The Snake

Snake Creek Gap Time Trial is a two race series covering 50 miles of rocky ridgeline singletrack in the mountains of North Georgia in the dead of winter - January 4 and February 8, 2020. It's hard to imagine a more difficult 50 mile race; naturally, I've wanted to race this course ever since I heard about it seven years ago. I've always lived just a bit too far to justify it but not now.

I haven't ridden much this past month due to several factors: the days are shorter, it got cold all of a sudden, job searching is time consuming and a bit depressing, and I've been playing with my 3D printer a lot. Riding motivation tends to fluctuate anyways; I think it's good to take a break every now and then to reset. But, with the first race just a little over a month away, it's time to get back at it. Once again, I'll be racing the single speed, because thumbs and suspension don't work well in the cold anyways. Very excite.

Single Speed Endurance Racing

While it pretty much guarantees street cred and respect, endurance racing on a single speed probably isn't has hard as most people think. In the right conditions, it may even be easier than riding with gears.

Basic physics says riding up a hill is the same amount of work, regardless of gear ratio, or speed for that matter. Biomechanics, however, says it isn't quite that simple. Everyone has an optimum cadence, but cadence efficiency is roughly bell-curve shaped and changes with speed/intensity (from personal experience). When trying to ride as fast as possible, say in an XC race, cadence becomes extremely important. Picking the right gear ratio is critical to winning. Similarly, in ultra-endurance racing, picking a gear that you can maintain hour after hour, day after day is essential to having a good time. But, there's a grey area in between. If you aren't on the limit, and you're ok with going a bit slower on the flats or a bit harder up the hills, a gear ratio that's kind of close to ideal is fine. Even though my ideal cadence is probably 80 - 85rpm, anything from 50 - 100rpm is fine in small doses. Efficiency drops off quickly outside of that range, however.

For example, I recently raced 100km of gravel on the single speed, riding a 32x16 gear ratio because I was too lazy to swap chainrings. I've run this ratio on flat single track, but generally, the lowest I would run on gravel is 38x18. Too my surprise I got 4th overall. With that gear, I could go uphill faster and/or easier and still spin up to 17/18mph on the flats. For a while now, I've wanted to build a gravel bike, but that course was rough enough that I was glad to be on a mountain bike. I probably could've finished a bit faster with a higher gear, but it wasn't really a concern.

Another factor to consider is that the direct chain-line of a single speed is more efficient than a chain winding through a derailleur. So, given the same cadence and speed, a single speed is actually easier. The difference may be small, but it adds up over several hours.

In conclusion, pick an appropriate gear for the course hills and race intensity, combine this with increased chain-line efficiency and the facts that there's far less to go wrong with a single speed and they're virtually unaffected by mud, and you get the ideal weapon of choice for endurance racing.

Edit: I'd also like to add that single speeds force you to be more dynamic on the bike - seated spinning on the flats, standing on the climbs (sometimes even walking), "resting" on the descents. It's good to move around and stretch; cranking out a constant cadence in a seated position for hours on end will surely lead to a painful finish.

Nashville -> Tupelo -> Oxford

Less than a week after finishing the TNGA, I thought it’d be a good idea to ride 260 miles from Nashville to Oxford via the Natchez Trace. The idea came about when I was trying to figure out the most cost effective way to move the contents of my storage unit in Oxford to my apartment in Nashville. Uhaul charges by the mile, so driving round-trip (my original plan) would be the most expensive option. A one-way trip would be a little over half the cost, so how do I get myself to Oxford? I could’ve rented a car, but those companies charge a heavy fee for one-way trips. It wouldn’t save much over driving the Uhaul both ways. I could ride to Oxford, but I only had my mountain bikes at the time. If I’d had my gravel setup for the single speed, I might’ve considered it. The third option was to drive my car to Oxford, drive a Uhaul back, then ride my road bike back to Oxford to get my car, and that’s what Pete and I did.

The ride started off easy. We had planned to roll at 6am, but it was closer to 7am. The first 20 miles cut through downtown, then took some quiet roads to the northern terminus of the Trace. The first part of the Trace was awesome; we saw more cyclists than cars. The road wandered through rolling green hills mile after mile with almost no traffic. After 55 miles we stopped at a Dollar General to refuel; I noticed a cut in the sidewall of my tire with the tube just barely bulging out. When the heck did that happen? I put a dollar bill in there to contain the tube, fairly confident that it would hold; still 205 miles to go.

