With no destination in mind, I made my way down to the garage this morning. Grabbing my bike, I filled the tires with air and lubed the chain. Checked to make sure my CamelBak was filled with water as well as a few snacks for the journey ahead. My arm warmers came along for the ride as well not knowing my return time. Grabbed my helmet and set it atop my head, cinching down the straps as they seemed to be more loose than usual. My Oakley sunglasses needed a good cleaning, and a good cleaning they received. An extra bottle of water was filled with EFS to keep cramping problems at bay. My new Swiftwick socks snug tight to each foot as I strapped on my Specialized Pro shoes. With my gloves in hand and my Garmin set to zero, I locked the garage and made it 10 feet before being stopped by one of my neighbors. “Hey Jordan, I see you are off to ride again, how long this time, 400 miles?” You see, when people who aren’t cyclists see one of their neighbors leaving on their bike 4-5 days per week, they don’t know what to think. This neighbor has previously asked me where I ride, for how long and if he can join. At first, when I shared a few of my normal ride stats with him, he shunned away bewildered at the magnitude of the numbers I was speaking. I informed him, I do not always ride great distances, and he was more than welcome to join me any time he desires. Unfortunately, I think those few trips he stopped me at the end of rather long days on the bike have left him only to mock me when he sees me clicking into my pedals off on another spin. I am not out to prove anything, I am not training for a big race, I do however enjoy challenging myself on occasion with longer than normal “after work” type rides. “Ha ha, good to see you my man, no 400 miles for me today. Just gonna get some time on the bike, have a good day!” Bleep! As my Garmin told me to get moving, I clicked the other shoe in and off I went. No geared bike has ever given me the true mountain bike feeling like a single-speed does. Every time I gear up and head out on my SS, I am all grins. Sure, riding this bike means inevitably, I am going to suffer more climbing, but this type of suffering is my cup of tea. It had been rather cold lately in South Orange County, but today was a crystal-clear, fairly warm 70 degree day. My Ipod shuffle was blaring Bon Jovi as I climbed out of my complex and made my way to the street. With a few warm up miles behind me, I decided Whiting Ranch would be my first stop of the day. On my way, passing by Rock N Road Cyclery, I ran into my friend CeeDubb who was out cruising the streets on his fancy Specialized townie bike. A few hi-fives later and a quick knuckle-bump set me once again on my way towards Foothill Ranch. The entrance to WR was still covered in mud from the recent rain. A few trail runners passed by traveling the opposite direction. We exchanged nods and smiles and kept moving. Although the entrance left my tires caked in non-eatable chocolate, the moist ground meant good things for the trail ahead. The sand filled sections ahead are usually nothing more than a pain in the butt to pass through. Today, God’s sprinklers left those sections nice and tacky, leaping me and my bike ahead. I was making good time and decided to climb Cattle Pond even though I knew in my head I had already planned on making today’s ride a long one. What would a little extra credit hurt, right? Making my way down the trail I came upon a pair of rather “new” looking cyclists suffering, I asked if they were okay and offered help, they declined. They were moving, but at a very slow pace, lots of huffing and puffing. No doubt, Mustard Hill ahead would put their bodies into slow motion leading to eventual one-foot-in-front-of-the-other walking. I offered up a few words “Ride safe!”, and continued on. Half-way up Mustard, my legs started yelling at me. I had been spending more time using my running shoes lately, and it showed. They weren’t happy, they wanted relaxation, not torture. They were winning the battle up Mustard as my pace weakened. I made a quick stop to gather my thoughts and grab a sip of water before carrying on. Glancing over my shoulder I could just barely make out the two new cyclists walking their bikes up the hill. Clipping back into the pedals I was determined to finish my route, knowing I could grab a fresh patch of air ahead. At Four Corners I was greeted by a half-dozen fellow cyclists also enjoying the great outdoors. Meeting fellow bikers and swapping ride stories is one of the many reasons why I ride a bike. While I was heading up and over towards Santiago Truck Trail, the rest of the group that joined me made their way down Cactus Trail or up to Mark’s Bench. Just before reaching the bottom of the trail leading me into the canyon, a bobcat leapt out from the bushes