Brothers in arms

Yesterday's post generated some great recommendations, and I've learned a lot more about the wonders of bike pogies and leathermans. I really like the idea of chemical handwarmers. The only time I ever used them was during a Dave Matthews concert at a 2002 Winter Olympics medals ceremony. Back then, I was still clinging to my late adolescence and still thought I was pretty cool. So, of course, I attended an outdoor concert in Salt Lake City in February wearing only a hoodie, some ratty jeans and and equally worn-out pair of Vans. (It only took a couple more years for me to become one of those people that drives by school bus stops and wonders what's wrong with those kids.) Anyway, my mom gave me some handwarmers as an afterthought. I stuffed them into my pocket and welded myself into the people slew near the stage. However, I was already a little too old to be cool enough for the pit, and as the crowd amped up I was pushed further back into the cold winter night. Numbness had pretty much consumed my fingers, ears, face and toes, and was moving on to my torso by the time I remembered those warmers. And as I clutched them in the pockets of whatever useless cotton layer I was wearing, I remember the sensation as akin to wrapping my fingers around a uranium-laced rock - it felt so wrong, but yet ... so right.

Today I went to the gym for the first time since Christmas. I wanted to keep my heart rate uniformly high for an hour and then do some tricep curls. The gym I go to is really small, and the personal trainer tends to lurk uncomfortably, wait for you to get embarrassingly sweaty and then blurt out advice that seems obvious ("be sure to drink some water after you're done.") So I usually stick my face in a magazine while I'm there. Today, the place was packed with New Years resolutioners but the personal trainer still managed to corner me as I was bee-lining for the elliptical.

"Haven't seen you in a while," he said.

"Yeah," I said. "It's that busy time of year."

He furrowed his unibrow and I could see I was in for a lecture. "We all get pretty busy around the holidays," he said, "but it's important to keep up a regular regimen if you want to stay fit."

"Uh-huh," I said.

"Be sure to stretch extra long before you start," he said. "Don't want you to get sore."

"Sure will," I said. I didn't have the heart to tell him that it was kind of a down day for me.

Gear post

Date: Jan. 8
Mileage: 21.2
January mileage: 129.4
Temperature upon departure: 33

At the risk of embarrassing myself terribly with my lack of gear-related knowledge, I'm compiling a list of my current winter riding and Susitna 100 gear, all in hopes that suggestions, recommendations and maybe even some direction to good used stuff will come my way.

My bike: I ride a Gary Fisher Sugar 3 with women's specific geometry. Componentry is all stock stuff. I originally bought this bike with Grand Teton rock trails and the southern Utah desert in mind. Since I moved to Alaska, it's converted nicely to a winter bike, as I suspect any mountain bike would. It would be nice to find a rigid bike, or, if the heavens opened wide, an affordable Surly Pugsley. But for my first year of winter riding, this works fine.

My tires: Ok. I admit it. I went to the bike shop and bought the pair of Kenda studded tires that were on sale. If I could go back in time and purchase the Nokian Extremes, I'd do it (my knees, after taking the brunt of a good spill on today's icier stretch, would probably thank me.)

Footgear: Around here, I usually ride with a couple of pairs of socks and my hiking shoes. On the Susitna 100, I plan to wear: a liner sock, neoprene sock, big smart wool sock, lightweight winter boots, neoprene booties, and - depending on conditions - gaters.

Gloves: I usually go really light on gloves when I ride around here - unless temperatures are below 30, nothing more than my synthetic glove liners. During the race, I'll use those or neoprene liners with my new CZIP gloves and possibly, if the heavens open wide, bike pogies.

Head and face: I have a neoprene face mask, a thin synthetic head warmer, a polar fleece balaclava and goggles. Around town, even when temperatures have been near zero, I've gotten by with only the thin head warmer.

Legs: Around town I always wear fleece or nylon pants, or my snowboarding pants if it's precipitating. I need to figure out some good layering techniques for the Susitna 100. This is one area I'm awaiting recommendations.

