Ride = Reward

25 April 2010 - Salem Bicycle Club's Monster Cookie Ride is a metric century that rewards you with, you guessed it, a monster cookie at the end.  Gone are the days of the dangling carrot, give us our sugar, and monster size it.  Did it really help me dig deep to get through the last miles? Not really.  Did I pass the cookie up at the end?  Are you crazy?  I haven't had a snickerdoodle in ages! Ah, but I'm supposed to record a post about the ride not just the cookie I ate afterwards.  Fine, fine.  Let's get on with it.
NO CLIMBING!  That's what I should have started this post with - a big huge Hallelujah, there was no climbing on this ride.  A metric century, for those that don't know, is 100km, or approximately 62 miles.  Was I worried? No, not really.  In fact, although I had not ridden in two weeks, I figured that since there wasn't any climbing, it shouldn't be too difficult to go seven more miles than our Estacada ride.  Alas, it had been two weeks and one day since I had been on my bike at all.  Various bits of life cropped up and I missed our group ride on 17 April.  I was extremely happy to know that this was a flat ride. 
So, I was riding through a pool of marshmallows...no, I wasn't, but I just realized that a long flat ride makes for a rather boring post.  I could tell you that only about ten miles in, we saw the flashing lights and crowd of cyclists all watching as a rider was loaded into an ambulance, seemingly okay, but wearing a neck brace.  And two lines later, we are back to the boring post about the flat ride because we simply rode by this scene and I did not stop to get some cutting edge story out of it.  This IS kind of like riding through a pool of marshmallows: slow.  Daniel Tosh and his dreams. (Go to 3:57 of that video and you can stop wondering why I am talking about pools of marshmallows.)
So, we rode amongst about 3,000 other cyclists that wanted a cookie from the capitol building to Champoeg - the lunch stop and turnaround point.  For those that opted to have lunch provided as part of their registration, they got to go stand in line and collect a sandwich.  I had not, so I ate my delicious Power Bar and yummy gel blasts.  Mmmm.  I'm not sure why, but the group was rather content staying at this stop for a very long time.  I think we were stopped for a good 45 minutes.  They agreed we would not stop this long ever again, though.  I think it was partially visiting fun as the Eugene team was able to join up with us on this ride.
We hit the road again in smaller groups - a faster paceline and a more moderate paceline.  Of course, I joined the fast group because, well, I'm me.  The pace we were keeping is a pace I have kept on many rides: 18-20mph.  About mile 40, though, my hips starting burning like never before.  Really, I have never had hip problems.  I don't know if it was that I hadn't ridden in two weeks or what, but I was in pain.  I dropped our line down to 15-16mph.  It was a horrible moment.  Flat ride, only 40 miles in, and I was spent.  My group was very good about it, though.
We finished up our 62 and I couldn't have been happier to be done.  For being so flat and easy, it really wore me down.  I collected my reward - a monster snickerdoodle cookie - and vowed to get my rides in during the week.  Next Saturday's ride was another organized ride of 65 miles.  It was not going to be flat, so I would need to be in better shape.  (Note, this was several weeks ago and I've yet to get a ride in during the week. So much for my vows.)
While the cookie was a great reward, the best was an understanding team.  Go Team!

Random shout out...

