. Our 28 mile loop was actually 34. And I missed a turn and took us an additional half mile.
   
8. Paul was out of water and ready to be done at 25 miles.

But we made it. The next ride can only get better from here, right?

Doing what we came for

Yesterday was the Prouty Charity Ride up in New Hampshire. It was Paul's first charity ride. It was also his first ride of the season. In fact, it was his first ride over 10 miles (35!). And it was my second race in New Hampshire in the pouring rain. (Does not bode well for Timberman)

Paul is not a cyclist. Despite his dedication to the Tour de France coverage, he's more of a team sport guy. The non-binary nature of the sport (no single winner/loser) doesn't appeal. On the contrary, that's actually the thing that has drawn me into triathlon. Each race is determined by me: there's no team to support me; no one to let down. If I go a little faster than last time, then that's a victory. If I ride a little further, that's a new challenge to have vanquished.

It's tough to keep perspective when the rest of our team rode 100 miles (after a night a pretty serious drinking [after we went to bed] nonetheless). But I don't think that should overshadow Paul's accomplishment.

This week Paul had been joking that he would only do 10 miles of the race. At 10 miles in, I asked if he wanted to do the 20 mile course, but Paul says no. We're doing what we came here to do.

So, I'm pretty excited for Paul's longest ride ever. We held a pace of almost 16 mph, took on a few serious hills and didn't even stop at the 3rd (and final) rest stop. The last hill, by and far the worst, was one that he thought he might have to walk up, but he didn't. He made it. When we passed through the finish line, he first laid his bike on the ground, then laid himself on the ground next to it and said that hill might have been the hardest thing he had ever done, EVER.

Now that's something to be proud of.

Signs of spring

1. The jacarandas are out. They are these gorgeous purple flowering trees (pictured above from the balcony at work). Unlike certain stingy harbingers of spring (dogwoods, I'm looking at you), the jacarandas ignite with blossoms and stay in bloom for weeks. Under each tree is a carpet of purple flowers. They're nicknamed flame trees in this song which I find stuck in my head every time I see one:

(I prefer this version to the original, which you can youtube yourself.)

2. With the sun rising earlier in the morning and the lack of daylight savings time in Queensland, I'm beginning to redevelop my cycling knicks tan, that solid line across the thighs above which is pale and below which is tan.

3. The magpies are out. And they don't like cyclists. They attack cyclists in fact. As a result, many riders attach zipties to their helmets creating spokes. Others put eyes on the back of their helmets. Though the best solution I've seen was a combination of both: big googly eyes on springs sticking up from the helmet. So far, knock on wood, I haven't been attacked.

Ride Report: Brisbane to Gold Coast

Distance covered: 100.8km
Time: 3h 58m
Average speed: 25km/hr
Bananas: 3 (2 lady fingers, 1 standard, all unripe)
Gu's: 4
Muesli bars: 2
Trips to the bathroom: 3

Several of my co-workers had signed up to do the ride ages ago. Last week, I decided to the join the group. It was my first 100K ride since the Adelaide-Melbourne tour. And as it turned out, my first 100K ride that was not in the rain.

I felt much fitter this time than 5 months ago. Can't tell whether this is cause I am fitter, or cause it was only one day of 100K at a much slower speed. Either way, it was heaps of fun. There were two rest stops with food, water, bathrooms, mechanics where we all caught up after thinning out on the road.

The course was great until the very end. The first 15K or so were through the busway, which had been vacated by buses. It was nice open road, no cars to contend with, though a surprising number of flat tires on that part of the course. Then we travelled along smaller country roads with some car traffic. Finally as we got into Southport we were down to two lane roads, with lots of weekend traffic. The Gold Coast has a lot of waterways, and thus a lot of little bridges over canals. And with this being the end of the day, people were really struggling to get up and over these bridges and were causing a lot of congestion with other riders. I think, had we taken a bit less time in the rest stops this wouldn't have been so big a deal.

One of the cool things about racing around SE QLD is that I start to see areas multiple times. Today's ride included some of the ride from last week's triathlon and a bunch of the half marathon course from July. I don't really know these areas - they just look familiar to me. Still it's a pretty cool feeling to think "cool, I've done this course before, I peed behind that tree!"

Grand Re-Opening

Well here it is folks! The new and improved (and public) blog. Subscribe to your heart's contents.