More rolling green hills awaited us. This section of the Trace contains a lot of false flats – they look flat, but you’re only going 13 mph and feel like you're dragging a boat anchor. Then you’ll be going “down”, cruising at 26 mph, but it still appears flat or nearly so. My GPS showed 1.5 – 2% grades.

At mile 110 we stopped in Collinwood, TN for lunch at a Mexican restaurant. A burrito grande really hit the spot. The next section drops in elevation a good bit which brought our average speed up; still we weren’t really making good time. I calculated our ETA every couple hours, and it kept getting pushed back – 10pm, 11pm, 1am. Maybe getting a hotel in Tupelo wasn’t such a bad idea. It’s not like there was anything other than my car waiting in Oxford; we had to sleep somewhere. On a particularly steep downhill, I thought my tire was getting a bit squirrelly; no, we were just cruising at 42 mph. That's all.

At mile 145 we stopped at a gas station; dark clouds loomed ahead. Soon after, the rain started as a drizzle and turned into a steady pour. We were still three hours from Tupelo. The sun went down. The rain continued. Pete got a flat. Ugh. Unlike the TNGA, there was no bailout option. No one was watching a tracker; no one would come get us if we couldn’t go on. We just had to push through it. At one point I glanced at my GPS to see 197 miles; I thought, "Holy shit that's a long way!" As we neared Tupelo, the rain finally let up. I think we checked into a hotel around 9:30pm; I made a beer run, showered, ordered pizza. A change of clothes would’ve been nice, but those were waiting in my car. We clocked 210 miles for the day, the farthest I’ve ever ridden but not the longest.

The next day went smoothly, other than being a bit sore. Just another 60 miles to Oxford on much more interesting roads. We made a victory lap around The Square, changed clothes, went to the coffee shop, book store, etc. before making the drive back.

Lessons learned:
While road touring is much easier on the body overall, the pain is more concentrated. My road bike saddle is fine for a few hours but gets really uncomfortable after that. My hands and feet weren’t ready for this kind of mileage either.

Always have a solid plan B and a plan C. Know where the hotels are and how to get there. Bring camping gear and extra clothes if civilization is too far off. This is especially important when your destination may be unattainable. Ideally, have someone available to pick you up if you can’t go on.

I probably won't buy those tires again. The hole in the sidewall looks more like an abrasion rather than a cut, probably happened in the back of the Uhaul. Still, the durability seems to be lacking.

While the Natchez Trace is a beautiful, low traffic road, it gets incredibly boring after several hours. I’ve thought about using it in future trips, but now I may reconsider.

TNGA Ride Report

358 miles
41,000 feet climbing
64 hours
1 gear

For those three days, riding was life.

No pics from the race; this was on a shakedown ride.

Day 1
I drank coffee and ate my over-night oats on the shuttle to the start. There would be no time for the morning paperwork. I started near the back but moved towards the front over the first couple hours while doing my best to take it easy. Entering Darnell Creek, my sunglasses were hanging on my jersey collar. I thought, "I'm going to lose these on this trail", and I did. Luckily, a guy a few minutes behind me found them, and I was able to get them back at the first stop in Dillard. I started off carrying ~3500 calories, what I thought it would take to get to Helen, which included 1.5 Chik-fil-a sandwiches, 4 Clif bars, 4 granola bars, a stick of beef jerky, a Payday, 2 bags of cashews, and 4 caffeinated GUs. Turns out I didn't even need half of that. I'd based my expected calorie/hour intake off of averages and digestion rates rather than experience. Now I know I probably only need 125 cal/hr. Still, carrying too much is better than running out.

I saw other riders fairly often, but riding the single speed meant I really had to ride my own pace. Talking with another rider at a water stop around mile 62, I asked if he had any goals for today. His response, "What do you mean by today?" My goals included getting down Hickory Nut in the daylight and getting to Vogal before crashing for the night. Riding a rigid single speed means rough descents are as bad as the climbs, sometimes worse. I took a beating coming down Trey; Hickory Nut was ok except for a few pedal strikes. I was looking forward to the next ~20 miles of smooth pavement even though it included Hogpen. I rolled into the gas station in Helen at 7:30pm in 7th place.