and ran in front of me as I descended toward the gate. For a moment, I was scared and thought “Oh no, a mountain lion!”, but quickly realized it was much too small and the coloring was wrong. It was too big to be a normal house cat and when it looked back at me, the ears gave it away. I may have never reached Eagle Scout, but I did remember a few things about identifying wildlife. As the bobcat scurried off into the bushes ahead, a smile slowly worked its way across my face, realizing I just ran into yet another reason why I ride a bike. The great animal kingdom isn’t something we should be afraid of, but it is something we need to respect and learn about. Knowing is half the battle. (G.I. Joe?) As I made a left turn and headed up Modjeska Grade Road, my legs start screaming at me again. “STOP, DON’T GO ANY FURTHER!” I wasn’t listening. The past few months working long hours and not spinning as much as usual were showing. I continued to fuel my body as best I could, but it seemed that today would be one of those days. I had come this far and had no plans of cutting the day short. Today was the first day in months I had a beautiful day with no work on my agenda. I was determined to enjoy (painfully if need be) the entire day on my bike. Ask any local cyclist and they will all tell you the worst part of riding STT-Luge is Modjeska Grade Road. It’s painfully steep (but short), pavement, and sucks. Sadly, there is no other way to get to the end of Santiago Truck Trail. Much like the entrance to Whiting, the first 300 feet of STT was muddy. This is typical of this section of trail so it was no surprise and very easy to navigate around. I was tired but I had a lot more climbing to do, all with only one gear. My Maxxis Crossmark tires made short work of the tacky terrain below my pedals. I run them on both of my mountain bikes, they work great wet and dry, roll fast and last a long time. Not a soul in sight on STT as the flag loomed near. Rounding corner after corner I kept a watchful eye for oncoming cyclists. Lately, it seems more and more have returned back down STT opting to not descend the Luge, one of OC’s popular downhill trails. Just before reaching the flag I noticed a dog making it’s way toward me ahead. There is a leash law for a reason, I truly wish people would follow it. As the dog approached, I reached down, flat palm up and greeted him with a smile and a “good dog” note. As per usual, the owner quickly followed yelling “Come here boy, come here, I’m so sorry he got away from me again!” I politely gave her a smile, a nod, and proceeded on my route. A day like today should be enjoyed outdoors. I hope that some of you who are reading this got to enjoy today outside, in your own way. The Flag is a meeting place for local cyclists, marks the top of the Luge Trail and even holds a logbook you can sign and leave your mark to be enjoyed by following visitors. Yet another reason why I ride a bike. After a few snacks to refuel the system, I noticed a pair of moto bikes making their way up STT towards Old Camp. Now, I am no Park Ranger, but I am pretty sure they shouldn’t be there. Moto’s are off limits on this trail and they didn’t look like officials to me. I am all for a good time, but when the cost is the destruction of trails so many enjoy, it upsets me. Making my way down the Luge and doing my best downhill rider impersonation, I was greeted by a fellow rider walking his bike up the trail. I stopped and asked him if he was okay, he was. He told me that he was shuttling up and down the trail to get in some “good bomb runs”. I told him to “keep on keeping on my friend and watch for people coming down” and continued railing corners trying to keep rubber side down while heading south. I was descending well today and the new brake pads I put in my Shimano XT brakes last night, kept me honest as my speed got ahead of me a few times. As I reached the pavement on Live Oak Canyon Road, I was sure to look both ways as this is a blind corner for cars. Quickly speeding downhill, I came across one, two, then three sets of cones blocking the street from vehicle traffic. As I continued through the cones slowing my speed, I realized they were doing road work ahead. As I passed the workers, I waved, smiled and continued forward hoping they weren’t mad I ignored their “Road Closed” signs, all three. I was hungry and I told CeeDubb earlier I would be by to say hello, so off to Rock N Road I sped. Single-speed bikes will keep your cadence up, that’s for sure, but they can also be somewhat frustrating over long flat sections. You are limited to one speed and one speed only, unless you want to pedal at 200rpm like a hummingbirds wings (I realize a hummingbird flaps its wings much faster than that). I spun my legs as fast I could and even got in a good “roadie