In other news, tomorrow is the Brisbane to Gold Coast 100K ride. It will be the first 100K ride I've done since the Adelaide to Melbourne tour. If weather predictions hold, it will also continue the trend of only ever riding 100K rides in the rain. Woohoo.

Going soft

For a few days Brisbanites have been predicting cold for Tuesday night. There were rumours that the temperatures would actually reach 0 (the minimum recorded temperature for July - the coldest month of the year - is -0.1). On Tuesday night at the pool, the coach commended us for coming out for a swim on what was supposed to be the coldest night of the year.

This morning when I rose for my ride, I got ready. I put on a long sleeved thermal top, then a bike jersey (gotta love the pockets), then an athletic sweater, then a windbreaker. On the bottom I wore leg warmers (not like from the 80s, they're sorta like the legs off of running tights, with reflective panels). I wore a knit cap, long-fingered gloves and finally, my little neoprene booties which stretch over my bike cleats to keep the cold air out.

Turns out, it was 7 degrees this morning (45). And I was wearing roughly twice as many layers as I needed.

How did I ever survive in Boston?

Bloody motorist

It's been months since I was hit by the car. I am, for the most part, all better. I still should go get some physio on my left side. It still tightens up when I ride, and my left hip is definitely not as flexible as the right one, but I get by. I've got the new bike, and so for the most part, life has moved on.

I got a quote to replace the bike and have been calling the motorist for a while asking for his insurance info. He's been stalling. First he wanted the police report, then once it was done, he wanted them to send him a copy (which they don't do), so then I paid for a copy ($65, thank you very much), and posted a copy to him. Then he avoided my calls. I finally got in touch with him and he says he wants to contest the police report. Motherfucker. My response was, "Fine, you'll hear from my solicitor"

Problem is lawyers or solicitors won't take a case that's less than $7500. And my damages are only $2600. I can take him to small claims court, but I have to do that in Cairns, which means taking a day off, flying to Cairns, and there's still no guarantee that he'd show up, or even pay up with a court order.

So, I've hired a collections agency. They take 40%, which is pretty steep, but to have the problem go away and just get a check for $1000 is worth it. Especially, if they make this guy's life shitty in the process. I don't think of myself as a vindictive person. But, christ, the man could have just as easily killed me if there'd been another car behind me. And now he's being all slimey and trying to get out of. Fuck him.

Amendment: Slowest of the slow

Today I rode with the slow group, and I still couldn't keep up. I brake when going down hills or around corners or when there's a car anywhere in my sight. And then I'm constantly playing catch up.

New bike!

Bike shops make me nervous. I think it's cause even after 100 miles in one day, I still feel pretty clueless about bikes. I mix up my down tube and my down bars. I'm never sure what it means to go up or down a gear (especially depending on whether it's on the front or the back gears). So I've been dragging my feet about buying a new bike. I want a new bike, but all those decisions, trying to find a good price, a trustworthy mechanic, an upgrade from my old bike, but not too much bike that people look at me and think, "What's that girl doing on such a nice bike?" It's all been a bit too much. But with my extended holiday coming to a close(work starts on Monday), I needed to get moving.

I've checked out 3 bike shops that are in walking distance of my house. Is it so wrong that bike shop I eventually bought the bike from was the one that didn't make me nervous? It was also the only shop to discount the bike price. And the most affordable bike overall.

Here she is, my new bike:

http://www.cannondale.com/bikes/08/cusa/model-8RCS3C.htm

I've ordered it in black. But it's a clear coat that shows the carbon fiber. She should be here, built and fitted by next weekend! Hooray, bike! Any name recommendations?

Cycling the Great Ocean Road

The Great Ocean Road runs from Warrnambool to Torquay, just West of Melbourne. When I signed up for the tour, I didn't realize how much time I would spend not cycling the Great Ocean Road. On the above map, only about a third of it is GOR. The rest is a whole lot of desert.

The week on the road settled into a nice routine. Wake up, breakfast, pack up, ride, stop for morning tea, ride, stop for lunch, ride, check into next motel, shower, lay out smelly, rainy clothes to dry, dinner, sleep. It also has created some bad habits I need to now rid myself of, like eating anything in sight, wiping my nose on my sleeve and spitting. Not appropriate for polite company.

I kept a daily journal on the road, with the hopes that somewhere in that routine I'd bump into the internet. Alas, no such luck. So here are a few back days of travel in the desert and the GOR.