I felt surprisingly good at this point, much better than last time. I think this was due to staying on top of food/hydration. I wasn't all that hungry but made myself eat a little anyway and drink a coke. That caffeine boost would keep me going for several more hours.

Even though Hogpen sucked and took a solid hour to climb, it was a beautiful night, and there were some great overlooks and views of the sky. Going down the backside, a bear cub crossed in front of me right at the edge of my light. I don't know where momma was, but I wasn't sticking around to find out. Cruising on towards Vogal, I intended to check the time and consider stopping for the night when I got there, but when I saw the sign for the state park, I didn't even slow down. I went up and over Wolfpen and arrived at Cooper's Creek, mile 135, at 12:30am.

I still felt good and could've kept going. But pushing past this point meant I wouldn't hit any stores until Mulberry Gap at mile 212. I wasn't prepared logistically for that, so I slept in my emergency blanket until Cooper's opened at 6am.

Day 2
While the emergency blanket was warm enough, it also trapped all the moisture, so when I got up, I was wet and cold. I sat around drinking coffee until the sausage, egg and cheese biscuits were ready. I was very grateful for this, as it finally got my digestive track moving. I ate one biscuit, took one for the road, and started riding again around 7:30am.

Riding along the Toccoa River on a cool morning as the sun rose over the mountains behind me made me realize what an awesome event this is. The simple but intense existence of riding in silence for hours on end from sunrise to sunset to moonrise and under the starlight is a very meditative and spiritual experience. At times it's like the brain runs out of thoughts, and your world only consists of the bike, the trail, and pedalling.

I passed up the Iron Bridge Cafe and headed to the Aska Trails and Stanley Gap. After some awesome singletrack and a bit of hike-a-bike, I popped out on the smooth gravel road heading downhill towards Cherry Log. It's always exciting hitting ~35mph on a gravel road because any emergency maneuver just isn't going to happen and will end with you on the ground. I arrived at the Pink Pig, mile 165, right as they opened at 11am and stopped for a pulled pork sandwich and a chance to sit in the AC for a bit. I checked trackleaders and saw quite a few people had passed me in the night putting me somewhere around 14th. I wasn't terribly concerned though. A top ten finish would be cool, but I knew I had to do my own thing to finish at all. Pushing harder would likely get me in trouble.

I headed out 30 minutes later for the long trek to Mulberry Gap at mile 212. Highway 2 towards Dyer Gap seemed to go on forever as I spun along at 11 mph. I knew this would be a long stretch, but for some reason I didn't think about water until I was approaching South Fork. I had a bottle and a half left, and it was at least three more hours to Mulberry. My options were to get water on South Fork, preferably upstream of the horse poop or wait until I got to the top of Bear Creek. I decided to wait. Riding through South Fork, a big ole black bear showed me his ass as he ran off down the trail and into the woods. I stopped for a minute to let him get away, then proceeded cautiously, ringing my bell as I rode along. Of all the places to treat/filter water I didn't think it'd be so close to Mulberry. Iodine tablets made the water taste terrible, but it got me through Pinhoti 1 and 2.

I arrived at Mulberry Gap around 6:30pm dehydrated and hurting. I had felt pretty good up until a few hours ago, and that's when I realized that getting dehydrated after 20-something hours of riding makes every ache and pain ten times worse. I didn't want to stay there too long, but I'd have to stay long enough to rehydrate and charge my lights and GPS. It's difficult to leave the comfort of Mulberry. But, I wanted to finish Monday night, and the clock was ticking. So at 10:30pm, after drinking enough to make me pee twice and taking in a caffeinated GU and an Ibuprofen, I headed out into the darkness to put in several more hours.

My goal was to make it to Dalton, sleep at the start of The Snake, then hit it in the morning. I exited the single track around 1:30am and started the ~20 miles of road towards Dalton. Thirty minutes later, I got really sleepy and started looking for/thinking of places to sleep. The ditch sure had a nice angle to it, like a recliner. A bridge or overpass would be good for rain protection. Near any public building or park where I wouldn't be bothered and wouldn't bother anyone else would be ok too. But, I was in flat country and none of these things were around. Then, I passed a church. Hey, I thought, one of those would work. In The South, one is never more than a mile from a church. So I stopped at the next one I saw, laid down in a gravel/dirt area around back, and promptly slept in my clothes - shoes, helmet, gloves, and all - no emergency blanket this time.

