You talk'n to me?

I don't have much time to write today, but I just had to post this picture. They may flock to dumps and snack on dead fish, but they have so much more personality than seagulls. This one looks just like one of the Seinfeld street toughs to me ... he's hawking this piercing glare, but you can see right through those ruffled feathers. Before he was so rudely interrupted, he was probably saying to his otter friend, "Don't you just love the blue sky today? Look at the way it reflects on the snow. Oh I just love it. It's just gorgeous, simply marvelous."

Slush puppy

Date: Dec. 6
Today's mileage: 12.8
December mileage: 67.2
Top speed: 27 mph
Temperature upon departure: 36

Conditions were not ideal for cycling today. We've had about 70 inches of snow up on the ridge so far this season, and none of it has had much time to melt - until today. I've heard these warm spells hit, but they're rather disconcerting. A month goes by with below-freezing temperatures, and then, all of the sudden, one morning you walk outside and don't feel the urge to take off in a blind sprint for climate-controlled buildings. And all of your coworkers say it feels like springtime; meanwhile, you're up to your ankles in slush and wondering - "now how in the world am I going to bike through this?" It ain't easy, I've learned. The best parts of riding today: while pushing my bike up one particularly slush-covered hill, I slipped on a patch of ice and went knees-down into the muck, thereby learning that my bike gets better traction than I do; and, I enjoyed watching my headlight beam dance all over the place.

I didn't have any sponsors for today's ride. For people who may not read this blog much, my December theme basically centers around soliciting sponsors to help me pay the entry fee to the Susitna 100 - because, well, if you read my profile, you'll see I'm a journalist, and I still value food and shelter over cycling (I know, I know - I've got to rethink my priorities.) But today, I've compiled the top 10 reasons to donate a few bucks to my Susitna bid:

10. Because the Susitna 100 is just like the century ride you did last year - only it follows 100 miles of the infamous Iditarod trail deep into the subarctic Alaska wilderness, which just happens to be locked in the icy grip of winter still, and the bulk of the ice-covered course has to be ridden in the dark.

9. Because you're thankful you don't have to do it.

8. Because there are still six months and 24 days until the Tour de France.

7. Because your gift subscription to Bicycle expires this month, and you think you might like to read something that doesn't make you feel heartsick every time you turn a page to yet another streamlined carbon machine that costs more than your bike, car and CD collection put together.

6. Because you were always a little suspicious that those people who let dogs pull them along were cheating (no offense to dog mushers! I really do have a tremendous amount of respect for the sport.)

5. Because Syracuse football sucks this year.

4. Because your sponsoree (that's me) has never entered an organized race - anytime, for any reason. Therefore, her mettle has never been tested in a competitive situation. For all anyone knows, she just might win this thing.

3. Because your sponsoree's mettle has been tested - 3,200 mile cross-country bicycle tour; summitted high points in four mountainous states; hiked the Grand Canyon rim-to-rim, twice; survived a sudden downpour in a slot canyon; and stayed awake during (an almost actually watched) an entire Star Wars trilogy marathon once - thereby earning the confidence that she can survive this thing.

2. Because your sponsoree is one of those crazy, wild, can't-give-up-cycling-for-five-months-so-she'll-just-have-to-deal-with-subfreezing-temperatures-and-two-feet-of-snow types.

1. Because your sponsoree is just like you.

You'll find a handy Paypal button in the sidebar of this blog. For the cost of a cup of (hopefully Starbucks) coffee, you can sponsor a poor cyclist like the one you see in this blog, giving her the hope of a brighter future, or at least a really wicked "I rode the Susitna 100" T-shirt, which she'll cherish for the rest of her life. Won't you click today?

Gearing up

I didn't ride my bike today. I worked a 12-hour shift in the cement box. Then I spent an hour at the gym running on the elliptical trainer. It said I burned 818 calories, but I don't know what that means. You can't measure that in elevation or miles. If you measured it in Pepsi, that would mean I get to drink six cans of Pepsi. Not that I actually believe those calorie logs anyway.
This picture is a couple weeks old, from a walk I took on the Spit. You're probably getting sick of my sunrise/sunset pictures. Keep in mind, when the daytime logs in at less than six hours, you don't see much else.