Great Ocean Road, Day 1: Adelaide Gorge Rd

I wouldn’t say I’m having doubts, maybe just second thoughts. I’ve signed up for an 8 day cycle tour from Adelaide to Melbourne, supposed to be one of the most beautiful roads in the country. The tour is organized by a New Zealand company. And on this tour in particular, I’m the only non-kiwi. In fact, I’m the only non-Christchurcher. Actually, I’m the only person who doesn’t race 100Ks with this group every Saturday. And aside from the guide’s sons, I’m the youngest person by at least 10 years.

I know that South Australia is in severe drought. However, I feel that I deserved a long (read: more than 4 minute) hot shower. After all, I did ride through the rain for two hours. To kiwi’s this sort of weather is delightful (or “dilotful” in kiwi). Our guide said it was 18 degrees when we left (low 60s), but I feel pretty sure it was more close to the low 50s most of the day.

We took off on our intro ride from North Adelaide along Gorge Road. Gorge Road lived up to the images that are conjured when you hear “Gorge.” It was hilly, windy, windy and beautiful. We stopped after 30 minutes, and I took off my sweater and opted just for my wind/waterproof shell. This seemed like the right move, I felt cool, but comfortable while I was riding, and got a bit cold when stopped. Then, it started raining. Even though I wasn’t wet, the rain evaporating from the jacket made my arms particularly cold. Then, when I was stopped I felt warm, and when I was riding I was freezing. So a lesson learned for the rest of the trip. Get your gloves out of the van when you have a chance. At the last 15K where, going down a very long hill, my hands got so numb I had trouble keeping them on the brakes, I decided to ride in the van.

In the van I stripped off my socks and shoes to discover my toes were white: there was no blood in them at all, and I had trouble warming them up. Even after my hot shower I seemed to have trouble regulating my body temperature. Lesson number two: keep a warm change of clothes in the van.

Tomorrow we actually leave Adelaide. It’s supposed to be 115K ride (that’s 25K longer than my current longest ever). It’s also supposed to be hilly, and rainy, and cold. I’m still glad I’m doing it, but I’m also a little weary of what the trip has in store, particularly tomorrow and the next day as my body gets used to this new bike.

Great Ocean Road, Day 2: Adelaide to Victor Harbour
The plan this morning was a 9am departure. At 7am I woke up to the rain pounding the roof. At 8:45 I received a call saying, we were putting off riding for a few hours. We packed the bikes on top of the trailer and drove out the Glenelg, a beach town just south of Adelaide. It was gorgeous. Clear skies, sunny, grabbed a coffee and hit the road. Climbing, climbing, climbing.

And then, the clouds roll in, the skies open up and it… hails. It fucking hails. Not big hail, only about the size of Styrofoam pellets. But still. We catch up with the van, I grab my waterproof shell. (Using my lesson from yesterday I’ve been cycling with my gloves all morning) After another 8K or so, it’s pouring, the van pulls over, and we load our bikes back in. We’ve covered 27K or so. And give up on making the other 100 or so. We drive out to Victor Harbour, get quick showers and head for lunch.

Great Ocean Road, Day 3: Victor Harbour to Meningie
I think I’m officially an Aussie. I had vegemite on toast for brekky this morning.

I rode 102K today, a new record. The morning was littered with mechanical troubles. But once we got away from the coast and worked our way inland through stunning South Australian wine country and then shut down farms, things started to flow.

Every time I do a new longer distance it feels like crap the first time, and the next time it feels ok. Today was no exception. We have a support van that carries extra gear, food, water, etc. It drives up ahead then waits for us to catch up. Today, the real trouble was that the fast group was so far ahead, that for the van to set up our picnic lunch in the town of Wellington (one gas station, a caravan park, and a ferry), I didn’t see it for the last 40K or so of the ride. Which was ok, but I ran out of food and water. 40K takes around 1.5 hours. That’s a really long time to go without water even when it’s 60 out. We passed a sign saying 11K to the town, and I was psyched, I knew I could make it. By 9K I was really starting to struggle, started getting dizzy and worrying that I wouldn’t make it. But at 5K I knew I could. I might have counted down every 100m, but I made it.

Not a very happy lunch, but a good one. And after lunch, a van trip to Meningie, a nice long hot shower, I was very proud. And the tour group is very supportive, even toasted my first 100K at dinner tonight.