Day 3
At 5am, I got cold and decided it was time to start pedalling again. I stopped at a gas station for coffee, a chicken biscuit, and a sausage, egg and cheese biscuit. I sat on the curb, eating breakfast and watching the morning commuters go by. At the start of The Snake, around 7am, I laid down for ~15 minutes to let that coffee kick in a little more. The next 30 miles were hell - mostly unrideable uphills followed by rough, slow descents. Some grades that should've been rideable just weren't worth the effort. On a particularly long descent, I was secretly hoping to slash a tire so I could call it quits and not have to ride anymore. I laid down for another 15 minutes to let my frustrations settle. Did I mention it was hotter than hell by this point, and I was practically swimming through the humidity? I came across some "Trail Magic" of a couple cases of water near a trailhead where I attempted to rehydrate, though I still had a bottle of my own.

As I approached the next water stop, a horse barn at mile 284, I felt rain drops. The sky looked decent, but dark clouds were hiding somewhere. A crack of thunder. The closer I got to the horse barn, the harder it rained until it was a full-on down pour. I went from overheated to shivering uncontrollably in about 5 minutes. When I finally got there, it was raining sideways, the horses in the pasture were freaking out, and I took shelter behind a hay bale under a large overhang, hugging my knees to my chest to warm up. I drank a couple bottles of water waiting out the storm. Being wet and cold brought about some new aches and pains, and I decided it was time for another Ibuprofen.

When I was pretty sure it was over, I started riding again, still soaked and shivering. I thought about trying to cut out/make a vest from my emergency blanket, but I knew I'd warm up on the next hill a few miles down the road.

I counted down the miles to Highway 27 (mile 302), where there is a gas station a little off route. But when I got there, I still had plenty of water, so I ate a soggy granola bar and pressed on. I was ready to get off the ridgeline and onto the rail-trail. The next section stretched on and on but included some fairly nice singletrack. Eventually, I hit the switchbacks that led off the ridge. I was finally out of the mountains and in the flats that led to Coosa - mile 326, Cave Spring - mile 343, and the finish - mile 358. I was fairly dry at this point, and it never really got hot again after the rain. I focused on maintaining a high cadence to keep my speed up. Riding at 11 mph vs. 10 mph meant I would be done 10% sooner.

I passed up the first gas stations in Coosa, thinking there were some fast food places around the corner. I was mistaken. Great, another hour and a half to Cave Spring. After an hour I came across another gas station where I stopped for a coke and a bag of chips. I put the coke in my feed bag and chips in my top tube bag and kept rolling on the now dark, country roads.

I rolled through Cave Spring a little after 10pm, plenty of time to finish before midnight. Up until this point, I felt pretty good. I was running on caffeine and adrenaline in anticipation of finishing. I had my shit together. If the finish had been here it would've been all too easy.

Shortly after Cave Spring, the route takes a turn onto the last few miles of singletrack. I saw two trees with double blazes indicating a turn in the route, neither of which were the right way. After searching the side of the road for 30 minutes, I was ready to swear the trail didn't exist. I didn't have the food, water, or most importantly, the battery power to be screwing around at this point. My headlight was dying, my GPS was dying, my phone was dying, my back-up battery was low. I finally doubled back enough for my GPS to re-draw the route; that's when I saw yet a third tree with double blazes and finally, a trail. If the singletrack hadn't have been so much fun I would've been pissed.

In a rush to finish before my electronics started failing, I was riding way too fast given the circumstances. I caught glimpses of the trail as my handlebar light bounced over the rollers and around the turns. I let my brain piece it together and make up what I didn't see. As the trail dropped out onto a paved road, my foot clipped something that didn't move, my rear tire slid out, and I realized I couldn't save it a moment too late. I fell to the side of the trail hitting my face on what felt like a rock but could've been a log. I felt warm fluid on my face instantly. So there I was, I'd been at it for nearly 19 hours on 3 hours of sleep and now had blood running down my face. Fucking fantastic. I didn't know how bad it was, but I knew the quickest way to first aid was to finish. I made sure my tires where still inflated, still spun, and hopped back on.

Another short stretch of single track put me out on a dirt road where I was soon pursued by a pack of dogs that I couldn't see. I needed to get off the bike quick or I was going to freaking lose it. I watched my GPS closely, anticipating the next turn and the Silver Comet rail-trail, but all it showed was the same dirt road stretching to the top of the screen. I started wondering if I'd wandered into a version of hell where I get to ride and race all day but never finish and never get where I'm going. After an eon had passed, I turned onto the Silver Comet. I checked the time: midnight on the dot. Dammit.

