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Diary of a Siglet
by Anthony Poole
Week 1, Saturday 1st March 2003
I'm not sure where the term Siglet comes from, but I rather like it. Anyway, I've finally decided to drag my backside onto the bike and do something really positive this spring after various attempts at training in winter weather proved frustrating, to put it mildly. The icing up of water bottles is particularly annoying.
Saturday 1 March saw the start of the A programs. I've chosen the A19 program, even though I've not managed to do a self-test, largely because of the weather. On the occasions I've tried, my bottles or my feet have frozen up, and I had only completed two laps of the park in recent tests, which indicated a likely time of around 1 hour 32 minutes for the four laps.
According to the guidance, this would mean I could have a go at the Classics, but at this stage of the game, I feel more confident with the 19s.
Thankfully Saturday 1 March was dry, above freezing, even if it was overcast. After the orientation, which was far more detailed than I expected, we got going, heading off to Northvale. My group was headed by the affable Ed Fishkin, who fed us with just the right amount of tips and information when we needed it. Nice one Ed! We rode as a group and only twice got temporarily split up when, somehow, I managed to go across the George Washington Bridge, ahead of everyone else, thinking the people in front of me were part of my group. I realized my error half way across and waited on the Jersey side, where we regrouped before progressing.
And I had a little hesitancy on a traffic circle and got slightly behind and was gently chastised by one of the co leaders, Gretchen Bates, who was immediately behind me for not sticking with the others. Then later on, I had some hesitancy at a changing traffic light. The front had got through on green, and if I hadn't hesitated, we could have got across as a unit. I fumbled and couldn't work out whether to brake or accelerate. In the end I did both and we all crossed and I caught up with the back of the pack. But I had learned my lesson that indecision like that, as part of a group, is a big no no!
The ride continued and I marveled at the snow banked on either side of me, taking care to avoid it, and at a frozen lake that we swept past. Otherwise we continued uneventfully to the diner at Northvale, where I tucked into a very tasty salmon wrap, washed down with orange juice and hot chocolate.
With the fuel tank full again, and water bottles charged, it was time to head back. To keep warm, and to get my legs going again, I did a dozen or so gentle laps of the car park at the diner, before our group had retrieved their machines and we were all ready to go.
The journey back was accompanied by good vocal communications among all of us: "hole", "crater", "ice right", "bump" were popular ones. "Dead rabbit", was one of my contributions. Some of the potholes looked fresh and quite menacingly large, which is not surprising after the fabulous winter we've had. And I managed to remember not to call out hazards to nonexistent cyclists behind me while riding on my own this week.
Walnut Hill came as a bit of a shocker. I've not ridden this one in quite a while, but got up it fairly reasonably, although I know that when I'm in shape and shed a few pounds, I can certainly do much better.
And then we were back in Manhattan in no time at all, so it seemed.
A couple of days later I was able to do a self-test of four laps of Central Park, which gave me a time of 1 hour 34 mins and 37 seconds. It was during a weekday, and the park reopened 20 minutes early to traffic just as I was starting my third lap. However, it was not until just before the end of my fourth lap that the traffic presented a problem, when I got caught at the traffic lights on the 72nd Street crossing on the west side. I had chosen to start my laps less than a hundred yards south of the 72nd Street crossing and a steady stream of taxis and limos meant that I just couldn't get through. I think it safe to say that this probably added about 35-45 seconds to my time. It's hard to tell whether that puts me comfortably inside the 1 hour 35 minutes time necessary for the A Classics.
At the moment I feel like I've made the right choice with A19s, although if the leaders think otherwise, after a couple of weeks, then we'll see. I could always do the Classics next year. For now, I'm looking forward to ride No 2 to Scarsdale. New territory for me, I've never been there by any mode of transport, let alone on the bike.
I can't help thinking that it's a shame that there is nothing like the equivalent of the NYCC, let alone the SIGs, back in my native London.
Week 2, Saturday 8th March 2003
We are being teased into thinking the seasons are changing; the daytime temperatures have been rising above freezing for more than a week now and the snow from the big storm of 17th February had all but gone in the city when on Thursday 6th March, my training was brought back indoors by another five wet inches of the white stuff.
But Saturday promises to be warm, even though we will have to contend with melting snow and very wet roads. My bike is, shamefully, already dirty and I know it will be filthy by the time we get back this afternoon. A point not lost in Ed, who explains that when we get home, we will all need to give our bikes a thorough wash, scrub and re lubricate everything, otherwise our chains will be rusty by the morning.
We're off to Scarsdale, through parts of the Bronx which are uncharted territory for me. No rotating pace lines today. Ed explains the idea is to keep a nice, tight line and avoid gaps and the concertina effect.