Meningie is a tiny, no stoplight town, slightly bigger than Wellington (it has a pub and a grocery store). It’s situated on Lake Albert, which is a vastly dwindling lake that’s been hit hard by drought. Our motel is straight out of the 70s, complete with ugly carpet and framed tiger photo. Brilliant.

Three 60K rides tomorrow, I’m hoping to make 120!

Great Ocean Road, Day 4: Meningie to Robe
I missed my chance at free wireless internet today. I didn’t think to check til it was too late, and the password must be obtained from reception. We leave tomorrow at 8am, when reception re-opens. Oh, the joy of staying in some of Australia’s best motels!

Today we rode 60K to Salt Creek where we had morning tea at a roadhouse. A roadhouse is the Australian equivalent of a gas station/diner/motel. This one claimed to have real coffee, but apparently just had drip that they added foam to. It was terrible. The first 20K felt shit, but from there on felt good. A few things contributed to that: we all road together in a pack, I ate at least every 30K, we had breaks every 60K or so.

Picture a long straight road fading off into a vanishing point on the horizon, you know, like the picture you drew in elementary art class when you learned about perspective. Now on either side of that road plant dried grass and scrubby gum trees. That was all we saw today. You can almost see why early Europeans might have thought running cattle on this land to be a good idea. It was later proved that running sheep and cattle would only ruin the vegetation and stomp down the ground til nothing would grow on it. We saw many abandoned farms. We stopped at the 85K mark and I felt good. Decided to ride on to 120. Luckily, the van had stopped around 112 for lunch. So my total distance today was 112, still 10K further than yesterday, but not quite the 120 I had hoped for. Tomorrow is 140 total. Do I dare?

Great Ocean Road, Day 5: Robe to Mt. Gambier
I woke up this morning to the rain with legs that felt like lead. I decided I needed a day of rest. I packed a bag of my cycling gear in case I had a change of heart. In the car on the way to tea I was starving. I had a big egg sandwich at tea, took a nap in the car, and by lunch I was ready to get back on the bike. It was only 37K, but it helped. It got my legs moving and made the day not feel like a waste.

It’s funny, I saw more wildlife today than other days. From the van, it’s easy to watch the landscape pass by. On the bike, riding in a pack, most of your focus has to be on the wheel in front of you, to make sure that you maintain a close distance, but not too close. Today, I saw emus from the car, and a dead kangaroo from the bike. Otherwise, I saw a cassowary on day 1 in a pen, and some white wallabies. And I’ve seen many many cows and sheep.

Great Ocean Road, Day 6: Mt. Gambier to Port Fairy
172K. That’s over 100 miles. I rode the entire distance from Mt. Gambier to Port Fairy. I did not get in the van, not once.

Also, we lost 3 of our riders today. The guy driving the van is a little bit of a space cadet. We’d sorta split into 3 groups: Anna, Craig and John in front, me, Marg and Ross in the middle and Ralph, Simona and Jacob at the back. We got to the lunch stop and the front group wasn’t there. We asked Stu (the van guy) and he said he couldn’t find them. This is worrying. Had they made a wrong turn? Were they just up ahead of where we were having lunch. Stu left us with the lunch and went looking for them. He returned, and still couldn’t find them. We decided to continue on, and he’d go ahead looking for them. When he did find them they were 10K out of Port Fairy, and had stopped for lunch on their own.

Today was the best day of riding yet. It was sunny and warm, we crossed the Victorian border and the landscape changed, we got rolling hills, green fields, and wind farms. At lunch, we’d ridden 108K. I still felt good, and since I hadn’t broken 112, I wanted to keep riding. It was just me and the boys. It was 65 more K to Port Fairy. I wanted to hit 130. When I did and the van wasn’t around, I wanted to make it to 150. When I hit 150, Ralph told me it was only 10 more K to hit the 100 mile mark, he also mentioned it was only 25 more K to get home. 25K is just under an hour. In my head, I thought, “Ok, one more hour, that’s not so bad.” Then I thought, “one more hour of exercise, after 5 hours of riding, who thinks that?”

