Refrost

Date: Dec. 10
Today's mileage: 33
December mileage: 132.2
Temperature upon departure: 32

"I haven't been that terrified on a road bike since we left Missouri." What thaws must freeze, such is the code of Alaska. Geoff and I headed out East End Road today, giddy to cycle 17 miles of rolling hills on the newly exposed pavement. Mostly ignoring the closer-to-freezing temperature on the bank clock in town, we parked the car at the Homestead Restaurant and began the long climb toward the ridge. We pedaled upward, about 3.5 miles and 1,000 vertical feet, until the ice on the road was so thick that our back wheels started spinning out. Geoff stopped just shy of McNeil Canyon Elementary (which is, incidentally, the highest-elevation school in Alaska) and posed a very good question that I hadn't thought much about at 8 mph - "what's this going to be like coming down?"

And I meant what I said to him once we returned to the safety of sea level after white-knuckling the brakes down that ice sheet. Geoff opted for faster - less likely to fall. I opted for slower - less likely to hurt as bad should a likely fall happen. We both came down unscathed - but, man. I felt as cold as ice at the bottom, and not because I wasn't dressed for the weather. The last time I was so scared on a skinny tire, I was trying to outrace freeway-speed traffic on a narrow, shoulderless stretch of U.S. 50 in rural Missouri. All of Missouri is a crap shoot if you're on a loaded touring bike, but at least the roads don't ice over often down there.

We took advantage of our surging adrenaline to ride another 26 miles around town and out the spit. It was a good day and I'm happy for this short window of road bike freedom, but I think I'm going back to the studs.

Well, tonight I get to go to a Contra Dance. (I'm a small-town journalist. Don't ask.) I just learned that a Web site called the Outdoor Bloggers Network has nominated Up in Alaska as one of a couple dozen up for "Best Outdoor Blog of 2005." I don't know that it's really a fair nomination, seeing as this blog has only been in existence since November. But, for what it's worth (and I'm not quite sure what it's worth) you could surf on over and cast your vote, if you want. The site is weighted pretty heavily toward the hunting and fishing sector, so your vote might be my best chance. The site is located at http://www.heartlandoutdoorsman.com/blog/

Roadie gets the December treatment

Date: Dec. 9
Today's mileage: 32
December mileage: 99.2
Total riding time: 2 hours, 4 minutes
Top speed: Judging by the truck that faded behind me on East Hill, at least 45 mph
Temperature upon departure: 40

Today was all about color, sugar and speed. I love it. While the good folks down in Austin, Texas, are digging out of an ice storm, I'm pacing trucks on my road bike - in Alaska, in December. Sometimes, life turns upside down and smiles at you.

No one at the office wanted to work today. The publisher announced yesterday that we were having a pot luck and *no one* was allowed to bring anything but desserts. Even the girl who brought in Fuji apples the size of small pumpkins was frowned upon. So we stuffed our faces with cookies, brownies, pistachio pie - then, bloated and reeling from sugar shock, we pulled down all the Christmas decorations and started throwing tinsel everywhere. At about 1:30 p.m. I looked outside and could see a hint of sun showing through the rain clouds. And I knew - just knew - a rare window had opened.

I arrived home at 2 p.m., unhooked my road bike from the trainer I thought it would sit upon for at least three more months, walked it along the precarious ice sheet that my driveway has become, and went for a ride - a fast ride. After a month on the mountain bike slogging through the snow, I was coasting along pavement and sucking in warm breeze like it was suddenly spring. Everywhere colors emerged that have spent so long buried in hoarfrost - deep greens and yellows reflecting off what was left of the snow, blue and orange in the sky. The headwind out of the west was fierce but I rode as hard as I could, and felt like I was flying.

Geoff joined me for what turned out to be the last half of my ride - down the Spit and around Kachemak Drive, for 17 miles. By the time we returned, just after 4 p.m., the sun was long gone. The clearing sky signaled the cold will return. Alas, it's December, and there's nothing that will stop it. But - for a small window within winter's icy grip, I had a 32-mile road ride on a 40-degree afternoon and almost believed it was spring. Now Geoff and I are headed to Foreign Film Friday at the college, but I wanted to say thank you so much to Holly and Kris, who sponsored today's and Monday's ride and stoked my further excitement for the Susitna 100. It won't be anything like today, but with any luck, it'll feel even better to come home from.

Dancing

I was going to write a post about the beauty of 2o-degree weather when this damp, gray, slurping muck is the alternative, but Tim beat me to it. Still, I watch the winter melt temporarily around me and I remember that life creates beauty where it will - snowbanks dressed in mud; the late-morning sunrise slipping through a blur of precipitation; flattened blades of grass that haven't seen light since mid-October.

I tried out O.V.'s recommended one-hour ride on the trainer today. Pretty effective. Back when I was more of a gym rat than a snow bunny, I used to attend spin class religiously on Tuesday nights. Plowing through those intervals today reminded me of my favorite spin instructor, Nick, who was constantly prompting us to turn our dials to "thick mud" setting. "You're out on the trail!" he'd yell. "You're riding in thick mud and it's raining! Let's see you ride in the rain!" And we'd all grind into the pedals, but of course, we weren't kidding anyone. We were all riding in a climate-controlled gym, listening to empty-calorie techno music and staring at a neonn-splashed mural of a mountain landscape. How could we be anything but disconnected, thinking about our day at work and mulling whether to have salad or salmon for dinner. I'm happy to keep riding outside, even if that means mud and rain and the unavoidable chill of 35 degrees and soggy.

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.)