We head out into the streets and over Madison Avenue Bridge. This is much better to ride on than the last time and head for the Grand Concourse. Here Ed gives us a lesson in safety in numbers; we are to ride in a double line and occupy the inside lane of the express part of the Grand Concourse. It works well, and we are not interfered with by the traffic, and everyone keeps up.
Finally, the roads are quieter as we head out of the city and into Bronxville, riding alongside the railway and the Bronx River Parkway, with the sun shining down on the snow, melting it and making it look like a winter wonderland. I'm astonished at the size of the potholes, which are not surprising, given the winter we've had. I just hope the local authorities set about repairing them as soon as spring arrives. Fortunately, the communication among us is good, so all hazards are avoided.
Once out of the city, we were treated to an expert lesson on how to change a flat, as Dr Ed's front tire managed to engage an upturned screw. I make a point of paying particular attention, as I had struggled putting a new tire on only a few weeks ago, which left me cursing and swearing and with sore fingers.
I did manage to jettison a water bottle, while going over a particularly rough stretch of road and stopped to retrieve it. Somehow, my yelling didn't get heard and I found myself doing a mini time trial to get back on, which I duly did. The last couple of miles to Scarsdale, with all those nice big houses, reminded me of stockbroker belt towns in the Home Counties outside London, such as Chorleywood, Rickmansworth or Amersham.
My first bad menu choice in Scarsdale - a tuna sandwich. After the fresh salmon wrap the previous week, I wasn't expecting the tuna to have come straight from a can.
On the return, one of our group was struggling to keep up, probably a B Sig candidate. And I was caught off guard by one of our leaders Maria when we were stopped at a red light, who pulled up alongside me and grabbed my right arm to steady herself. Unfortunately, in the process, she came close to pulling me off balance, and I only just managed to get my right Look cleat out in time and put my foot down as my left foot was now off the ground and my center of gravity was not low enough to stop me from falling to the right. Somehow, I don't think Maria would have enjoyed the experience of my landing on top of her and probably won't thank me for recounting this tale. She felt highly embarrassed afterwards, and I told her she should not worry about it.
Although there had been some debate on the message board the day before as to whether we should ride, I'm glad we did. Yes the roads were wet, but we were fine.
On Monday evening, I'm amused and pleased to see my arse (ass) adorn the home page of the NYCC's website. Our group is depicted going up a slight hill towards Scarsdale, with the melting snow on either side of the road looking pretty in the sunlight and turning the neighborhood into a winter wonderland. And I discovered an eight second video of us on our way back to Manhattan had also been posted and another video, embedded in Jim Galante's website, of me riding with a fast cadence, which must have been shot by Rob Kohn, just before he took the photograph that's on the home page.
I feel enthused to go and do some good training this week. And on Tuesday (11th), I did 12 hill repeats from the 103rd Street loop, up to the top of the park during the day, while it was closed to traffic. I would have done more, but the monotony finally got to me.
Week 3, Saturday 15 March 2003
Rebecca and I are preparing to go out on the bikes. When I was doing hill repeats last Tuesday, she was doing three laps of the park in preparation for her self-assessment ride on Saturday, which marked the start of the C Sigs.
I am up early enough to phone my father in England and wish him a happy birthday and I'm now wondering how many layers to put on. It is just above freezing outside, but the forecast high is for around 62F. I decide to put plenty of layers on and get hot if necessary.
We set off towards GWB and Herb tells me I'm overdoing the communicating. I guess I was being a bit too enthusiastic. This week, I'm proudly sporting a new cue sheet holder, lovingly made by my wife. I have Campag on my bike, so no cables to clip things to, unlike with Shimano, so Rebecca made this ingenious device, which slots into my front light holder, with two Velcro tags to tie around the handlebar stem to stop it from flapping about in the wind. It works a treat. I find, while riding in the middle of the group, it pretty hard to keep an eye on where we're going and to see whereabouts I am on the cue sheet. We're still not rotating the pace line yet, but we will be next week.
Once into Jersey, there seemed to be one turn after another. How you rotate a pace line on such a course is beyond me, but I'm sure all will become clear.
This week's course is a bit more rolling and I'm feeling the benefits of my hill repeats. After a little confusion, just before the diner, Ed, who had been leading another group pulls up on his own. He'd been interrupted several times by his mobile phone ñ all work-related, so we suddenly found ourselves with an extra leader and went onto the diner. My menu choice, this time, was fish and chips ñ pretty good, but not like in England. Ed introduced me to another English member of the NYCC who, like me, has married a New Yorker. I'm ashamed to say I can't remember her name. (Hanna Vazquez) She's expecting a baby and there was a picture of her somewhere on Jim Galante's postings. I should make a point of keeping in touch. Maybe I should invite them around for some of my Shepherds Pie. Of course, it would help if I could remember her name.