Good food, good wine.  No, no, strike that.  Great food, great wine.  Nope, still not there.  Maybe it's just beyond a simple four word opener.  So, I'll do what I do best - I'll be wordy about it.  I call this a "random" shout out, by the way, because I'm about to touch on current stuff, whilst still very aware that I have yet to post about the last two rides.  You see, because it is random you can't get mad at me for this chaos.  Yes, it's a rule.  It's my blog, so I make the rules.  Don't try to argue. 
Back to the topic - a [random] shout out about food and wine.  We'll start with the wine (don't we always?).  I may make my brother blush, I may make him argue, and I may not care because I speak the truth.  I don't think anyone would ever describe me as the most trusting of people.  I don't delegate much because most of the time, I just feel I'm better off doing it myself.  When it comes to knowing wine, I trust my brother implicitly, as do many others.  He understands wine - not in a pompous "I'm now going to go on for the next 20 minutes about just one aspect of this wine you could never hope to understand" kind of way - but really understands it.  When you understand something through and through versus memorizing some facts about it, you can talk to someone about it from any aspect and they start to understand too - they get wrapped up in the story you are telling them.  Yes, the story.  Wines have stories.  He knows them.  People like to hear them.  This is why when I thought of doing some sort of wine fundraiser, I went to him.  Delegation - you betcha!  He has put in quite a bit of work to develop a theme, consider various wines carefully, and discuss things with my next shout out to make sure the evening will be truly enjoyed by those that attend.  So, for his work, unbelievable knowledge, and agreeing to accept delegation and talk about wines at my event, this wine shout out goes to my brother, Zach.
The second half of this shout out is the food.  Incredible wine is only made better by incredible food and vice versa.  I mean, really, eat, drink, be merry - right?  Hmm...maybe it CAN be summed up in four words.  Oh well, already on a roll with my wordiness.  The best pasta around can be found at Justa Pasta.  Whether eating there or taking some homemade pasta home to make (our household favorite is the caramelized onion ravioli and we aren't even vegetarians anymore! yum!), Justa Pasta is awesome. (Wow, that really sounded like a canned plug! It's the truth, though.) So, of course, they were the perfect choice for a place to host a wine dinner and trust with the food.  Yes, just as I trust Zach with wine, I trust Justa Pasta with food.  Since I really did kind of drop the whole thing in Zach's lap and then kind of in Justa Pasta's, too, I really haven't done a bit of work!  Zach has worked with Roland, JP's owner, to put together a menu and I haven't done a thing!  It's really, truly awesome.  So, food shout out goes to Justa Pasta.  Thanks for all your work and for helping to make this super easy on me, while providing fantastic food for me to dine on!
Eat, Drink, Be Merry.  Easily done if Zach picks your wine and Justa Pasta makes your food.

Oh, if you are wondering about the wine dinner, I must remind you that there is an order to this here blog.  Be patient - I haven't even posted about my last two rides, so I can't very well start telling you about something coming up!  Go drink a glass of wine and relax a bit - jeesh.

pEstacada

I'm not entirely sure at what point the "P" was dropped from the name of this town, but I assure you, it was originally named Pestacada. A Portland cyclist could hope that when one drives such a distance from the windy Gorge, one is rewarded with a beautiful ride, protected from such nasty elements that the Gorge is known for. Not true.
10 April 2010, I set out at 7am, the horrid hour that it is on a Saturday, headed for this small town where we would begin our ride. This was the first ride that I did not look up the elevation, so I wouldn't psyche myself out dreading hills. I am not sure why, but I thought that this was supposed to be a pretty flat out and back ride. Fantasy, maybe? As I am sure you have guessed, I was wrong. One mile into the ride, we began our 2.5mi trek up a hill - that's right, muscles cold and all. Now, the average grade was 7-percent, which to those hill lovers and avid cyclists might be shrugged off. For me, however, it tore open a whole new creative side of me whereby I was able to make up expletives that might even make Denis Leary blush. I have waited over three weeks to make this entry so that I could calm myself enough to be sure none of those slipped into this post. After all, I am still the angelic daughter my parents believe me to be. 0:-) (I think that is a smiley with a halo on it...I'll consult a teen.)

So, the summit finally arrives and then it's my favorite part: the descent! This was awesome. Yes, we were on a highway, but it was four lanes and not many cars, so if you needed to pass, there was plenty of room. Halfway down it struck me - this is an out and back ride. Pestacada!!! Oh well, enjoy the few miles of speed. Shortly thereafter, we were met with the wind that assures me that this place was called Pestacada at one time. The wind is more of a pest than rain. Truly. There were moments when we were going downhill, yet we had to pedal - hard - to continue moving against the wind. What??? That's not how it's supposed to work. Yet more strings of expletives.
Linda, Mari, and I were riding together. We were pace lining as best you can with only three people, as we fought against the wind and worked out way to the turn around point. I arrived feeling rather famished, dry, and really happy to think about how that wind would be hitting us as we headed back. Our SAG was there at the Ripplebrook Ranger Station...hmmm, three weeks ago, don't hold me to the name of that. He had PB&Js, PowerBar Gel Blasts (my fave!), and other yummy stuff. We had a quick bite, filled our water and decided to get moving as others started arriving. Not that we didn't want to be social, we just didn't want to get cold.
As we set off, I noticed that I'd only logged 25 miles. This was supposed to be a 55-mile ride. Being the math genius that I am, I was quickly able to compute that this was only going to be 50-miles. Upsetting. I was set on my 55! So, as we rode, wind at our backs, I was thinking. There was a road that went around that nasty climb we had done at the beginning of the ride. It went down to the Faraday Dam and then on to North Fork Dam and their respective reservoirs. About halfway back, I asked Mari and Linda what they thought about doing a 2.5mi out and back on that road to get us to our 55-miles. After looking at me like I was nuts and a bit too anal about the ride distance, I got a maybe from Mari, but Linda was going to be out of time. Mari had carpooled with another rider and so long as we could make good enough time to not keep the other rider waiting, she would be up for it. Yes! Motive to keep the speed up the rest of the way back.

