Brand new treads

Date: Jan. 3
Mileage: 21.2
January mileage: 49.5
Temperature upon departure: 36

The latest piece of Snaux bike arrived this week, via USPS parcel post (every single purchase I make on eBay, I beg the sellers not to ship parcel post. I tell them I will pay them the 38 cents they'll save. I tell them I live in Juneau %@$#! Alaska, the end of the line, the black hole of post-office shipping. And every time, they send parcel post and I have to wait six weeks for packages.) This package had the WTB Timberwolf tires I bought in early December. I got a little greedy and went for the 2.7" tires. It's finally starting to look just a little like those big-wheeled bikes I dream about. Unfortunately, the rear tire doesn't fit the rim ... but it could, if I shaved down the outer knobs a little. Has anyone ever tried doing that? If so, what kind of results have you had? And what do you use to cut away the rubber?

Today I rode alongside the beach I biked across the other day. An unusually high tide had devoured nearly all of the sand, and I noticed that several of the shipwrecked boats were missing. They were just gone. Floated away, I imagine. But there was something disheartening about the scene. I find comfort in the rotting permanence of junkyards. They're almost like graveyards - places where you can go to mourn the remnants of forgotten histories. I liked to believe that those boats had washed up after long, fulfilling lives as sportfishing rigs full of shooters and salmon nets and wide-eyed tourists, but in old age and neglect had broken loose of their mooring and washed up on the shore to die. It seemed fitting to me to imagine that they had been there for years ... decades even. Now I realize that these scenes change in a matter of days.

I need to start putting in some longer hours on the bike. What I do now doesn't even really register on the training scale. It's been a while since I've done a ride that really floored me. I need to do one of those. But, man, it's going to be a psychological miracle of I succeed.

Liquidation

Date: Jan. 2
Mileage: 28.3
January mileage: 28.3
Temperature upon departure: 40
iPod cycled through: "Reach for the Sun" by The Polyphonic Spree

The New Year is here and I am through mourning the snow. Inches and inches and inches of rain corroded all of the packed snow, seeped into the glare ice layer and finally stripped the road of all but loose gravel and wet pavement. So I wrestled Roadie out of the closet, brushed off a thick layer of October grit, pumped up the tires and tentatively limped across the street.

I did not want to ride like it was summer. I wanted to believe that streaks of ice threatened to yank my tires out from under me at any moment. I needed the fight and kick of snow to lift me out of the dripping gray monotony. But as the pedals spun almost effortlessly over hard pavement, I watched the odometer spin upward ... 16mph ... 17 mph ... 18mph.

I had been off the bike three days but it suddenly seemed like three months. We tore through needles of rain toward a strip of sunlight slicing through the clouds. I watched streaks of yellow light drift over distant glaciers and leaned into Roadie and our iceless, winterless road. I trained my muscles for reaction and endurance; they know nothing of speed. But Roadie knows nothing of winter, and the miles melted beneath us. And in the subtle transition of moments, iPod chose a good song.

..... "light and day is more than you'll say"
This hurricane pattern's got me down.
..... "cause all my feelings are more"
It's not just the biking.
..... "than I can let by ... or not"
Riding Roadie in January.
..... "more than you've got"
Getting soaked.
..... "just follow the day"
Motoring past 20 mph.
..... "follow the day and reach for the sun"

21 mph ...
..... "you don't see me fly into red"
What of the dead snow and sunless December?
..... "one more you're done"
The sting of sleet on cheeks and eyes.
..... "just follow the seasons and find the time"
Do you know what 70 mph winds taste like?
..... "reach for the bright side"
But I hardly remembered what 23 mph felt like.
..... "you don't see me fly into red"
I can't keep it up but I'll try.
..... "one more you're nuts"
Unending rain is a definite possibility.
....."just follow the day"
But that doesn't even matter, does it?
..... "follow the day and reach for the sun."

All is quiet on New Year's Day

I think New Year's is a good day to feel subdued. A good day to feel contrite. A good day to pause at the "2007" scrawled across the front page and feel a little despondent about the passing of time.