Great Ocean Road Day 7: Port Fairy to Apollo Bay
Today we finally made it onto the Great Ocean Road.. It was cold, wet and miserable, but I was determined to get my 100K in and to actually cycle on the GOR. We didn't hit the GOR til about the 55K mark, where the sun briefly made an appearance, I removed my rain gear, only to be pounded once again about 20 minutes later. Things were starting to fall apart on my bike as well. I got a flattie that slowed me down a bunch. It was a nail. I've only ever gotten two flatties, and they were both nails. Once I had a new tube, my rear derailer seemed to be unhappy. I couldn't get into the big cogs (i.e., the easier gears). This is not so great for the hilly ride along the coast. And I was having trouble clipping into my pedals. And Ralph assured us it was only 96K to lunch, and it was really 106. I know it's only a 10% difference, but another 10K can piss you off when you thought you were done.

We had lunch at the 12 Apostles, which are immense pillars of rock just off the coast. There were 12 of them, now only 7 remain. They were incredible.

After lunch it was another 100K to Apollo Bay and two very very big hills. I decided I didn't need to do that. And enjoyed the scenery from the van.

Great Ocean Road, Day 8: Apollo Bay to Anglesea (and Melbourne)
Last day of riding. And by and far the best scenery so far. I fixed my rear derailer (turns out the wheel was just not quite in straight). It was fantastic. Winding road along the ocean, small surf towns. We even saw koalas in a eucalyptus grove. Really, quite perfect. Only 70K. I would do it again in a heartbeat

Motor Vehicle Accident at Low Speeds

This was my bike, during what I now know is the last race it will ever see. Because this is what my bike looks like now:

It doesn't look that bad. But it can't be fixed and it can't be replaced, and since it's part of the frame, it means the bike will never ride again.


This morning I went out for my first ride in a week (rain was only a sprinkle). Simone and I had only gone 3K, when a car didn't see me on the highway as it was coming off a side street. It ran through a yield sign, hit me from my left side and sent me over into the other lane. Other than some pretty gruesome bruises, I escaped without injury. Nothing broken. But my bike was not as lucky.


I brought my bike from the US. I arrived halfway around the world eight months ago with 3 suitcases and a bike. It is one of the few items from home that I made the effort to bring. And although I may not have always been the best caretaker of my bike, I loved it fiercely. I was heartbroken to learn that it had not survived the crash and that it will not be competing with me in my first olympic distance triathlon.


Even though I was not at fault in the accident. I still feel responsible. I saw the car, I knew it still had some speed, I just thought it had seen me. I thought it would stop. And I feel guilty, on behalf of my bike, for not riding more defensively.


I will miss you.
LeMond Tourmalet
2006-2008

A new chapter in cycling

Cairns has two seasons: the dry and the wet. So far, I've been enjoying the dry. This week, I've started to get a taste of the wet, which usually lasts from January through March. It's hot and humid. It rains sometimes in downpours, sometimes in sprinkles, but always when I'm outside. Then there's a little sunshine, and the sidewalks steam dry, and you have just enough time to fish out your sunglasses from your purse before it starts raining again.

This sort of weather pattern has created some new obstacles for biking:

A plague of frogs
Given the options for cycling in Cairns involve either the North Highway or the South Highway, roadkill is a common occurrence. Most of the time, it's just wallabies, identifiable by their fur and red meat. They have since been replaced by a plague of frogs that emerge during the storms and hurl themselves onto the highway. These are not little frogs either. These are the frogs you dissected in high school biology. In fact I think I could make money collecting them and selling them to high schools (10 bonus points to the student who can name which organ is still lying on the side of the road).

Was that a giant lizard or a tiny croc?
Really, who can tell when you're trying to avoid large chunks of it on the shoulder of the road? Seriously, based on the remnants, I believe this thing must have been between 3 and 4 feet long. One of the other riders swore it was a goana (aka, tiny dinosaur), but I'm not 100% convinced.

Mangoes: tasty treat or obstacle course?
Mangoes are in season here, and they are delicious. Unfortunately, the storms knock them out of the trees and onto the roads. They can be a bit hard to avoid, especially when riding in a pack. But they will either shoot out from under your tires or just squish. Occasionally though, you'll hit a pit. They can easily throw your balance.

Cycling shoes should come with drainage holes
I'm seriously considering drilling holes in the toes of my cycling shoes. Since the soles are a solid piece of plastic, they just pool with water when it rains. I could just feel my toes shriveling.

80K ride + buckets of rain = chafe
I'll just leave it at that.

Hurray, only 4 more months of rain!