Alaskan Pack Fodder

I sharp kick to the ribs woke me this morning. My toddler son was claiming his territory in the bed, and I was left with a small strand at the edge. Balancing precariously, cheeks hanging out in space, I noticed I had 15 minutes before the alarm would go off. I would be forced to hit the snooze button before it woke the little terror. I listened to the sound of the rain falling on the roof with a sense of resignation. I knew there would be no road riding today. I left the bag of cycling kit next to the computer desk. The Storck remained in the garage, where there was less chance of it growing rust. The newly-trued front wheel stayed in the back of the car. The bits and pieces that supported my routine of after-work rides remained untouched. On my drive in, the rain chained to snow. It wasn't sticking, but it was snow. I couldn't see the mountains, but I know they got hammered with heavy, wet snow. It's a little early for this. I still want to ride on the road. I'm...

I was riding a large training volume level towards the end of the summer, and the plan was to slowly wean myself off of that as I rolled into the trainer season. Everything was going great, until it rained. Then it rained again. Then it rained some more. Usually rain doesn't stop me from riding, but when the temperatures get to the low 40s and high 30s, I realize it's not sustainable for me. I'll get in one good, if low-intensity ride, and then I'll spend the next couple days with a back in knots and a hesitance to ride again. String a couple of those rides together, and I usually end up sick for a week. I'm a weakling in that way.   Friday it was pouring and I had a sick child to deal with, so I didn't ride. Saturday I managed a good workout on the trainer, and somewhere during that time I waived at Noah as he floated by with all of his animal friends. Sunday was more of the same, so I procrastinated until the exact moment where it was too late to start anyth...

The sight of exposed skin on my wrist was startling. It's been a couple weeks since they haven't been covered by long-sleeve jerseys or arm warmers. The sight of beaded water running down that skin was downright shocking. It wasn't raining where I was riding (in my garage), so that must mean it was just copious amounts of sweat. Weird. With temperatures in the high 30s and rain falling, I just couldn't bring myself to ride outside. It would have been another low-effort ride in a long string of low-effort rides. Besides, with the wife out drinking... um, scrap-booking with her friends all weekend in Girdwood, I had to watch the kids. No four-hour climbing routes for me today. I kitted up and strode into the garage exuding purpose and confidence. That is, as much as a pale white guy with shaved legs wearing lycra can exude. I did suck in my gut, so I had that going for me. I logged onto Zwift and did all of the pre-ride stuff that my trainer sessions will likely...

Recently I spent a couple days playing a video game. Unlike most video games, where all feats of strength are accomplished with a certain combination of buttons pressed at the same time, this one required actual physical effort. I sweated.   I was playing Zwift , an online cycling video game. After years of watching the same DVDs in rotation over and over again, I decided to mix things up and start living in the current decade. Streaming videos. Virtual reality. That sort of stuff.   I've spent the last couple days trying to come up with a way to describe the experience. Despite the glowing recommendations from people who would rather ride inside than risk the chance of breathing actual air or falling on actual pavement, Zwift isn't an earth-shattering development in sports science. Riding the trainer still sucks.   It is interesting, though.   I've done workout machines of all types with virtual "rabbits", and noted their impact on...

The tube, which had been telegraphing its impending demise for a week, went out with a bang so impressive it unseated the tire's bead for 3 inches. I was excited to ride. Another great fall day, and what looked like at least two solid hours after work to ride. Then the contractors started filing in to get new badges activated, which obviously had to be done 15 minutes after my usual departure time. OK, two hours became 90 minutes, but it still was an incredible day. I'd up the intensity and take a slightly shorter route. I suited up and rushed out the door before anyone else could stop me. Two miles into the ride the explosion happened. No problem, I had a spare tube, CO2, a miniature frame pump, and a well-stocked patch kit. A quick fix and I would be on my way. As I unpacked my saddle bag, I noticed the spare tube's valve stem was too short for the wheel, and I had no extender with me. I'd actually thought about sticking one in the bag before, but for some reas...

As the work day wound down, I glanced at the bag of cycling kit next to my desk. The bike was out in the parking lot on my car's bike rack. Pull it off, slap on the front wheel, and go. The sun was shining and the temperature was moderate for this time of year. The wind wasn't blowing for a change.   I didn't want to ride.   I had to pick up the kids from school, so I used that excuse to keep me off the bike. I figured I'd do an easy hour on the trainer and call it quits. When we got home, I climbed into bed and closed my eyes. Fifteen minutes later I got up and started changing. I still wasn't motivated, but I knew I would regret not riding on a day like this. When you spend is much time on a trainer as I do, you have ample time for regret.   I rode the 10 miles out to Potter Valley, then wound my way up each evil switchback, past the traditional finish, up the new pavement, and finally reached the top. I was threatening to set a new record for the slowest ti...

The snow has established a solid foothold on the front range around Anchorage. At slightly lower elevations, fog and high humidity add to the recent drop in temperatures. I scraped my windshield the last couple days before work, and briefly considered wearing a jacket. That escalated quickly. With a household full of sick people, a handful of hours of sleep, and 7 days straight of work under my belt, I dug deep into my "Suitcase of Nope" and didn't ride my bike. I just wasn't interested, and didn't try to ride myself into enthusiasm. It works a lot of the time, but I knew it wasn't going to happen for me this time. Instead, I watched the rolling freak show that is Arctic Cross. I mean that in the nicest possible way. 'Cross season in Anchorage is when the roadies and MTB guys get together and steal the last few minutes of competition remaining before the snow closes in. Riders come from all directions and demographics. The bike polo guys come out. Th...