I crossed the state line a few minutes later in the pitch black, no one around, no sounds other than the cicadas, not even enough phone battery for a finish line pic, no distractions from the joy of finishing. An anti-climactic but suitable ending to the most epic and intense adventure.

I ended up in 5th place overall (several people ahead of me had bailed), 1st single speed. Finishing right at 64 hours according to my spot tracker, it seems I now have the single speed record for the course, by 42 minutes. That was unexpected but really cool. Luckily my nose wasn't broken and wasn't cut as bad as it felt, took a while to stop bleeding though.

Getting off the Fence

Against my better judgment, I've committed to the Trans North Georgia. A few nights ago, I awoke at 2:30am after dreaming about the race. I laid there for probably an hour thinking about strategy, the route, and how I can't recall the pain. Waking up the next morning, I realized a decision had to be made, and I'm going for it. Despite a lack of training (though there's something to be said for quality vs. quantity), I think I'm ready for it. I'm certainly no worse off than last time, although riding rigid and single speed definitely won't make things easier. The rig seems lighter; though, I don't have the data to quantify it. But, I have made some changes to gear selection:

Gear List:
Eno rain fly
Khumbu rain jacket
extra socks, underwear, and gloves
sunscreen
anti-chafe cream
emergency blanket
waterproof matches
iodine water purification tablets
Platypus 3L hydration bladder
24oz water bottle x 3
Niterider helmet light
Light-Motion 200 handlebar light
battery charger cables
external back-up battery (upgraded to 10.4 Ah)
two tubes
pump and CO2
bike multitool
tire levers
one set of brake pads
two masterlinks
chain lube
zip ties
duct tape

I'm aiming for the same goals as last time. I think being able to navigate more efficiently will help me attain them, so long as I can quickly escape the gravity well that is Mulberry Gap.

"I'll carry enough food to get me through the first 100 miles or so, possibly picking up a few snacks at the Top of Georgia Hostel [no longer an option] at the 54 mile mark. I'll carry on to Helen, at 97 miles, eat dinner, then press on to Wolfpen Gap [Vogal State Park] at 116 miles, roughly 1/3 of the way through. I'll likely camp out there, then press on to Cherry Log, 165 miles, for lunch on Sunday. Next, it's on to Mulberry Gap, at 212 miles, for dinner and to recharge batteries. I'll likely carry on that evening to Ramhurst, 234 miles, to camp. I'll restock in Dalton, 250 miles, then race to the finish which is 327 miles according to the cue sheets and 313 according to the GPS. [now 358 miles]"

If all goes well, I should finish late Monday night. Tracking can be found at http://trackleaders.com/tnga19

The Midwest

While the Midwest has it’s ups and downs, it is not where I want to be. I'm not alone either, as the Illinois population dropped by 45k last year - the fifth straight year of population decline. Below are my thoughts at various times over the last 10 months, in no particular order.


Back-roads of the Heartland

It’s been a long time since I’ve explored anything new. School, work, and a student budget can be pretty limiting, but that chapter is over. It is the end of an era; r.i.p. Ole Miss Cycling. But, the next chapter is just beginning.

I don’t think Indiana is on anyone’s riding list, for good reason, but since I’m here, the chance to explore new roads is enticing nonetheless. The first thing (and sometimes the only thing) one notices in Indiana is the corn. It’s everywhere. Every somewhat level patch of ground is planted with corn, or soybeans. But between the amber waves of grain, are beautiful hardwoods, and if you’re lucky, you can find a swooping descent on a tree-lined road that dips down to a creek before climbing up the next hill. Other roads gain elevation imperceptibly, like 200 feet in 20 miles, until you near the top where you can see for miles – endless rows of corn and trees in the distance. Taking a detour off of a busy highway, I wound up on seldom-traveled gravel roads that create a grid through the maize (pun intended). I was reminded what it’s like to ride through the back-country, miles from civilization. To see a path unfold for the first time. Where the destination is not the same as the start. I was reminded of adventure.