New Year's Eve is all about the hunt. What do we keep searching for? I never find out. But I join the masses clawing through the wind-whipped streets, smoky bars and 2 a.m. Samosa stops. I want to believe we're looking for the defined moment, the sharp clarity that cuts a straight line between past and future, that carves away the bad and smoothes out the good. But all I see are the faces, hidden behind lipstick and glitter and cardboard hats. I hear the muddled voices, lost in the white noise. I hear them and see them again.

In 2006 in the fog of Alaska edible-art-induced food poisoning.
In 2005 in the deep snow drifts of the Uinta Mountains.
In 2004 echoed in the distant fireworks over City Creek Canyon.
In 2003 in the company of friends who were about to disperse forever.
In 2002 in the quiet calm surrounding Oneida Lake, New York.
In 2001 in fiery exchanges between week-old friends and lifelong strangers.
In 2000 in a wave of bodies streaming down the Las Vegas Strip.
In 1999 lost and longing in the streets of First Night, Salt Lake City.
In 1998 gasping for air in Portland, Oregon.
In 1997 screeching down I-15 packed 10-high in a 1960s Mercury Monterey.

It's fun to think back to those "Happy New Year" moments and remember every single one at that eruptive minute, remember all of the events that came after and all of the people that slipped away. That as I watched those bleary-eyed faces count down the final seconds, all I wanted to see was time holding still.

2006 in reverse

Date: 30
Total mileage: 21.0
December mileage: 476.1
Yearly mileage: 5,547.5

This year I resolve to see more beauty.

What's your New Year's Resolution?

Becoming rusty

Date: Dec. 28 and 29
Total mileage: 57.0
December mileage: 455.1
Temperature upon departure: 38

I have to be honest. I'm struggling. Struggling with motivation. Struggling with a disparity of location ... when I lived in Homer, I didn't enjoy my job much, but at least I had a satisfying cycling hobby to fall back on. Now, I enjoy my job more, but ...

It's my weekend. I thought I'd take advantage of Geoff being away to put in some longer miles, but I do what I find tolerable. Yesterday, tolerable was about three hours. Today, with a daunting Wind Advisory extended to 9 p.m., I decided to head north. After about two miles I realized that there wasn't any point in pedaling - my gearing only goes so high, and the wind already was pushing me along at about 25 mph. That didn't bode well, but I decided it would be a great workout going home.

I had, simply, no idea what I was turning around to face. Hurricane-force blasts stole the breath right out of my throat, leaving me gasping for oxegen that seemed to have been sucked right out of the air. It was hard enough to breathe holding still - it was nearly impossible once I really started pedaling into the wind, holding my nose against the handlebars as sharp needles of rain pierced my scalp through the holes in my helmet. I have never experienced anything like that wind. The 11-mile trudge homeward grew to be more tolerable, but as I crossed the bridge, a crosswind gust hit so hard it slammed me, sideways, right into the guardrail. The guardrail ... the only narrow barrier that separated me from a 60-foot freefall into the churning channel. It scared me so completely that I got off the bike right there and walked the rest of the way home - the entire way, even after I had reached the relative safety of solid ground.

Only later did I find out that the weather service had advised people not to drive due to unpredictable gusts and sustained, gale-force wind. They recorded gusts as high as 109 mph in the area.

Before I returned home, I did spend some time riding on the beach. That helped save the what may have otherwise been a miserable ride (although I do have to admit that riding with that wind at my back was an absolute blast.) I started about a mile down the road and rode back through the sand with the wind wisking me forward. I wove through the shipwrecks and stopped to take some bike pictures in an effort capture the mood of the day:



I also have been use music to help internalize some of the more difficult rides, which helps ease the suffering. I compiled a short list of some of the albums that are cycling through my roatation right now. I call this list "Good albums for riding a bike in the cold rain:"

"Halloween, Alaska" by Alaska Halloween
I discovered this album by accident because Halloween and Alaska are two of my favorite things, but it really has a lush fusion of beautiful noise that lulls me into the contented motion of the moment.

"This is a Long Drive for Someone With Nothing to Think About" by Modest Mouse
This was the first Modest Mouse recording introduced to me, way back in 1997, by my "Straight Edge" high-school boyfriend with a soft side for basement emo music. (We called it emo back then. I'm not crazy about what the label's come to mean now) But it's still my favorite.

"The Meadowlands" by The Wrens
Also beautiful indie-pop that at times is unexpectedly catchy. Kinda like Radiohead but more accessible - which is a good thing on a bike, where music that is too intellectually stimulating can become grating.