During lunch, I was sat opposite fellow Siglet, Seamus. We discussed the Six Nations Rugby Championship and how delighted we both were that France had lost to both England and Ireland. And we discussed green card issues and citizenship.
Ed decided on the way back that we would try and rotate the pace line. Nothing heavy duty, and I think all of us had at least two turns up front, before the traffic got heavy. Ed explained the rules: when you get to the front, don't speed up, maintain the pace; look and make sure it's clear before pulling off and shout "pulling off"; move out about one foot and drop back one bike length every three to five seconds; when the last person calls "last" start pedaling a bit harder and get back on line comfortably. It all sounds so simple. I think I dropped back too slowly. Still, it was fun trying.
This next week is going to be difficult to train, as I'm working a lot out of town and have various evening commitments.
But Rebecca and I did make a point of going out on Sunday 16th March, to help her get ready for next Saturday.
Week 4, Saturday 22nd March 2003
I'm nervous because I've hardly trained all week, although I've carried on eating as though I have. We're off to White Plains today, and I have my cue sheet ready, expecting to have to use it. I don't really know any of the roads, and I've only ever been to White Plains once before, by train, and at night time. Rebecca is nervous, because it's her first C Sig, but she will at least have her father to keep her company.
I am somewhat relieved to discover that as this is the first official week of rotating the pace line, the leaders of our small group have decided to throw away the cue sheet and go straight up 9W to Nyack. A brilliant move ñ no navigational skills required, leaving us free to concentrate on rotating the pace line on a nice wide shoulder.
We depart after the other three groups have gone, so they don't get wind of our changed itinerary. Once 9W broadened out, we put the pace line into action. I was gently chastised by Tim for taking too long to drop back, and for stopping pedaling before I had really pulled off. My second turn upfront, I think I managed to keep pedaling until after I had pulled off, but I was still a bit too slow in dropping back, but I think I gradually improved. I'm really feeling the benefits of the pace line, which is probably just as well as my training this last week has been abysmal.
The Runcible Spoon was predictably crowded, with customary, lengthy bathroom line and the A19 STS had just stopped by too. I recognized the face of Fred Steinberg outside the Spoon from photographs in the NYCC Bulletin. He was about to set off again, and I was too seriously engaged by my bagel to go and waylay him.
Our journey home was via Route 501, for variety. There's no shoulder as such on this road and it made it all the more important to move back off the line quickly and to look carefully before pulling off.
And then my lack of training showed on Walnut Hill, which was definitely not one of my better attempts.
This coming week, the forecast is good and I have a light workload, so I should be able to get out and train.
Pleased to see another picture of me on the A19 Sig pics, showing me dropping back on a single pace line, after a stint upfront.
And on Tuesday 24th I opt to ride solo to Nyack again, using the same route as Saturday. I had a tailwind on the way out and I decided to give it some welly and averaged about 16.7mph from home to the Spoon. It was slower going back against the wind, but not that much, and it gave me a good workout. I got up Walnut Hill much better this time.
Hill repeats in the park on Thursday and Friday.
Week 5, Saturday 29th March 2003
Nyack again ñ same route. Today I have some nice new Look cleats on, and I've fitted them in just the right place. The forecast is for rain or showers in the afternoon, but not before 3pm. The cue sheet has a route with a lot of turns on it and, in order to shorten the ride a little (in time ñ not so much length), in case of rain, 9W is the chosen route. Jim admires my cue sheet holder and I point to Rebecca on the other side of the car park and explain that she made it.
As Ed points out, 9W will also give us the opportunity to have a go at double, rotating pace lines. We go over GWB without stopping and head straight for 9W. Once on 9W and onto where the road broadens into a shoulder, I find myself upfront on the inside of a double pace line with Tim and before I know it, I've done my first rotation. We stop briefly for a briefing and then I find myself upfront again with Ed. In what seems like no time, I've done three or four rotations. Then the order changes, for some reason, and I'm on the front with Tim again. I'm on the inside, we're doing about 19 mph and I see a patch of sand ahead. I have no choice but to go over it and I feel my back wheel sliding from side to side. Thankfully it was short and I'm back on proper road again with traction restored. Lots of gravel and grit on the road, and I'm hoping none of it pierces my tires.
Once in Nyack, Ed takes us to a nice diner, where we can take our bikes inside and it is a lot less crowded than the Spoon. This time it's eggs easy over for me and toast. On the way back, we can all feel the benefits of the pace line against the wind. We are in a single this time, as the roads are narrower than 9W. Unfortunately, six or seven miles in to the return leg, and we are stopped as another group from the A19s has had a rider brought down by a large pothole. Ed attends to Alison until the ambulance arrives. We later learn that Ed's suspicion of a broken collar bone has been confirmed. I hope she makes a quick recovery, although realistically, it's six weeks off the bike. When we resumed, we kept the pace down for a little while, before picking it up gradually.