I ordered a load of warm gear online today. When that package comes, it will be better than Christmas - as long as the package comes before my credit card statement. People who knew me back in the day (five years ago) would probably be amazed at all the stuff I own now. My good friend, Monika, still remembers (and regularly reminds me of) the time we hiked Upper Black Box (a 14-mile-long slot canyon in San Rafael Swell, Utah, with hiking that consists of long intervals of swimming, walking in ankle to chest-deep water, and Class 4+ to low-5s scrambling.) I wore boot-cut jeans, a Gap T-shirt, and the same pair of Sketchers I regularly wore to work, complete with three-inch-high soles (remember when those were popular?) She'll never let me live it down.

But, back then, I didn't own a stitch of clothing that wasen't made of cotton. I had a designated snowboarding outfit and a pair of hiking boots. I reused the same Evian 1-liter bottles to carry my water. I layered white gym socks if my feet were cold. I hiked the craggy, 11,000-foot peaks of the Wasatch with the same backpack I carried my high school books in. And I was happy then, content. What happened?

Well, I started biking. Then I moved to Alaska. Now I'm on back order for a pair of lightweight trail-running boots rated to -20 degrees. What is the world coming to?

Anchor's away

Date: Dec. 4
Today's mileage: 17.3
December mileage: 54.4
Top speed: 29 mph
Temperature upon departure: 8

Today's ride was sponsored in part by The Old Bag, and by John in Maine. Thanks, guys, for keeping me on my toe clips ... so far. Long way to go, still.

The ride went shorter than planned today when Geoff and I headed down to the Anchor River to look for a winter trail, which was displayed with some prominence on our map. It was eight bone-chilling downhill miles to the Anchor, only to arrive to a half-frozen river and no sign of a trail. Even the moose we saw near the bridge was breaking his own path through the snow. My guess is the river itself is the winter trail. But because temperatures haven't been any higher than a degree or two above freezing since people had pumpkins on their porches, I have to wonder when exactly this winter trail forms.

After that, we had only the long climb home, plodding slowly through gritty snow on the Sterling Highway shoulder with a lot of time to think about all of the gear we need to acquire. I'm pretty well equipped - with the exception of footgear, which I am especially lacking (I snowshoe in the same pair of trail-running shoes that I hiked the Grand Canyon in). At 8 degrees, today was an eight-sock day. I do think it's time to plunk down a few bucks for neoprene booties.

My editor is out of town, and 'tis the season for a disgusting glut of newspaper advertising and the feel-good copy that fills in the blanks - which means it's going to be a long, long, long week starting Monday. I can see spending most of those precious few daylight hours in the cement box - maybe an incentive to catch up on my night riding. We'll see how it goes ... I'd love to be able to owe y'all the mileage so I have absolutely no excuses to stay indoors. Just think ... a couple of bucks could mean months of virtual cycling entertainment at my expense. It's like reality TV, except it's real, and there's no TV (sorry, Fat Cyclist.)

Blind spots

Date:Dec. 3
Today's mileage: 20.0
December mileage: 37.1
Total time: 2 hours, 4 minutes
Top speed: 26 mph
Temperature upon departure: 9

Today's ride was sponsored in part by Tracy in Iowa, and by The Old Bag. Two inches of new powder meant I didn't break any speed records today, but I did get some great lessons in maneuvering. My favorite part of the ride was blasting down a decent (probably 8 percent) grade on Skyline Drive. Powder clouds whipped around me as I coasted down the untapped shoulder, carving a perfect line in the thin layer of new snow. It was a single moment, but felt quietly flawless, like I was floating - like I was snowboarding. Toward the bottom of the hill, I met one of the few vehicles I saw today - a full-sized Chevy pickup buried to its sideview mirrors in a snow bank. Its path was carved in the powder as well - and was decidedly less pretty than mine. How a vehicle that size left the road is beyond me, but judging by the dirt and rocks strewn across a 20-foot radius, I could tell it was a mighty struggle. As I slowed down to go around the truck, three people in the ditch looked up from their hapless shoveling with the most forlorn look on their faces . They all had the exact same look, blank expressions with a tinge of desperation in their eyes. My heart broke for their plight, but, alas, I was not towing a 5-ton winch, and felt any offer of contribution by a rogue biker might only exacerbate the situation.

When I returned home from that adventure, Geoff and I went cross-country skiing. I am definitely worse at skiing than I am at cycling, but the flailing downhill stretches are always a good exercise in humility. For some reason, it was simply impossible for me to keep my skis parallel at crucial moments today. Those periods of sliding with my butt on the back of my skis really helped wash away any feelings of superiority I may have developed whilst passing that poor truck. I have to admit, I did feel a shameful sense of pride on my ability to outmaneuver a $35,000 vehicle down a hill. No more, though. We all have our moments. That truck could have just as easily been me, torso buried in the snow, a disembodied pair of legs with skis attached kicking wildly at the sky.