tuck” position attempting to keep my pedaling to a minimum on the flat. Having a good local bike shop is almost as import as having a well tuned bike, to a cyclist. Getting to know the people behind the counter and the wrenches in the back can assure you prompt service and even save you a few dollars here and there. If you support them, they will support you. Another reason why I ride a bike. Having a good friend working there isn’t too shabby either. That’s Chris aka CeeDubb behind the counter, you know the buff guy with the hat on and the muscle shirt. I took down a peanut butter and jelly flavored Bonk Breaker and a Raspberry Cream PowerBar gel while shooting the shit with the Dubb. If you visit Rock N Road in Mission Viejo, be sure to ask for him, he likes to talk. (you’re welcome CW) I let him know I was off to Aliso Woods, to which he shook his head at me and told me to go have some fun for him. Clipping back into my pedals and exiting the store, I had to stop for a moment and drool over the 2011 Specialzed SWORKS Epic 29 they had on display. Such a gorgeous bike, just wish I didn’t have to sell a kidney to afford one. My stomach was happy again having put some food inside, but I feared I didn’t eat enough. I know better but pushed on. That fear would eventually come to light later during my ride. The route from the bike shop to Aliso Woods is downhill most of the way. This is great on a geared bike. On a SS, it’s frustrating. It is downhill, but not down enough to keep your momentum throughout. It’s slope is only enough to keep you needing to pedal unfortunately at a higher cadence than desired on a SS. Which meant my legs would PEDAL PEDAL PEDAL super fast, then coast…. then PEDAL PEDAL PEDAL super fast, then coast….. for 10 miles. This is also the section I was worried about on the return trip. This slight uphill would be more work than usual considering how much time I was spending on the bike today. My legs were actually feeling pretty good entering the parking lot at Aliso Woods. The lot was rather empty for a Friday afternoon, I could count the cars on one hand. This time of year the people that are usually off work riding, are off work shopping most likely. I love the holidays, but hate the constant traffic on the road. The one mile stretch towards the dirt allowed me some time to grab another bite of my Clif Bar and suck down some EFS. I had been on the bike for over three hours at this point and my feet felt great. No doubt the new Swiftwick socks were doing their job. Seems like another pair is in order. Making my way towards Mathis, I glanced over my left shoulder at the ridge line and saw an older couple holding each others hands on top of a large pile of rocks taking in the sun. Long-lasting love is something we can all dream about. This put a smile on my face. This would be the first time I have attempted to ascend Mathis on a SS. I would love to be writing how amazingly well I did climbing the trail, but alas, I failed. I did make it up the first steep section before needing my first break. That short half mile climb just about killed all of the energy that was left in my legs. As I stood there gasping for air, the thought of that long uphill home creeped into my head. Would I make it? Am I going to run out of time before it gets dark? Who’s off work I can call to come get me? Doubt may have filled my head but my gut told me to stop thinking like a quitter and get up that damn hill. There was much huffing and puffing but I did get my body up the hill and even let out a quiet victory yell and a raised fist at the top. Now that I have made it up Mathis, I need to come back and clean it. (Clean a hill = making it from bottom to top without removing your feet from the pedals and/or stopping) Challenges like this are another reason why I ride a bike. My next break occurred just before summiting Top of the World. I almost made it before my legs gave out on me. I was tired, I didn’t eat enough for the amount of calories I was burning and it showed. It was a cloudy day at Top of the World overlooking Laguna Beach, but still beautiful. I was tired. My legs were toast. I had put in 40 miles and almost 4000 feet of climbing on the day and I still needed to get home. The good news was I had finished the majority of climbing and even though I was tired, I was still smiling and happy to be riding. A fellow SS rider rode up beside me while I sat and rested for a moment. “Hey, what did you do with the rest of your gears? Looks like you’re missing some.” “They must be where yours are!” He and I shared some recent bike rides and talked bike for a good 10 minutes before proceeding towards Meadows. He was riding a sweet Niner One9 with all high-end carbon goodies. His fork of choice was a White Bros 29 carbon rigid fork, the fork I have been considering