Torso: I'll probably bulk up on the fleece and synthetic layers, and cover everything with a waterproof shell. Race organizers tell us to plan on a temperature swing of 40 to 50 degrees during the race, with possible temperatures that can range anywhere from -40 to +40 degrees. The torso layers are the ones that will fluctuate the most based on race conditions.

Stuff I'll be lugging on my bike rack: I'm still mulling the possibility of using small panniers, or just stuffing everything in a dry bag and strapping that to the rack. Carrying technique is something I haven't decided, but I do know what I need to carry. What I have: bivy sack, assorted tools, tube changing kit, spare tubes, knife, small cooking pot (to melt snow if needed), and spare clothing. What I still need to purchase: sleeping bag rated to at least -20, insulated sleeping pad, liquid fuel stove, map and 5,000-7,000 calories worth of food (I know. It's tempting to just carry a jar of peanut butter).

Water system: Camelbaks have great insulation against freezing, especially if I get a hose insulator, and I already have experience cycling long distances with one of those on my back. So that will probably be the way I'll go.

Miscellaneous: Really, if I'm forgetting anything that might keep me alive and/or comfortable, please feel free to drop in a cautionary comment. I'll probably carry Duct Tape, because I'm an Alaskan now. I have a Cateye 5 LED headlight as well as a focused LED headlamp, and I'll need to get spare lithium batteries for both of those. I need to purchase a reliable firestarter (no Bic lighters for me) and some matches. Plus ibuprofen ... and maybe some NoDoz (I know from experience ... I can go far on the wonders of caffeine.)

There's probably several crucial things I'm forgetting. As far as the actual race, my plan is still to just go out, try my best, and prepare for the worst. Trail conditions can swing this thing open wide, and there's really no way to anticipate exactly what I'm facing. The first woman cyclist to finish in 2004 crossed the finish line after 20 hours and 30 minutes. The roster's up now for 2006, my competition. My goals for the Susitna 100 are, in order of hierarchy:

1. Survive.
2. Survive with all of my digits intact.
3. Finish the race.
4. Finish the race in less than 24 hours.

All the rest is breathing and pedaling. I think it's going to be a lot of fun.

My snowmachine

Date: Jan. 7
Mileage: 35.5
January mileage: 108.2
Temperature upon departure: 33

Today's ride was sponsored by Kevin. I set out a little later than hoped (noon), but made up for my procrastination with serendipitous exploration. I found a maze of winter trails and unplowed four-wheel drive roads networking through the woods just north of Skyline Drive. For a mile I'd plow through untapped snow, only to suddenly find myself on a well-traveled snowmobile trail, cascading over packed waves of powder. Then I'd hit the rutted and icy roads, bounce around for a bit, take a left turn and find myself up to my pedal strokes in powder again. Along the trails I came across two dog mushers. One stopped to tell me the trail I was on was a dead end.

"It ends at my house," the man told me. His 4 or 5-year-old daughter was clinging to the cargo side of his sled. Four restless huskies whined and nipped at the air.

"I'm sorry," I said. "I didn't realize this was a private trail."

"That's OK," he said. "It's not like you're on a snowmachine or anything."

As he pulled away I could hear his daughter say, "Daddy, daddy, was that a bicycle?"

All in all, it was a fun ride, even though this kind of cycling turns up disappointing mileage for time spent in the saddle (in today's case, a little more than four hours.) But all this trail riding is necessary for me to improve my handling abilities in snow. Any snow or ice condition, for me at least, still wavers on the unpredictable side (I think of it as riding through deep sand one second and the next bouncing over large roots - and having no prior knowledge of the transition because on top, it all just looks benignly white.)

Very knowlegable folks such as mags (who, by the way, is a future Olympian) have asked me why I don't enjoy all this God-given white stuff in more natural ways, such as skiing. And I do understand the importance of cross-training to stay in good athletic shape (I do run from time to time.) But these rides, especially the trail rides, are as much about gaining skill as they are about building a solid set of quads. I am a rookie in the most unapologetic sense. I had never even seen a studded tire (bicycle or otherwise) until this year. And I don't have much time, so I practice - any free moment I have. I know that my success depends on my level of confidence, even more than it does on my level of fitness.