Ready for Change

I realized the other day that I haven’t ridden the single speed since last July. I’ve ridden trails eight times in the last eight months. It was a sad moment, but the Inbred is patiently waiting in storage while I’m working “on the road” in the Midwest. I wasn’t looking forward to coming here, but it was a good opportunity to make some money and to get “on my feet” so to speak. I’ve reached that point and beyond, and my reasons for staying here are dwindling. I’ve built an emergency fund, fixed my car, and saved up to cover my next move and job search. Even though the work is fine, this job won’t work out in the long run, and it’s not advancing my career. It’s scheduled to finish at the end of March but will likely get extended. By how much will determine whether or not I stick around. I’d like to see the job through, but I’m itching to move back south and get on with my career (and life). Even so, I’m glad to have experienced the Midwest, it was something new and different, if a bit bland. I can say with certainty it is not where I want to live, though I’ve only seen a small part.


Terre Haute, IN

While the country side is decent enough, Terre Haute is not. Maybe it’s a lack of parks, trails, and forests. Maybe it’s a lack of culture. Maybe it’s the evenly spaced grid of shitty, narrow roads with no sidewalks and no shoulder. The city may as well be gray. The trees aren’t quite as green as the Deep South. When I leave I don’t want to be reminded of this place.


Peoria, IL

Peoria is almost ok. It would be if it weren’t for the crappy weather and roads. The road riding is decent out of town and there are several trail systems nearby. The problem with road riding is getting out of the sprawl zone. The city is made up of a grid of 4-lane, 40+ mph streets with very few secondary, connecting roads. What’s worse is that nearly every expansion joint has pot holes big enough to destroy a bike wheel. A full suspension mountain bike isn’t overkill. Additionally, many drivers think bikes don’t belong in the road and will honk and/or angrily yell explicatives to get on the sidewalk. I’m sure the trails are a blast in the summer. I only got a few rides in before the first snow. A fat bike would be fun for the first part of winter, but once the freeze-thaw cycles starts, all packed snow turns to ice. One thing the city does have going for it is a nice rail-trail that runs from the north side of town all the way to downtown. Unfortunately it is not maintained in winter. There are a few attempts at building separated bike lanes, but they’re basically just big sidewalks and don’t alleviate any of the issues associated with riding on regular sidewalks. Other than that, the bars/restaurants are good, there are lots of parks and short hiking trails, and the geography is pretty cool if you know where to look.

-Update: It’s mid-May, there was a brief period where the trails were in fantastic shape, but the constant rain has been a real buzz-kill. It’s bad enough putting up with a shitty winter, but a shitty spring/summer is no better. I can’t wait to get the hell out of here.


Conclusion

It seems ironic that Terre Haute has a much better cycling scene than Peoria even though it’s less than half the size. The few group rides I’ve seen advertised around Peoria are 15-17 mph, ~20 miles. I suppose I could’ve ridden my mountain bike with them. There are at least four groups in Peoria, but two are more of advocacy groups, while the other two only have short, slow rides occasionally. In contrast, the bike shop in Terre Haute has a very active club, hosting social events, races, and regular gravel, trail, and road rides. They even had a few events in the winter. In addition, it’s much easier to get in/out of town, and there are a lot of options for road routes, even if they are mostly flat and straight.

I’ve been ready to move south for three months now. I was really counting on getting out of here in May to ramp up my training for the TNGA; now it’s looking like the end of June. July will be hot and sticky. I’m not sure my training will be where it needs to be, especially with a serious lack of trail time.

Trails and TNGA Training

April was yet another slow month for riding due to traffic and travelling. I'm finding ways to overcome these obstacles though by bringing my mountain bike to work and going to the trails from there, and refining my road routes to the quietest roads. Last week was an exception, however; I logged over 12 hours of ride time (my biggest week in the last year). I finally decided that I couldn't put off training for the TNGA any longer. There is still time, but I've got to start now.

Last week included two trail rides at Independence Park, which is turning out to be my favorite trail system in the area. Unlike Wildlife Prairie Park, it's free and difficult enough to be low key. It reminds me of Oxford; the trails are older, tight, rooty, and non-IMBA approved. The descents are flowy but rough, putting all of my suspension to use. And they don't come easily; the climbs are steep and punchy and sometimes technical. It's a great place to build technical skills and strength; a sharp contrast to my aerobic efforts on the road. Variety is the best training.