Now, I need to interject just here to point something out. I COULD have suggested we take that road around that climb...you know, so we had plenty of time to get our extra five miles in, but I did not. Nope, I knew we had the climb coming and just like I always do when I know about a climb, I started psyching myself out about it. As we rode, I began wondering if I really had the amount of fuel left within me to do it. Am I going to have to walk? Dear god, no, I won't walk. I just won't. It's not Laurelwood for crying out loud. No, walking isn't an option. Take a break halfway up? Maybe. Only as a last resort...wham! The wind suddenly changed direction and hit me from the side, nearly blowing me over. More expletives. Yeah, it's one of those unexpected things mother nature likes to do when you find yourself a little too deep in thought on a ride. A little jolt back to reality. As it happens, this little jolt came as we were going down a bit of a hill and somewhere between 35 and 40mph. "Wham" is really not a great word to describe wind hitting you from the side, but as it had about the same effect that I feel a bat or a robin flying at me would, I will let it stand.
The hill was before me. Oh how I remember just hours ago when I enjoyed flying down it. As much as I psyche myself out approaching hills, I also play little psychological games to get myself up the things. It's only a mile, Heather. I stare at the computer, ticking off each tenth of that mile. Do I know that this hill is more than a mile long: abso-friggen-lutely. Will I convince myself otherwise? Let's just say, I can be very convincing to myself. So, that mile runs out and I switch to the little white reflector poles lining the highway. There are only ten to the top...tick them away. Dam. No, literally, I should have gone around the way of the dams. Back to mileage. Okay, so there can't be more than half a mile left at this point. Do I have a half mile of air left to breathe? Do I have any gears left? Dams. Only a tenth left of that little half mile game and still...oh wait, I see the summit. Puuuuuuussshhhhh. Yes, it is like labor. Breathe. Push. Breathe. Swear. See? Just like labor...only without the pain down there because on a ride we're well equipped with Chamois Butt'r (yep, another product plug) to keep us from such added issues. Hmm..So, yeah, sorry guys, it's not really like labor. And with that little side thought, I found myself at the top. Psychological games and odd conversations with myself win out again!

Down the hill we go, treating our legs to a well-earned respite and cool ourselves down. Near the bottom, Mari and I turn left and ride out on Faraday Road our 2.5 miles. This was actually quite lovely and I'm glad we did it. As we rode, we encountered one of our team riding in the opposite direction - they had opted to take this road back instead of doing the climb. If only I could package my head games for them to use to get up those hills.
I was tired and really quite moseying along these extra miles, but I was content - I got my 55. Longest ride to date. I hated the hills, I hated the wind, but it was over and I loved it. Expletives withdrawn.

Chain Reaction...