Walnut Hill was even better this time. Ed said: Anthony, you're climbing like a billy goat I replied: "It must be the hill repeats or my home made bread." If I manage to shed 14 pounds, I will be able to climb hills like I used to three and a half years ago when I went over the French Alps.
We see the C Siglets on the Manhattan side of GWB, who had more or less blocked our way, but it gave me a chance to say hello to my wife and Mitch (father in law), before heading back with the others to the boathouse, where I bought an overpriced tuna sandwich, which was much better than the one I had in Scarsdale.
On the way home, I discover my front tire has a slow puncture. I pump it up, which is enough to get me home, just three blocks away. On Sunday morning I attended to it, and took the opportunity of putting on a new tire too. Remembering the lesson Ed had given us a few weeks ago, and with Rebecca reading out the instructions given to her at her first SIG, I have that replacement tube and tire on very easily this time.
It's raining. Rebecca and I need to stock up on a few things at Toga, which has the friendliest cat in the world, unless you're a dog. This cat, named Museauw, after the Belgian rider, attacks dogs, especially over-pampered toy dogs. Go Museauw!
After Toga, instead of a recovery ride, I decide to cook a recovery lunch of roast tarragon chicken, roast potatoes, veggies etc. and there's still some chicken in the fridge.
I'm planning to take Rebecca and Mitch out on Wednesday morning for hill training on Walnut Hill, and will do some hill repeats myself on this hill. I'm sure it's going to hurt all of us, though.
Week 6, Sunday 6th April 2003
Our first ride to be lost to rain on Saturday, so we are riding on Sunday instead, deprived of an hour of sleep. It's cold and windy, but very bright and sunny. Iíve opted to wear a few more layers than in the last week or two. Iíve even got the booties out again, although I forgot to put on sensible gloves. Thankfully, I made a point of moving my fingers constantly, to stop them from getting cold. The only things that did get cold were my two big toes, despite the booties and thick socks.
Somehow, we were not as fluid as in previous weeks ñ both riders and leaders, and we kept stopping for discussion. Eventually, I found myself with a group that got to the diner in Park Ridge first, which was packed with Sunday church go'ers, so we decided to call in at the convenience store next door to the diner and I munched on bananas, bread rolls and a cake of some sort. The stop was relatively brief, just 30 minutes before we headed back for home, off cue sheet, and we were able to rotate the pace line properly this time. But the roads were too narrow for doubles. The decision to go off cue sheet gave me my first taste of Closter Dock hill, which demonstrated to me just how much hill training I still need to do.
I ended up going back to the park on my own to see if Rebecca's group was there and decided to wait there until I heard from her and to see some of the other groups within the A19 SIG return. A few did show, but we did not stay for long as the wind was a little chilly.
I'm worried about the week ahead as my work schedule is not entirely conducive to training.
Thursday's first aid briefing by Dr Ed proved to be very informative and showed me some of the things Iíve done wrong, like getting up after a fall and riding my bike to hospital in London with a broken arm.
We're half way through the SIG program, and Iíve done approximately 750 miles since 1 March, according to my bike computer.
Week 7, Sunday 13th April 2003
A second Saturday lost to showers in the morning, which is a shame, because it turned out to be a glorious afternoon. Rebecca and I managed to go for a short spin around Manhattan and Brooklyn. Still, the import things are ready, like the apple pie for after today's ride, and the pastry dough for the treacle tart. I got up early on Saturday, just in case the weather forecast had improved and baked the treacle tart.
A slightly earlier start than usual on Sunday, as the distance was going up to 72 miles ñ a varied route through Bergen and Rockland Counties, up to Rockland State Park. Ed mentioned last week something about us doing three laps of Rockland State Park so we could practice and hone our double, rotating pace lines. The group I was in went somewhat off cue sheet on the way up, avoiding, apparently six or seven sizable hills, and we did two laps of the park. I found the hill on 9W, back towards Nyack, fairly easy going and enjoyed our refreshment stop at the "Spoon". Little did I know that I'd overcooked my legs, as I suffered badly on Booth on the say home, even though I was the third to the top. I was beaten by Herb and Tim. Herb actually overtook me about half way up, looking cool, calm and smooth.
Once at the top, Tim and I made quick progress back to the bridge. Tim turned around at one point and said: "Yes, my form's back!î I rode quickly home along Riverside Drive, showered, changed, picked up the apple pie and treacle tart and got a taxi over to the park and my fellow riders sang "Happy Birthday to me". We were joined by Rebecca, and I shared my homemade apple pie and treacle tart with my cycling buddies. They made quick work of the pie, but left me with half the tart, I'm glad to say.
With Passover starting this coming week, Ed told me that he'd heard that Schmorr matzoh was so dry, that it made you "fart dust". I wonder how many patients he's encountered with this condition.