Last week also included a century around Peoria. It was a good bit slower than my last century ride in Terre Haute, 17.8 vs 19.5 mph, but contained significantly more elevation and a strong headwind in the second half. I'm planning to ride it again in a couple weeks, hopefully with less wind. Once again, I'm trying train my body to burn more fat, fewer carbs. Running on carbs alone, the average person would need equal amounts of ride time and rest time. Burning fat extends the ride time significantly. Long, slow distance is a great way to do this, from what I've read, along with fasted rides in the morning.

Today I learned that the Top of Georgia Hostel will be closed during the TNGA this year. Last time it was a crucial lunch stop on the first day after 50 miles. Now, the first stop will be Helen at ~100 miles (10 - 12 hours). I can refill my water at creek crossings, but food is another story. I'll have to plan a little more carefully this time.

Spring

Train
My winter/early spring training has been... sporadic... as weather and motivation fluctuate. One week in particular I hit it really hard with weights, running, and riding, before and after work, and was exhausted by Friday - slept eleven hours that night. The following "rest" week quickly turned into a do-nothing week when the weather took a turn for the worse. I had a good routine of exercising before work, but with the time change and warmer weather, longer quality rides after work are more appealing. My intentions don't always pan out, however. Evening traffic seems to be getting worse as the weather gets better, and even though it's only bad for the few miles in and out of town, it's enough to deter me some days. On the bright side, we're getting dangerously close to mountain bike season (a phrase I hope to never use again), and I won't hesitate to drive to the trails after work.

Sorry for the inside pic; too busy going fast when I'm outside.

Rebuild
The road bike has been long over-due for some TLC. Since building it nearly four years ago (with a lot of used parts), it's kind of been neglected. Initially I intended to rebuild it all at once, but switching job locations (in October) meant my new wheels were returned to sender (in China) before I could pick them up. I finally received them at my new place just a few weeks ago. It's just as well though, as I wouldn't want to subject them to the Midwest Winter. I did actually need new wheels though. The previous set was ten years old, and the wear indicator on the rear wheel disappeared about two years ago. I'm sure there's a safety margin built in, but I felt like I was starting to push my luck. The front wheel was just starting to go. The new ones are sweet though: 60mm deep and 25mm wide. They're not particularly light but still lighter than what I had. They are quick though. Handling is different and sometimes requires more attention, but it's not bad. Along with wheels I replaced cables, housing, bar tape, and tires several months ago and chain, cassette, and chainring more recently. Swapping a 12-25 cassette for an 11-23 for a faster sprinting gear. Until recently, I've never run any road tire other than Continental Gatorskins, and while they last forever and rarely flat, they're also slow and ride harshly. This time I opted for a racing tire, GP 4000s II's, and while they ride much smoother and roll a bit faster, one has already been destroyed. I'm giving them a second chance, hoping that was an anomaly. In the future I may look for a compromise between racing and bulletproof.

For a little more money, I could've bought a used mid-level bike, but even if I combined the best parts, I'd be stuck with stock gearing, wheels, and tires. Also, Chinese carbon has very little resale value, so that option didn't make much sense.

Race
My first race of the year was the Tour of St. Louis which featured a time trial and two crits. Before the LAMBRA Championship last August, I wouldn't have done a road race unless my friends dragged me there. Those races, however, made me more comfortable riding in a pack and taught me that I have a shot at winning. That, combined with racing deprivation last fall and winter means I'll race in any way that I can. In all three events of the Tour of St. Louis I finished very near the middle.

I expected to do better in the time trial, but I guess it's been a long winter and my allergies were acting up in that slightly warmer climate. This event hurt the worst and felt like my lungs would explode. Still I managed a 23.5 mph average for 30 min, which I was happy with, but it wasn't good enough to place. I'm not sure if the top Cat 4's were on time trial bikes or not. I would definitely do another, but I have no desire to own a tt bike.

Both of the crits were fast with smooth corners. Having recently acquired a Wahoo Elemnt Bolt GPS, this was my first time in a very long time racing with speed, distance, and time data. And it was quite helpful. A third of the way into the first crit, I looked down to see we were averaging over 25 mph. After the morning's time trial I knew good and well I couldn't maintain more than 23.5 for any significant amount of time. A solo break was out of the question even in the rolling hills, so I played it safe and waited for the bunch sprint, knowing I'm not much of a sprinter. I'm not used to strategizing in races and wasn't sure what else to do. Even a group break probably wouldn't have stayed away.