03 April was a cold, rainy, very "Portland" day.  I was up at the crack of dawn and, of course, not happily so.  I dreaded the day before I even looked outside to see our dreary riding conditions.  Hellacious climbing was on the docket for the day.  I hate climbing.  Not necessarily because it's hard, which is an understatement for me, but because it is my weakness.  I can fool people into thinking I am a fairly strong rider until we hit the slightest hill and my true, newbie colors shine through.  And yes, before you comment and say something so wonderfully insightful like "well, Heather, that's why you need to do more climbing - the more you do it, the easier it will get," you should know that I am already aware of such things.  I will do it more, but in the meantime, I will continue to HATE it.  So, where were we?  Oh yes, I'm awake and it's early!  And I know today's ride has a lot of climbing!  And, I look outside and it's raining!  And it's cold! 
So, we began at NW 25th and NW Raleigh, heading south towards Washington Park - home of the Rose and Japanese Gardens - but don't think about those right now because those are serene and lovely and we are in a gray and miserable story right now.  We made our way up through the park and then up Fairview to Skyline.  After crossing Burnside or Barnes - whichever it is at that point - and continuing up Skyline, still climbing, we had a visitor on the road.  It's this white, horrid stuff and there it was...all over the road. The four letter S-word.  Yep.  Snow.  And you guessed it - I hate snow.  Are you miserable with me yet?
I did have a brief moment of happiness in my climb as I passed Brynwood and thought, my climb wasn't so bad.  If that doesn't make sense to you, go drive, ride, run, walk, crawl up Brynwood from Miller to Skyline - then you'll understand...or I could just tell you that it's a 24% grade climb, but it is only 1/3mi long.  I could also smile because I knew that I'd done the initial climb of today's 50-mile ride.  Small hills here and there and then a couple miles up Springville lay ahead.  All of that in the first 20 miles of our ride.  After that, it was a fairly flat ride.  Just get through that first 20.  So, I trudged along Skyline to Thompson, took a left and had a lovely descent that worked wonders at taking my well-heated body and turning it into an icicle by the time I reached the bottom.  We stayed on Thompson as it turned into West Union and followed it out to 185th.  We made a restroom stop at a Subway here, which since I did not purchase anything from them and they specifically state that their restroom is not for public use, I feel it necessary to give them a plug.  So, thank you, Subway, for allowing us the use of your facilities.  Five dollar footlongs, people, five-dollar-footlongs. 

We headed north up some rolling hills on 185th to Germantown.  We didn't stay on Germantown long before hanging a right onto Kaiser for a few more rollers back to Springville.  Kaiser.  To some, this says, "healthcare" or "HMO," but to me it says, "you were right when you thought that you shouldn't have bothered getting up today."  We started climbing a hill, I shifted gears, my chain came off, but I managed to unclip and avoid falling over despite coming to a immediate stop. yay.  I told the others to continue on, I was just going to put my chain back on and be on my way.  But no.  As I put it on, I saw this mangled excuse for a link.

While I gave it a shot anyway, I knew this was the end of my ride for the day.  Sure enough, there was a kerchunk sound each time that link came round and then the chain would just drop to the next cog all upon direction of that link.  17.6 miles.  That was the intersection of Kaiser and Springville, where I awaited the SAG vehicle to come and pick me up.  A spare chain is just not something I keep on me.  17.6 miles.  Let me back up and reiterate that most of the ride's climbing was in the first 20 miles of the ride.  Springville Road was the last of it for the most part.  After that, we were just going to descend Newberry to Hwy 30, head north to Sauvie Island, do a loop there and head back down Hwy 30 to our start location.  I was so close to having the part of the ride I dreaded most done and out of the way. Irritating.  Very irritating. 

So, back at my car, I packed my bike into the back, took this picture, ran home and changed into dry clothes, and headed to Lakeside Bikes.  They were busy, but Gordon took the time to check my bike out anyway.  They put another chain on, adjusted my derailleurs, kept the chain to show the Campy rep, and off I went - no charge.  So, here comes my second plug of this post: Lakeside Bikes.  I have always received friendly and prompt service there.  They are awesome.  I highly recommend them should you need to purchase a bike, get information on bikes, or for maintenance.  Oh, and I used their restroom, too, but they do not offer five-dollar-footlongs. 

So that's it.  I headed off to watch my daughter play volleyball for the rest of the day.  I was done trying to defeat all the elements that were screaming at me from the moment I got up that morning.  Some days are just a chain reaction of bad moments - pun intended.

Centennial Trail of Beauty

This past weekend was another volleyball tournament weekend that took us to Spokane, Washington.  We hit the road just after 6am (all of you shaking your head thinking that isn't possible for me, quit now - it's true!) with my bike packed in the back of the car.  Thanks to the convenience of my daughter's team playing in the afternoons, I figured I'd still be able to ride Saturday morning even though I wasn't with my team.
I set out from River Front Park in downtown Spokane on the Centennial Trail.  This is a paved trail for pedestrians and cyclists that follows along the river out to the Idaho border.  (The trail actually continues in Idaho under a different name that currently escapes me and because it's early morning, I am too lazy to Google it for you.  Sorry.)