Training this week includes a brutal route from Manhattan to Monticello on Wednesday. In the end, I only did about 52 miles of it, as I was running out of time and I didn't want to make it any harder than it already was for Rebecca to come and find me. I found Skyline Drive fairly awful, about 1.75 miles of 10% to 12%, I'm guessing. If I lived anywhere closer to it, I would do my hill training on it.
Week 8, Saturday 19th April 2003
Rebecca reminded me this past week that when I went to sleep after our first A19 SIG ride, I kept gripping imaginary brake hoods with my hands every few seconds. I remember dreaming I was still in a pace line, and it happened for a couple of nights. I'm glad to say I don't do that any more.
A different bridge to cross this week ñ 59th Street and out into Queens and Nassau County. Today we are to discover the delights of double pace-lining on the Long Island Expressway service road. They say the LIE is the world's largest parking lot. From what Iíve seen of the LIE, I can't help thinking that a more accurate description would be the world's largest permanent construction site. In England, we describe the London orbital motorway, the M25, as the world's busiest car park. It happens to be the busiest road in the whole of Europe and, more often than not, when I fly in and out of Heathrow, it is at a standstill. Oddly enough, the traffic on the LIE today seemed to be flowing smoothly in both directions, probably because I wasn't on it.
Today is also the first ride we've done that has stayed on cue sheet, giving us the opportunity to navigate as well as rotate the pace lines. We are blessed by limited scope for wrong turns, as the route included 12.5 miles of LIE. We are also blessed with clear blue skies, bright sunshine, blossoms and a head East Northeast headwind of about 10-15 mph. It's nice to be in a pace line. After riding through the leafy suburb of Jamaica Estates ñ reminiscent of my native Ealing in west London ñ a sound remarkably like a gun shot rang out from towards the back of the line. Sharon's back inner tube had blown out. The short stop gave me time to top up the fuel tank with a banana and do a bit of stretching.
My curse of dropping water bottles returned this week. I managed to drop my front bottle after a drink and stopped to retrieve it. Unfortunately, I then had to do something of a time trial to get back on. After a mile or so, I was just at the point of getting back onto the back of the pace line when I got held up by a traffic light. It was another three quarters of a mile before I was back on the pace line. But I'd managed to sustain around 22-23 mph on the flats into a headwind solo for 1.75 miles.
Great food at the Nostalgia Diner, and it was nice to meet Ed's mother. I asked her how old Ed had been when he got his first bike, but she couldn't remember.
On the way home, a section of very rough road dislodged by back water bottle. I later learned that Maria Quiroga narrowly missed hitting it. This time Anthony Donato stayed with me to help me get back on the pace line, about a mile or down the road. The speeds back were much higher, and for a long time the pace line was doing around 22 mph on the flats. But we'd dropped Ed. The theory, according to some, was that he had eaten too much at the diner and was cramping. It must suck to be a leader and get dropped. Given my appetite, that is something that could easily happen to me.
Iíve now lost eight pounds since the start of the SIGs and am weighing in at 177 pounds. I'm hoping that if I can keep shedding the pounds, I will find the long climbs much easier. I want to get down to around 163-165 pounds.
Week 9, Sunday 27th April 2003
Nothing to write about this one, as I couldn't do the ride in Connecticut, even though it promised to be one of the prettiest on the whole SIG course.
Week 10, Saturday, 3rd May 2003
I'm breaking out with a cold and feel especially lethargic today. We're supposed to be doing South Mountain Road. I had an aborted attempt at trying part of this route on Thursday and did the first 25 miles to West Nyack and stopped at Planet Bagel & Deli only to discover I'd left my wallet at home. Silly Anthony! They filled my water bottles for me and I rode home.
On Saturday it was cold and overcast and we set off, but as we got nearer the bridge I began to feel progressively worse. I told Keith how I was feeling on the NJ side of the bridge, and he advised me to try and ride through it. It's good advice, and I've been able to do it before. But after we had descended Palisades and ridden through Englewood, I started coughing and couldn't stop and abandoned on mile 12. I felt bad for bailing, but managed to get back up Palisades and went home, laid on the sofa and fell asleep and woke up feeling fairly groggy. I went to bed very early that night and Rebecca read me a story and I then slept solidly for nine hours, something I've not done for ages.
I felt better on Sunday morning and attended an excellent bike maintenance course, courtesy of Dr. Ed and bike handling skills, courtesy of Joe and Anthony D. My bunny hop skills still leave something to be desired, but my slalom efforts around water bottles were pretty good. I've now learned to really throw the weight on the back wheel and break quickly and safely when needs must.
Having missed Saturday's ride, I decided on Sunday I would have a go at it on Monday, solo, as I had the cue sheet, provided I was feeling better, so I declined to go with my fellow Siglets to Piermont after the bike handling skills class.