The next day's crit was similar but flat with two slightly hard corners. Once again we averaged over 25 mph. I attacked with four laps to go, right when the group was slowing in anticipation of the final lap/sprint. A break might've stayed away those last few laps, but if not I still had time to recover for the sprint. My attack only amounted to me being on the front pulling everyone else. I jumped on another attack the next lap but still no break was formed. Rolling into the final stretch the pack was cruising at nearly 30 mph. A well timed, strategically placed sprint with good legs was the only way to win this one, and I had none of those.

Still, it was a fun weekend. Even though both crits were fast, they weren't nearly hard enough. I felt pretty good within minutes after finishing. Thinking more about strategy, I need to play to my strengths. I'm not a great sprinter and usually not fast enough for a solo break (few people are and those usually need to cat up). My greatest strength in bike racing, developed from years of mountain biking, is the ability to put out hard efforts and recover repeatedly. Therefore, my strategy for similar crits (and especially training races) in the future is to actively try to wear down the competition, hopefully before my own legs give out.

Pressure Drop

February in Illinois. It’s cold. Real cold. Cold enough to factor in the pressure drop in bike tires going from inside to outside. After guessing a few times and getting it wrong, I got bored enough to calculate various pressure changes corresponding to changes in temperature.

From the Ideal Gas Law we have PV = nRT. Assuming a constant volume (a reasonable assumption in most conditions except for maybe extremely low pressures), the equation can be re-arranged to get variables on one side, constants on the other: P/T = nR/V. From there, P1/T1 = P2/T2 or

P1(T2/T1) = P2

Just convert temperatures to your favorite absolute scale and find the ratio. The pressures in the table correspond to my front and rear mountain tires and front and rear road tires, but the percentage is what really matters.



For a general rule of thumb, if it’s 100 degrees outside and your pumping up tires inside, decrease pressure by *about 5%. If it’s 45 outside, increase by 5%. If it’s 15, increase by 10%. Under “normal” riding conditions the pressure difference isn’t really noticeable, but in 15 degree weather, my tires felt a bit squishy.

While I was calculating all this, I started thinking about shock pressure. Shocks are different in that a change in temperature results in a constant pressure process rather than a constant volume process. Without knowing the volume of the air spring or the number of moles of air, the change in volume can’t be calculated. But, assuming you want the same sag level regardless of temperature, the volume is essentially a forced constant, so the calculations above still apply in regards to adjusting the pressure according to outside temperature.

*Technically, if you expect a 5% drop you should increase by 5.263%. However, indoor and outdoor temperatures fluctuate, and most pressure gauges don’t have this level of precision anyway. Even getting it within 4 – 6% takes a bit of effort, especially at low pressures.

TNGA: Round 2

Racing the Trans North Georgia in 2016 was one of the most challenging, painful, and rewarding things I’ve done. Three years later, now that my emotional wounds have healed, I think I’m ready to give it another go. I didn’t do it in 2017 as it coincided with the solar eclipse (and the pain was still too near). I might have raced it in 2018, but I was set to graduate in May and had no idea where I’d be in August. My future had too much uncertainty. And it still does. I still have no idea where I’ll be this August, but I can’t use that excuse two years in a row. I do know that I’ll be somewhere, and right now I need something to look forward to. I’m planning to leave the Midwest sometime in April and should be settled somewhere long before the race.

Even though I should know what to expect, it’s hard to form an accurate mental picture of something of this magnitude. Just as before, I flip-flop between over-thinking and under-thinking it. I do know that I’ll be doing things a bit differently, like lightening the load. My rain jacket served no purpose, and I think I can substitute an emergency blanket for my rain-fly (which I only used as a blanket even though I carried both last time). I also carried at least a pound of trail mix from start to finish. There are enough stops along the way to carry minimal food, and trail mix really isn’t that appealing after several hours, much less days, of riding. I won’t need extra brake pads and certainly don’t need CO2 AND a pump. I’m hoping to get away with a lighter saddle as the Brook’s, while comfortable, is about a pound heavier than every other option. That’ll be something I sort out in training. Extra socks and underwear are definitely worth their weight though.

One of my biggest issues was battling allergies. I may start a preemptive regimen of Claritin the week before and/or carry some sinus relief medication. I also plan to train more this time: longer endurance rides leading up to the race, core/upper body work, and running/hiking. I wasn’t prepared for all the hike-a-bike sections on the third day. Hopefully this time won't be unnecessarily painful.