It was a fairly flat ride the entire way.  For a section of the trail that runs along Upriver Road (they are so darn creative with their naming system there), cyclists are directed to use the bike lanes on the road.  I apparently missed the signage that directed me to turn back onto the path, though and wound up in a soccer/baseball field sports park.  I figured the trail must continue at the other end or something, but after circling the park and finally looking at the park map, there was no Centennial Trail to be found.  So, I backtracked a bit and found the trail.  This little side trip added a bit of mileage and a short hill.  Gotta love that! 
Back on the trail.  After you get about ten miles out of the downtown area, there aren't many on the trail and with the incredible weather that day, the scenery was amazing.  If I had a bottle of wine with me at the time, I very well could have pulled off and sat by the river enjoying a glass - to get my antioxidants, of course...they were feeling a bit low at the time.  I really did think about this as I was riding, but alas, did not have a bottle of wine with me - maybe next time.  What I did have was a speed limit.  This cracked me up.  On our trip to Spokane for last year's tournament, I got a speeding ticket.  Everyone seemed to remember, as before the trip this year, I received many comments about driving safe and avoiding any tickets.  So, as I passed the 15mph speed limit sign on this path that doesn't allow motor vehicles, I looked down to see that I was currently just over 20mph.  I wondered, "Do they actually patrol this?  Could I seriously get a speeding ticket on my bike?"  Well, I did not, but I am still curious - how do they enforce that speed limit? 

When I got to the Washington/Idaho state line, I had logged 25 miles.  I wasn't sure how much my "detour" had added, but almost hoped I was looking at my first 50 mile ride.  I crossed the bridge into Idaho just to say that I had been to Idaho and back, got a few pictures and headed back.  (The blue sign in the picture on the left is the Welcome to Idaho sign - my proof.)
Even without the added miles of losing the trail, I knew I was about to log my longest ride.  I had no idea how the trip back would be.  Would I run out of water?  Would I run out of energy?  Would my seat be way too sore to handle?  I was taking it easy most of the time, not really pushing speed, but just trying to keep a decent cadence.  Apparently, that was the way to go about it because I was back downtown before I knew it.  No issues.  I ate a PowerBar on the way back and made sure to keep drinking water, but never ran out of anything. 
Total trip came in at 48.25 miles.  It took me 3 hours, so I was averaging 16mph - a bit low for my goal, especially considering this was a flat course.  However, I was fine with it because I haven't gotten a lot of riding in lately and wasn't even sure how I would do completing it.  So, I was happy with the result and it felt great to be out riding on such a lovely, sunny day.  I have never really enjoyed Spokane in the past few years we have gone to volleyball tournaments there. This time, I enjoyed it and even saw why people choose to live there.  No, I won't be moving there, but visiting will be nice.

The next day, I expected to be sore, but was pleasantly surprised.  The girls played in the morning and then we were to head home.  While they were doing some ref'ing duties, I headed out for a quick ride before we hit the road.  It wasn't quite 15 miles and felt EXTREMELY short after Saturday's ride, but it was great.  Rolling hills, nothing terribly steep, but more than I'd had on the Centennial Trail.  I was back after 50 minutes.  The girls had just finished up, so I ran into the bathroom to change and we headed back to Portland.  Home again, home again, jiggity jig.  Great weekend, beautiful rides.  63 miles total and considering we were busy out of town this weekend, I'll consider that good mileage. 
Have you seen my fundraising thermometer?  It's totally up there!  So, I dedicate the beauty of this weekend's ride to all of you that have supported me.  I'll even throw in dedication of the glass of wine I got to have when we finally got home Sunday night.  Mas des Chimeres 2007.  Yum, yum, super yum.  Haven't had it?  You probably should.  Cheers.

The untold total...

I know I've been a bit whiny about my sickness lately (well, okay, the last month, at least!), but it's not to be mistaken for not wanting to do this or that I really feel sorry for myself.  On the contrary, it's quite lovely to have something like this going on during a sickness to keep me from just staying in my cozy bed and sleeping until I am better...can you imagine the hibernation period?  Anyway, I am incredibly grateful for the support I have received from everyone.  Through words of encouragement (even those that tell me to quit sniveling and get my whiny butt out there), the donations to support such a great cause, and those that head out on rides with me - both my Team In Training group and others outside my group.  Thank you.  Not all of that is reflected in my status bar  - but those intangibles are incredibly valuable and appreciated. 