Fortunately, my work diary was fairly clear for Monday, and I was feeling considerably better, so I decided to have a go at Saturday's ride. I thought I would start off by warming up with a lap in the park, which turned into three and three quarter laps, as I had the crazy idea of getting the mileage up from 80 to 100. While riding through Englewood, I saw a couple on touring bikes at the side of the road asking a pedestrian for directions. They had a lot of gear with them.
I felt much better and enjoyed my bagel stop and then continued on towards South Mountain Road.
I was expecting a major climb the moment I hit South Mountain Road but, instead, I got a descent. It then rolled for a few miles and was basically flat, before crossing Little Tor (that looks steep) before it began to climb. It's a nice little climb and I was treated to the site of an apple orchard in full blossom at the top. For about a quarter of a mile, the rolling Orchard of Complain looked like something out of the Kent countryside in England.
I didn't stop at the orchard, as time was pressing and I had set off very late and wanted to be home before sundown. I rode through busy traffic in Wesley Hills, a large Khassidic community with a big kosher supermarket. School busses were thundering past, two of which got far too close for comfort. The road eventually becomes East Saddle River Road, and it is not a good road to ride on during weekday afternoons when the school buses are out. I was horrified to read about the fate of Larry Schwartz on the message board when I got home. If I had been taller or riding anything other than a road bike my head could easily have been in striking range of a school bus wing mirror.
I had plenty of pocket food with me, so I just made a couple of more stops for water in bottles and bathroom breaks.
Somewhere along East Saddle River Road I encountered a German couple from Stuttgart, riding bikes laden with panniers. One bike was also towing a trailer full of tent and camping equipment. The couple were asking for suggestions as to where they could pitch their tent for the night. I was probably of little help, but they had been in the US for five days and were planning on staying for six to seven months to ride coast-to-coast, via Chicago. I realized it was the same couple I had seen earlier in the day. By now I was probably only about 12 miles from where I'd first seen them some six hours earlier. I wouldn't fancy hills with all that gear.
Thankfully the weather held off, even though it had been overcast all day and I got home at 7:20pm, precisely eight hours after I had set off, with 100.2 miles on the clock and an average speed on the computer of 14.8mph. It had been 15mph until I got back into Manhattan. I felt that a century at this stage would be perfect training for our graduation ride.
Week 11, Saturday, 10 May 2003
Today we are off to Bedford. I've no idea where it is or what it is like. I've once ridden through Bedford in the county of Bedfordshire in England, which is very pretty, so I'm looking forward to this one.
The weather was a little chilly, but the sun was shining and we headed out of Manhattan and over Madison Avenue Bridge, but not before my bum bag (they call them fanny packs over here) started to work its way loose. Ed tried to tighten it, but it soon slipped again. In the end I took everything out of it, stuffed it into my pockets and abandoned it. A little confusion emerged outside a McDonalds. Some had used the opportunity of my mechanical problems to take a bathroom break and then part of one group, with a leader, left, leaving the others in the bathroom. Those left behind, which included a leader, were suitably unimpressed.
As it turned out, the cue sheet was hopelessly flawed in two places, and we had an unexpected visit to Port Chester, thanks to a turn that was marked "right" instead of "left".
But we eventually found ourselves in pretty roads, passing enormous mansions with huge grounds and the group split up by a hill. I was busting for a pee and sorely tempted to use the front garden of one of these fantastic houses and was with Jim. We managed a wrong turn, but somebody doing their front garden gave us directions to Rt22, just after we had climbed a short but tortuous hill. We were on 22 for what seemed like ages, rolling up and down before finally descending into Bedford; a pretty little town with a somewhat New England feel to it. We picnicked on the green, which looked perfect for a cricket match. Ah, what a shame hardly anybody plays the noble sport here. With the way the England cricket team is going, I'm not sure too many people will be playing it here in future.
Still Britain is renowned for creating all the best sports, industries and inventions and giving it to the rest of the world to beat us over the head with them: cricket, football (soccer), rugby, trains, the pneumatic tyre; shipbuilding
We had around 11 more miles on the clock than we should have. The other group abandoned the cue sheet and made up its own route. I told Ed that one day, when I had nothing better to do, I would reride this route and correct the cue sheet and submit it.
Bedford, NY is a pretty little village. It's much smaller than the Bedford in England, but every bit as charming, in its own way.
A group of us decided to ride back to White Plains on Rt. 22 and get the train back to NY as time was pressing and people needed to be back home by 6pm. Ed and a few others decided to ride to a closer station, as they had to be back home even earlier, and another group rode home.
When we got to White Plains, about 20 miles south, Bessie, Catherine and I abandoned plans to ride back to the city as none of us knew the roads well enough. Much to our amusement, we found Ed on the same train, who related the bad news about Susan and Rob's spill on gravel.