Earlier today, I thought I had a good idea for a post. But Geoff and I just went to see King Kong, and my brain is a little bit mushy. Kevin, my sponsor for today, suggested I do a Susitna 100 gear post - what I'm planning on using and what I still need. This sounds like a good idea (I admit it. I'm hoping to receive suggestions and recommendations all around.) So I'll pencil that one in for tomorrow.

Reservoir dogs

Date: Jan. 5
Mileage:15.7
January mileage: 72.7
Temperature upon departure: 24

There's something about bicycling on top of a mass of water that's so ... ethereal. Something about gliding atop the epitome of a smooth, flat surface; about the silencing strength of snow against the grind of wheels and the darkness of evening settling over a frozen landscape. Geoff and I hit the reservoir today after a harrowing descent down the rutted-out ice roads above. The sudden change amounted to the difference between weaving through Los Angeles traffic and an joy ride on the Bonneville Salt Flats ... all of the speed, and none of the stress.

After the ride I was eating a giant burrito and browsing the Anchorage Daily News when I came across a letter to the editor titled "Hopefully, violent collision with SUV knocked sense into winter cyclist." Of course, I knew that reading a so-titled piece of work would probably cause the burrito to churn uncomfortably in my stomach, but I read it anyway.

"I was initially sympathetic to the piece published Dec. 25, 'Cyclist happy to be alive after violent hit-and-run by SUV,' Mitch Lewis of Palmer began. "However, I had to wonder why the author didn't mention the obvious: This is Alaska, it is winter and the streets are covered with snow and ice. Am I the only one who saw this?"

I can just see Mr. Mitch Lewis of Palmer approaching the downed cyclist on the highway shortly after the accident.

Mr Lewis: "I'm sorry to see you're hurt, but I'm afraid to say you have no one to blame but yourself."

Cyclist, fighting for consciousness through a nasty concussion: "Um ... I'm pretty sure that SUV hit me."

Mr. Lewis: "Yes, but, it's winter out. (which is the best argument he poses in his letter)"

Cyclist: "I know."

Mr. Lewis: "So, if you agree with me on that fact, you can't deny the unreasonable risk of cycling in the winter in Alaska" (for Mr. Lewis's sake, let's just say he means the months between September and July.)

Cyclist: "But I was in control that entire time. That SUV hit me. From behind."

Mr. Lewis: "It's an infallible fact that Sport Utility Vehicles are impervious to the perilous conditions of winter roads. Therefore, sir, it must be your fault."

"To wish him back to the same place and frame of mind that would encourage him to ride a bicycle on the same snow- and ice-covered streets of Anchorage that he was almost killed upon in the first place, would be a misuse of glad tidings," Lewis wrote. "I hope he had a bit of common sense knocked into him and he takes the bus when the weather and streets warrant it."

And, Mr. Lewis, I hope you have a bit of common sense knocked into you when your SUV hits an ice patch on the Seward Highway and careens into the Turnagain Arm at 80 mph. Well ... that sounds a little too vindictive. My point is, the risk of any form of travel is increased by snow and ice. Personally, I feel a lot more in control navigating winter conditions down the 1,000-foot elevation drop of West Hill on my mountain bike than I do in my car. I only wish I could feel the same sort of confidence in the traffic barreling down with me.

Duck and cover

Augustine let off a little steam today, prompting a rush of calls to the Homer Tribune in the late afternoon. After about a half dozen calls I could practically hear my co-worker grinding her teeth through her usual cheery receptionist voice: "No, sir, we've already confirmed it isn't an eruption ... No, it's just steam venting ... We got that from the AVO (Alaska Volcano Observatory) ... Yes, I believe there is a difference ... No, sir, we can see it too ... Well yes, it does look like an eruption is coming, but ..."