for a year. A full rigid 29 SS is something I have always wanted and after spinning his around for a few minutes, had me convinced. I am sure I will miss my nice plush Fox fork, but ditching three pounds and getting even closer to that true old school mountain bike feeling sounds very appealing. I can only imagine a full rigid bike must help you develop your bike handling skills like no other. You must learn to pick your lines or suffer the consequences. I’m in. We rode together towards my favorite downhill trail in Aliso Woods. It’s not the most challenging, but I do love me some switchbacks, and it holds more than the others. He stopped me again just before we tackled Meadows, talking about what other bikes I ride, forums I visit and where I was heading next. After a few minutes gabbing, I realized the sun was getting closer to the horizon and I needed to get moving. I left my lights at home. He maneuvered that full rigid bike ahead of me rather well. I followed his lines and stayed on his tail trying to get a glimpse of how it performed. Control did not seem to be an issue and it was apparent he was well versed on his bike. My stomach was not happy. It growled at me for a good 10 minutes as I made my way toward home. I should have fueled better before and during the ride. I know better. That slow grinding uphill back home was now wearing on me. Stroke after stroke seemed to take longer than I remember it on previous rides. Just before making it to the freeway underpass, the sun had almost set. It was getting dark, I was wearing mostly all-black attire and had no lights with me. I didn’t think I would be out this long. I contemplated stopping for a bite to eat, but that meant I would be out even later. Not riding in the dark weighed more important than food at this moment. I opted to take Los Alisos back home instead of the bike path. It would mean I would surround myself by more cars, but it was also a much quicker, more direct route home. I stopped at Trabuco Road and finished the remaining bits of snacks I had left. My bottle of EFS was empty and my bag was getting close to empty. The cranks on my bike started creaking and the chain had been squealing for a good 15 minutes. The bike was as dry as I felt empty. Seeing Trabuco Hills High School ahead in the distance reminded me I was getting closer to home. Making a right turn on Santa Margarita Pkwy, my mouth was wide open, a sure sign that I was reaching my limit for the day. My back was hunched over and I was watching my feet work more than the road ahead. I was ready to be home, warm and cuddled up on the couch with a coffee and a maybe an In-N-Out double-double. I almost stopped at Rock N Road again to say hi to my friends, but the thought of getting home overwhelmed me. It was dark, I was riding mostly on the sidewalk now. Riding on the road on a bright sunny day already gives me the creeps, so you can imagine how I felt in the dark. Soon, I realized I had one more hill to tackle, the Melinda hill. I call it that because Melinda Street is at the top. It’s the last hill I have to overcome when riding home and the first I hit when leaving home on most of my rides. I sucked down the remaining water in my bag, stood up on top of my pedals and slammed my way up the hill. Hitting the + sign on my Ipod I found Metallica: Ride The Lightning, which helped me pass a few fellow cyclists on my way up and over. Sitting on the couch in my garage, hungry, tired, and dirty, I found myself still smiling. Today was a good day. I put in over 5 hours, 54 miles and 4200 feet of climbing and I still had a grin on my face. My new Swiftwick socks did an excellent job keeping my feet dry and comfortable all day long. I never believed in athletic socks when I started riding, now I swear by them. A cycling specific sock goes a long way in foot health, trust me. Making my way into the house I wasn’t thinking about my stats, how hard I had worked, or the distance I covered. Instead, I was waiting to write this blog, sharing my day with all of you, my friends. My cycling friends know what days like today are all about. No matter how tired I am, how hungry or sore, I can’t wait to do it all over again. This is why I ride a bike.
Great read. It is so true how we can all relate to this and know the highs, the lows and the pure joy all rolled into one ride but your non-riding friends and family just don't understand it. Well done!
Thank you for the story. I'm feeling withdrawals from riding and I was able to live vicariously through your story. I can't wait for the trails to open up again. Until then, I may need to reread this.
Sweet iPhone4 pics! They look really great. Great diary entry/story as well -- read it all. I know some of the trails, so it was cool to come along on the ride with you on the ones I know. - shud