We all had a great night on Wednesday with A 19 SIG dinner, and it was great to see Alison again for the first time since her spill, back in March. I loved the Gelato afterwards. I've never had that before, which makes up for my frustration of practically no training this week, thanks to work.
The forecast is looking less than good for Saturday, which could threaten my ride to Montauk.
Week 12, Saturday 17 May 2003
The big day is finally here. The forecasts on Friday looked like it would be a Sunday ride, then on Friday night the forecasts improved and this morning, it's cold, but dry, with the promise of sunshine in the afternoon. I was convinced we would be riding when I got up at 5:30 and was surprised to see the cancellation notice just after 6am on the notice board. I looked to see when the other groups were going to postpone. No, they were riding.
Rebecca was riding, so I thought I should ride too. I saw the notice about John Z's planned hill repeats of Bear Mountain and went to GCT for the 09:53 train to Garrison and met up with John, Hank Schiffman, Peter OíReilley and Carol Wood.
When we got off the train, we quickly fell into one of the smoothest PACELINE I've ever ridden towards the bridge ñ nice short pulls at the front and everyone keeping together tightly. By the time we got to the bottom of Bear Mountain, the sun was shining, the sky was blue, the birds were singing and we were hot with too many layers on. The temperature was warmer than the forecast, so we peeled off a few layers, stowed them and began our first descent. I had been told 4.75 miles from 9W up to the top of Perkins, ascending 1,300ft. I stayed with Hank up to the traffic circle, then he moved ahead on the hairpin bend. John and Peter had zoomed up the hill and left the rest of us for dust.
I'd only been up Bear Mountain once before in the car and three quarters of the way up on foot and did not remember Perkins too well. There is one steep section of Perkins, which lasts about three quarters of a mile, which messed up my rhythm, and it took me a while to recover. Just after I got onto Perkins, I saw the A19 Classics coming down. I recognized Melissa Bybee, but nobody else. I didn't say hello, as I didn't want to distract her on her descent.
The views got better, and it was nice to be looking down on Bear Mt. Bridge, and then the gradient reduced and I was at the top, about 26 minutes after I began the climb. I had used 39x19 before I hit Perkins, then 39x21 and 39x23 (my lowest) on the steep bit. Carol arrived shortly after me at the top and we admired the views and stopped for photo opportunities and Hank pointed out the Manhattan skyline in the distance.
We waited 25 minutes, made our first descent carefully, as the road was in shocking condition, then regrouped for our next attempt.
The second time I got up much better and recalled the bit about breathing in Lance Armstrong's and Chris Carmichael's book. The idea is that when it comes to climbing, you need to take deeper and slower breaths and concentrate on exhaling fairly quickly. That way you fill your lungs completely. It actually worked on the steepest bit and, when I tried it, I saw my heart rate drop from 173 down to 163, without any loss of speed or gradient. My second attempt may have been quicker, although I forgot to time it, but it was certainly a lot more comfortable, which was entirely down to the breathing.
I decided not to join the others for the third hill repeat and the ride back to Manhattan as I wanted to save myself for tomorrow, so I rode back to Garrison and got the train home and then went and got my hair cut, to be smart for the A19 group picture. But on our second descent, Hank stopped for a photo opportunity of Bear Mountain Bridge and Anthony's nose.
Bear Mountain is excellent training for the Alps. I wished I had it to train on when I did the Alps in 1999. Unfortunately, there is nothing like Bear Mountain anywhere in the southeast of England.
In 1999 I climbed the Col de la Madeleine (2,000m or 6,560ft above sea level) in precisely two hours. We started the climb at 356m (1,167ft) above sea level, leaving 1,644m (5,392 ft) of climbing, which is the equivalent of slightly more than four ascents of Bear Mt. from 9W (from the south). If I'd been able to maintain that rate, that would mean I could climb the Col de la Madeleine in 104 minutes, but without the benefit of rests. I feel pleased, though, because I was around 14 pounds lighter in 1999 than I am now, so I guess that means I'm stronger now.
Sunday, 18 May 2003
The big day has arrived, the weather looks great, but I'm nervous. Did I overdo it yesterday? Will everyone be upset by my posting on the notice board? Will I get dropped?
Seamus was well kitted out, with half a dozen sachets of Gu taped to his top tube to grab while riding, with more in his pockets. Maybe that's why he's so damned strong. He really rides like an animal at times. I think he should be forced to eat six cheeseburgers before riding, just to slow him down.