"Slanted and Enchanted" by Pavement
I also came into Pavement in a pretty embarrassing way - by the song "Cut Your Hair" from the Brady Bunch Movie. But it's stayed with me for 10 years, so it must be worth something.

"Soviet Kitsch" by Regina Spektor
I had this song in my rotation for the longest time while I was training for the Soggy Bottom 100. It still carries a lot of the beautiful sadness I felt upon leaving Homer.

"Summer in Abandon" by Pinback
If you don't think melancholy hazy-day rock is also good mood music for cycling in the rain, this list really isn't for you.

"We Will Become Sillhouettes" by The Postal Service
I understand that The Postal Service is some kind of side-project for the singer in Death Cab For Cutie. It's a little more trip-hoppy than Death Cab, and has a lot more introspection.

"Tonight and Forever" by Sense Field
Just in case all of this indie folk puts you to sleep, I threw in one of my favorite power pop albums ever.

Happiness is frozen and dry

Date: Dec. 26 and 27
Total mileage: 43.0
December mileage: 398.1
Temperature upon departure: 26

Today, for the first time in the month of December, I had real, actual, nonfiltered sunlight in my eyes. For three beautiful miles around the north corner of Douglas Island, I actually had to squint as the unobstructed sun slid over the tips of the mountains. It was one of those famous partly sunny sinkholes that open up between the weeks and weeks of dripping gray. From these momentarily clear skies descends colder air ... refreezing the puddles, slush pots and soft snow. On days like today, I can go for a two-hour ride wearing a single layer on my legs and just two on my upper body and feel toasty warm. And I'm so excited about being dry, the pedaling doesn't even feel like work.

I finally sent in a check for the Susitna 100 this afternoon. I know I decided to do it a couple of weeks ago, but this is really the point of no return (which is why I put it off until the end of the month.) Now it's either go, or make a really big donation to the Flathorn Lake Brownies and Paella fund. I also mailed a check for Geoff. He's entering this year's 100-mile race. On foot. That's right. Running. 100. Miles.

I like that I can feel almost normal in the company of people crazier than I am. I'd call him absolutely nuts, but deep down I know that if I drop the exhorborant entry fee and airfare and vacation days and gear purchases on this thing, and I show up on Feb. 17 and the trail is covered in two feet of new snow, I might just ditch the bike and do the race anyway. I'm going to bring my snowshoes and backpack just in case.

White Christmas

Date: Dec. 24
Mileage: 13.0
December mileage: 355.1
Temperature upon departure: 36

I hope everyone had a wonderful holiday. I enjoyed two of the 24 Hours of "A Christmas Story" on TBS with friends, and ate two wonderful turkey dinners. When I say wonderful turkey dinners, I mean I pretty much just ate turkey and cranberry sauce (and some cocktail shrimp and cheesecake.) I don't mean to disparage my hosts' cooking, but I adore turkey and tend to think of potatoes and stuffing as lesser filler. And when there's tons of it available, I wait until the line has moved through and people are focused on their own food; then I protein-load with a big pile of white meat. I love the holidays.

I went for a short ride before work yesterday. I didn't really enjoy it. To be honest, I haven't enjoyed biking much for a couple of weeks now. I usually look back on it fondly after the ride, when the blood is starting to return to my extremities, bringing with it that oh-so-satisfying rush of endorphins. But the conditions have made it so hard to motivate. Hard. So today, with Geoff in New York and no Santa visit to speak of, with slush streams falling from the sky and full day of work ahead of me, I gave myself something I really wanted for Christmas - I set up my bike trainer in the living room. I spent the better part of the morning pounding away at it and watching "The Devil Wears Prada." That movie is 100 minutes long. With the resistance set to 7, that's a decent workout. I had to spread newspapers underneath the bike to soak up all the sweat. It felt great. No regrets.

I don't really plan to keep this up. For starters, Blockbuster charges $4 per video. Plus, I need to acclimate myself to the cold and the pain - that's almost more important to preparing for the kind of races I do than being physically fit - and I thrive on the daily mini-adventures anyway. But, deep down, all I want to do is rage, rage against the dying of the light. And if the sun doesn't show up soon, I'm not sure what I might do.