Speaking of my fundraising status bar, there are several mail donations I have mailed in that are not reflected yet - so it's not always showing the tangibles, either.  When everything is finally in, my total as of today is actually $3970.  Only $1030 to go until I meet that goal!  Incredible.  Thanks so much everyone - for all you do!  I will use the positive thoughts of each of you to complete that ride tomorrow.  Hard to complain about 70-degree weather here in March.  Spring is here and I am starting to think my cold may really be newly developed allergies.  Bring it, pollen, I won't quit!

End of the Oregon Trail lollipop ride

This past weekend's ride began out in Oregon City at the End of the Oregon Trail Interpretive Center...otherwise known as the place with the big covered wagons off I-205.  The ride was to begin at 8am, but I started mine around 9:30. 

My mom had been in town for a very short two day visit, whereby our family once again proved how well we can consume wine.  Family gatherings for us always mean good food (thank you, Zach & Pizza Fino) and good wine (this time we stuck with several wines from Podere Ruggeri Corsini: Dolcetto, Nebbiolo, Barbera, Barbera "Armujan", and Barolo...ah yes...the Barolo).  Anyway, it was a wonderful two days and mom had to be at the airport around 830/9 on Saturday morning.  The plan was that I would head to my ride and my daughter would take my mom to the airport.  However, as I went out to the garage to get the bike in the car, I discovered my back tire was flat.  I sent a message to the team letting them know I'd be late and not to wait for me.  Once I did that, I apparently felt that meant I could chill and visit a bit more with mom before she left.  Fixed the tire, visited, said goodbyes and finally left the house around 845.  All the while, hacking up a lung because, yes, I STILL seem to have this sickness. 

When I pulled into the parking lot at our meeting site, there were a few cyclists in matching kits.  After a bit of discussion about my being late to meet up with my group and such, I was invited to ride with this team on their ride.  I explained I felt I should do the same route my group was doing and they said that was fine - they may branch off a different direction at some point, but we'd start out the same direction.  So, off we went around 930.  I was only with them for about 3.5mi when my battery in my GPS died.  I hate not having all my stats and such after a ride, so I stopped to change the battery and they continued on.  

As I started back up, I was coughing quite a bit.  I kept drinking water hoping it would make the dry scratchiness in my throat go away.  As a result, I drank my first bottle of water in about twenty minutes.  Then I started getting nauseous.  I don't know if it was the constant coughing, the fullness from water, the may vitamins I took in the morning, or what, but I knew things were about to get really bad, as I rotated between being really hot and then really cold.  I finally pulled off and stopped about 45min in - just before the climb I couldn't see waiting around the corner for me.  When I thought I felt better, or rather convinced myself of such, I continued.  When I saw the climb, I just about turned around and said screw it.  But I did not.  I made it up the hill, closed the loop and considered heading back instead of doing the next loop the route was dictating.  It wasn't the same loop I'd just done, but I knew it must climb over the same hill.  I told myself I would just go to the turning point and then head back, knowing full well this was just how I talk myself into doing the whole thing.  So, around that second loop and stupid, crappy, hill climb I went...coughing all the while; getting pissed off at how weak and slow I was feeling and, of course, at how long this sickness has held on to me.  I stopped halfway up the hill to clear my lungs and let my heart rate drop a bit.  As I glanced up to the summit, a runner came over it and headed down toward me and my immediate jealousy that he was going DOWN the hill.  As he got closer, I noticed he had a big grin and then said, "You're almost there, you can do it."  My replacement team, I guess - thank you, Mr. Anonymous Runner.  Yes, I could do it, so long as I could successfully get started considering I was on a nice slope.  This didn't seem to be the problem I thought it would, though.  I got going, clipped in, and climbed the rest out of the saddle.  As I nice reward, I got a lovely descent shortly thereafter, providing enough wind whipping at my face to cool me down (a bit too much, even). 

Back the Interpretive Center where we began, I literally thought I might never stop coughing - at least for the day.  I'd been out of water from the two bottles I carried (a first for that) for quite some time, so after stowing my bike in the car, I went to locate a fountain, only to find one still turned off for the winter...that or the center relies on your thirst to sell their bottled water.  I bought two and had the first gone before I was back to my car. 

A 35-mile ride doesn't normally kick my butt the way it did Saturday.  Cycling has definitely made me value my health even more.  I take my vitamins daily, I get my sleep, and I keep a healthy, balanced diet (don't even start about the wine...it provides antioxidants and iron).  This next Saturday's ride will be out to Multnomah Falls...plenty of climbing there, so keep fingers crossed that my head and lungs have cleared out.