Thankfully, my nerves diminished as soon as we started riding. Tim made us laugh when we stopped at a red light and he went to a vending machine to buy a newspaper. I shouted to him, "Are you going to do the crossword while climbing up Bear Mountain?" We met Jim on the NJ side of the bridge and we decided which route we were going to take and how many groups. One group was going non-stop to Stony Point. I can't do that on two bottles of water, so I was with the group that stopped at Nyack. Chris Teager missed the turning, but found us at the Spoon. We stopped just long enough for water, to pee and for me to buy a Cliff bar, which I ate on the move and then tackled the Rockland Lake climb.
The blossoms, the vibrant greens and reds of the trees looked spectacular. The variety of colours in the trees here in spring is much greater than in England. I love the vibrant greens when the leaves look so fresh, especially on Silver Maples. I spotted a little chipmunk on the side of the road, while climbing Rockland, perched up on his hind legs, but I don't think anyone else saw it.
The Rockland Lake climb is steeper than anything on Bear Mountain, and we regrouped on the other side of it. I managed to phone Rebecca, who had agreed to be our unofficial team car for the day to ask her to buy some lube for Chris Teagerís chain, which was squeaking like a mouse. Before long, we found ourselves in Stony Point and at a bagel store for a quick fuel stop. The other group was still there, and we left only shortly after them.
We got split up again on the last climb before bear Mt, which is long, but at least it is a steady gradient. Again, I put the deep breathing technique into operation, which worked well. I was happy to have pulled Jim up this one after all of his excellent leadership.
We regrouped at the turning for Bear Mt and began our ascent. I was with Jim until we got to Perkins, then found myself passing him. I hadn't realized he had a triple. The deep breathing paid off again, although I was a little bit slower than yesterday and feeling some lactic acid in the legs.
Jim arrived not long after me, and once we were all up top, we gathered for group photos, were treated to an excellent display of headstanding by Bessie and admired the views. There were much more people here this time; lots of cars and motorbikes. Then Rebecca and Harry arrived up top, replenished several of us with water and gave Chris the lube ñ ah, at last, no more squeaking.
I tried to warn everyone that there was a lot of gravel on the road going down and Rob told everyone to be careful. So I was very shocked to see that Sharon had fallen ahead of me. We've just been really unlucky this year and had way too many crashes. Rebecca had descended and I called her to come back up and take Sharon's bike. In the end, Rebecca and Harry followed the ambulance and heroically took Sharon and her bike home after she was discharged.
After Sharon was safely in the ambulance, Rob, Jim and I continued our ascent and a motorbike came dangerously close to taking Rob out, overtaking while coming up Perkins at high speed. I was proud of my fellow leaders and Siglets who did everything by the book insofar as directing traffic and doing all the right things for Sharon until the ambulance arrived.
We regrouped on Seven Lakes Drive and stopped about 12 miles down the road for water and then continued along, aided by a tailwind until Chris T's back tyre punctured. Jim and I helped him fix it, and we could hear the others, 200 yards down the road shout, "Lets go." Eventually we were moving again, and I came out with the joke. How many men does it take to change a flat? Answer: Two Americans and one Englishman - the Englishman to make the tea. It caused a few laughs and even Chris saw the funny side of it. We were separated from the main group and we were trying to chase them down in excess of 30mph ñ crazy!
Eventually we reached a deli near Sloatsburg, where we had lunch. It did not come a moment too soon. Before I'd even set foot in it, I said: "This is the best deli I've ever been to." After lunch, we were altogether on 17 pacelining quite well. But 17 is a horrible road ñ no other word for it. I was glad to turn off it. After a few rolling roads, we found ourselves on fast, smooth, newly resurfaced roads, and the paceline was more like a peleton. We were no longer A19s, but A25s and people were suffering at the back and the paceline was concertinaed all over the place. Not textbook stuff, but driven by a desire to get home as quickly as possible.
After a quick water stop in Hohokus, we soon found ourselves on Oradell Ave ñ home was becoming tantalizingly close, then it was Gloria's turn to puncture on her back tyre. Jim and I helped her fix it, but we didn't boot it and the same hole punctured her new tube again 16 miles later. This time we booted it and eventually we crawled over GWB and made our weary ways home.
Jim left us near his home and Maria disappeared too. She wasn't feeling well and our crazy pace didn't help.
We'd had word that Sharon was ok, but was likely to have a lovely black eye, and Rebecca got home about 20 minutes after I did.
Rebecca's father cooked supper for us, as neither of us had any energy, and I slept soundly for eight hours.
On Monday I was amused to find my picture on the home page of the NYCC's website, for the second time in two months. It had been taken by Hank on our hill repeats on Saturday.
I've been expecting some comments on the message board and was surprised by Tuesday (20 May) to find no one had commented. I'm glad I did a short recovery ride yesterday, and plan to ride to Piermont or Nyack this afternoon and take advantage of the good weather.
Now what am I going to do? Well at least I have the Berkshires to look forward to, with a typical English weather forecast of rain and showers. I'll feel right at home riding up in all that rain.
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