"Pain and suffering"

Date: Dec. 2
Total mileage: 17.1
Total time: 1 hour, 44 minutes
Top speed: 32 mph
Temperature upon departure: 11

Today’s ride was sponsored by Tracy of Iowa, donated very generously under the heading “pain and suffering.” Geoff and I left at the crack of dawn, and by "crack of dawn," I mean it was 9:30 a.m. We cruised up the packed snow of Skyline Drive and headed for Ohlson Mountain. I was having a hard time keeping my eyes on the road as a blaze of sunlight erupted all over Kachemak Bay, due south above a shock of whitewashed mountains. It hasn’t snowed since last weekend’s powder dump, and we had some pretty good speed going throughout most of the hilly ride – including a 32-mile-per-hour plummet down one ice-covered hill. You can’t do that on a skinny tire … or, at least, you can’t do that and live to tell about it.

I arrived home, drenched with sweat from overdressing. On this rolling glacial terrain, you can’t have it both ways – you either freeze on the downhills or sweat on the uphills. Geoff chooses to deal with the discomfort of warming up his digits after a frosty ride. I’d rather sweat a little or strip a few layers if I need to worry about being drenched on a long downhill. But either way, you learn to adjust. Eleven degrees doesn’t feel so cold anymore; the long darkness doesn’t feel like such a hindrance. We're products of our landscape, and so we move through it.

Geoff installed my new bicycle computer yesterday. This is the first one I've ever owned. I always resisted computers for various reasons - partially because I like the uncertainty of free movement, and partially because I don't want to become a clock watcher, straining to beat some imaginary time or speed while breathtaking scenery disappears behind my tunnel vision. But it is nice to have; today I was able to pinpoint a turnaround spot that would get me to work by noon, and thanks to the computer I estimated my time pretty close to exact.

I’ve been thinking more about my goal of riding the Susitna, and I’m feeling both nervous and excited about the prospect – a good combination, I think. I am prepared to do what it takes to get myself ready, and I really do appreciate the support. If you read yesterday's post and thought I might just be ranting again, I want you to know that I am good for every mile. I still need to tell Geoff about my plans, but I'll get around to that. He probably believes this will bring about alot more suffering than enjoyment for me, but I still feel a sense of purpose when I think about it. It gives me something to work for beyond the meager paychecks of employment and the simple pleasures of day-to-day life. Even after one day, I'm already finding support from all over. I feel like a one-woman-all-cyclists team. So, whatever happens, thank you!

Revisited

I spent an hour grinding away on my bike trainer today, staring at a fuzzy television program I couldn't hear anyway and thinking about how I'd really like to attempt the Susitna 100. Geoff is still talking about doing the Little Su 50K ... he thinks he may even run it ... but I don't know. If we're going to all that effort, why not go all the way? I know, I know. I've already had the "crazy" talk with Geoff. And I know I'll need to acquire some more gear and a little good 'ol Alaskan toughness and all of that. But still, I kinda want to do it. Why, you ask? Well, why cross the country on a bicycle? To see if I can.

I still have that other aforementioned problem of paying the entry fee. I came up with an idea while riding the trainer that may seem more crazy than wanting to do this race in the first place. In charity rides, people usually put some sort of monetary value on their miles and collect pledges. So here's what I resolve to do ... I set up a little paypal donation box in the sidebar of this blog. For every dollar, I'll ride one icy mile on my mountain bike before Dec. 31 (the payment due date). Even if I have to ride in the middle of the night in a blizzard to meet my goal, I figure that will do more to help me get ready for this race than anything. I'll keep a log of the rides and their sponsors on this blog, and offer regular updates of my progress. And, if I come woefully short of the entrance fee or if another unforeseen circumstance keeps me out of the race, I'll donate any funds raised to a worthy charity such as the Lance Armstrong Foundation. Is that too crazy of an idea? (Keep in mind I just thought of it a couple of hours ago while I was sweating buckets on my living room rug.) I don't know. I mean, I'm not a nonprofit and I can't offer tax deduction receipts, but I thought it might be worth a dollar or two to some out there just to read about the horrors of headwinds at -5 degrees. So I'm posting this idea it for now, and saying thanks again to all of the great bike bloggers out there.