People around town are on pins and needles right now waiting for this thing to blow. The scientists still have the Augustine alert on yellow, but these stubborn Homerites are convinced an eruption is imminent. Last week, my office took a poll on the date it will go. My boss has her money on Jan. 6 ... tomorrow. I'm last on the list, with what I thought was a conservative guess of Feb. 20 (This is probably more optimism than an educated predication. On that date, I'll be hunkered down 300 miles north of the nasty ash plume, sleeping off the Susitna 100. Then, not only will I not have to buy a face mask, but I'll also have a lot more recovery time from the race, stuck in Palmer as I'll be.)

Today I did a light training day - 50 minutes of "sprinting" intervals on the trainer. Perhaps I'll do a two-mile run before bed. My friend Dane's bivy sack arrived in the mail, which means the only gear I have left to acquire before the race is a liquid fuel stove, neoprene socks and a sleeping bag rated to -20. We're required to carry all of our camping gear even if we never use it - which adds a whole new layer to my training that I'll need to start on soon. But if the volcano goes off, I'm going back to bed.

Mmmm ... frosty

Date: Jan. 4
Mileage: 20.6
January mileage: 57.0
Temperature upon departure: 26

Today's ride was sponsored by Heather in Ohio, who sent a wonderful note that arrived by mail at my office today. (My co-worker, as she handed me the addressed envelope, said "What's 'The Cement Box?'") Heather recommended that I "go get some granola bars and goo and get after it." So today, I tried that (without the granola bars and goo ... but now I can go get some). Thank you!

I was sitting in the Cement Box around 2 p.m. today, staring at my computer screen and probably looking a bit distracted, when my boss said "It's a nice day. I'm going to go on I photo safari."

Me: "Mmm Hmmm." (You see, I call it the Cement Box because there no windows in my office.)

Boss: "It looks like a good day for a bike ride, too."

I just smiled. She knows me too well already. But her statement did coax me to the front desk, where I confirmed that it was, indeed, a very nice day. So I punched out early and took advantage of the blazing sunlight to attempt a longer trail ride. I dropped off Diamond Ridge and looped around the forest that parallels the Sterling Highway. The quick elevation changes give me a full smorgasboard of trail conditions: punchy, moose-tracked snow; packed powder; hoarfrost-covered grass; glare ice; gut-busting climbs and cheek-rattling descents. In short, my own little Susitna. Progress was fun but slow. I was a bit disappointed to return from my ride nearly three hours after I left - with most of my clothing layers tied in various states of removal around my body and coated in frosty sweat - and realize I had only covered 20 miles of ground. But I felt good today. Strong. I'm getting better - I really am. Wow. This whole training business really works.

Repairs

Date: Jan. 3
Mileage: 9.5
January mileage: 36.4
Temperature upon departure: 27

Good ride tonight ... less punchy because I made more of an effort to avoid the moose tracks, with snow so dry and clean that distant sparkles off my LED headlamp mirrored the pepper starlight in the night sky. It almost made up the massive computer meltdown at work today. As our missed deadline faded further and further into the past, we scrambled for solutions with an impatient pre-press operator bearing down from afar. I tell ya, I was this close to pulling out a typewriter, some glue and an exacto knife, and giving up on the whole computerized scandal of it all. But I guess that's the great peril of the digital age, isn't it? The more independence we gain from workaday labors, the more dependent we become on machines we can't begin to understand.

Me? I'm learning to fix my bike - one of the simplest machines available in the modern age. I need to master basic repairs as these longer, more remote rides become more common. Even simple things like changing cables or swapping out the chain frustrate and confuse me. I need to go through each step in slow succession, like a child learning to count to 10. Even then, my attention span usually prevents me from learning after only one demonstration. I have no talent for this stuff. I think this may be why hiking was my first and probably is still my favorite form of outdoor recreation. All you need is a good pair of shoes - and my early forays into the mountains are a testament that you don't even necessarily need that. All this gear just weighs me down. I am learning to live with it ... I do love cycling. And a bicycle, by definition of the sport, is a rather necessary piece of gear. If I want to ride a mountain bike 50 miles into the inhospitable Alaskan wilderness, I'm going to have to learn to fix the thing. But that doesn't mean my mechanical mental block isn't going to fight me every step of the way.