Post-Ride Report

3 hours and 10 minutes.  Not too bad for someone to complete a 50 mile bike ride who hasn't trained at all for it and recovering from a bad fall 2 weeks ago.

The ride started with a few thousand people trying to squeeze through the start point in Rosarito.  I've never seen so many people with bikes.  It almost reminded me of Critical Mass, multiplied by 100.  Once we got through the stragglers, my group split up.  Tammy forgot her cycling shoes, so she was in the back.  Evan was on his "antique" Bianchi, which has been affectionately named Black Angus (by yours truly) for its all-steel brute heft.  If he managed to finish riding that behemoth faster than Marty, he's got legs.  I stuck with Marty and his Cannondale CAAD3, though he probably had the advantage of having longer legs.

The bike route was lined by people cheering and gawking. Traffic came to a dead halt around the start point, where they blocked off roads for the cyclists. Kudos to Rosarito and Ensenada for being supportive of such a ride, because I'm sure some people in cars wanted to mow us down. Kids lining the route extended out their hands, either to ask for candy or to get a high five from passing bikers. Some of them were bold and asked for money. The men on the side looked at all of us as though we were crazy for spending our weekend on our bikes to go 50 miles.

I was in a pretty good shape until half way through the course. The chart below depicts the beast in the middle that taught me a lesson in torture.  After the long hill, my legs were shot.  Since the crash 2 weeks ago, my legs have been cramping under heavy load.  My guess is that it hasn't been stretched enough and I've lost flexibility during the last 2 weeks while I was recovering. The hills weren't too bad until I was 3/4 of the way through the big incline. When I tried to pedal hard and got up from my seating position, my thighs felt a sharp muscle pain. I backed off immediately but still kept pedaling and switched to the granny gear.



The pain was forgotten when I reached the downhill. All the torture coming up the incline paid off marvelously, as we all went down at a thrilling 45 mph. Unfortunately, I didn't have the mass to accelerate down the hill. So all the fatties that I passed on the way up were zooming past me on the way down. Rest of the ride was supposed to be easy, but I struggled to the finish line because my of my leg cramps and loss of energy. After chomping furiously on an energy bar, I was able to hobble to the finish.

Once I crossed the line, I had to stand still for almost a minute to be able to walk. Even Pinocchio with his wooden leg could've walked more fluidly than me at that point. With no flexibility, I was able to walk like C3PO to find Marty, who had passed me 2 miles before the finish line. Both of us were somewhat relieved that neither of us would have to shave our legs, as we had betted that the last person to cross the finish line would say goodbye to shaggy legs. Just so it happens, the last person in our group was Tammy, so it wasn't really that big of a bet.

As painful as it was towards the end, the ride was fun overall. Even though I probably would've been able to finish the ride with less pain had I taken a long break in the middle, I felt accomplished. The lesson was learned and will be applied for the next ride. Maybe I'll have a new bike by then. There's a carbon frame out there with my name (and money) written on it.

Not Speedy Gonzalez

My sick fascination with pain is being put to the test on Saturday.  Not even 2 weeks since my spill on the bike path, I will be joining my friends to do a 50-mile ride in Mexico.  The ride starts off in Rosarito and ends in Ensenada.  Rosarito seems to be another name for Tijuana, which I'm not sure they did it intentionally.  Perhaps "Tijuana to Ensenada" doesn't quite have the same cachet.  Regardless, the event is touted as a "Fun Ride," so while there are avid cyclists who will be in it, the course is meant to accommodate the casual and recreational riders as well.

To be honest, this ride would've been pretty easy had I not been injured.  I'm about 75-80% recovered, but I will have to take it easy for most of the ride.  Despite the challenges, I am looking forward to it and I'm thinking that this could be something to get me into thinking about doing a century ride some time next year.  But maybe I'll upgrade my bike before starting training for a century.  Anyone feel particularly magnanimous to buy me a Bianchi or a Cannondale?

Cars: Objects imitating life

The health impact of obesity is so obvious that it really doesn't require any discussion.  But what really irks me is how it is affecting sizes of an average vehicle on the market in the United States.  The new Honda Accord is now a large full-size vehicle, which casts an obscenely huge shadow on its smaller predecessors.  The current Honda Civic is bigger than the first-generation Accord.  Sadly, the trend is seen in many cars and trucks, with each new generation putting on the pounds and inches like Anna Nicole Smith, circa 1994 to 2003 (may she rest in peace).  I hope that car manufacturers will put some sort of a brake on the ballooning of cars between model changes.  Bigger cars are hardly in vogue now, and keeping them at their current size seems perfectly fine.  Even more of a revolutionary thought is to downsize cars.  Mazda did so with their new 2, which is unfortunately not available this side of the pond.

American consumers also need to realize that maybe 3rd-row seating in an SUV is not necessary to haul around family and friends once every couple of months.  Rent a fucking SUV or sign up for a car-sharing service that will give you the options of driving something more substantial on that occasional basis.  If all you need is something for a commute, buy a subcompact.  For the love of everything green and righteous, just don't buy into that Hummer H2. 

Recovery Update: Open Wounds Suck

Today is 7 days post-accident.  While my physical recuperation is progressing, I found out that open wounds take far longer to heal than a mere week.  I switched from wound dressing to regular bandage yesterday.  The wound appeared to be okay, but today I found weird stains popping up on my jeans in the right knee area.  At first I thought I spilled something, but then I realized that the stain's source was inside my jeans.  Sure enough, there was drainage from my Band-Aid.  LOVELY.

I didn't have any spare bandage with me, so for the rest of the day I was relegated to leaving my jeans in a biohazard state.  All I hoped was that people would think I spilled cranberry juice on my knee.  Good thing the company that took us out to lunch today only saw me from the knee up.  Otherwise it would've been pretty embarrassing.  "Oh that?  It's just a little spotting.  You know, THAT time of the month."  MmmmHmm...

I'm also having a hard time scrubbing off the adhesives from the tape I used over the last week to hold together the wound dressing.  So all those fuzzies you see on the photo above are not dust bunnies that decided to make themselves home on my leg.  Also, those bandages are only a placeholder until I can find something more substantial.  I'm guessing that these small bandages will only be able to absorb 2 hours' worth of drainage.  The pads on the bandage are barely covering the wounds.

"This Might Hurt"

Karma must be one helluva bitch.  Here I am trying to be health-conscious and environmentally-aware by biking to work, and I crash on my bike.  On my way home last Wednesday, I rode through a swarm of insects that covered my face and shirt.  As I tried to swat them off of me, I hit an uneven patch on the road, lost control, and hit my right shoulder directly on a pole lining the bike path.  My knee hit the bottom part of the pole, along with the cable tied between adjacent poles.  There was a dime-sized patch on my knee where the top layer of skin was sheared off, along with a small gash.  Four more small patches on my shoulder are also without skin, and most of it turned into a lovely shade of blue, red, and purple.

Instead of asking for help, I picked up my tattered self, shook the remaining bugs off of my shirt, and rode 2 miles back to my house.  Blood streamed down my leg, abrasions covered my right arm, and dull pain spread across my right shoulder.  Initial assessment of the damages didn't seem that bad, but the pain got worse to the point of tears.  I got a ride to the ER, and spent the rest of the evening in pain.  Thankfully, the physicians found no dislocation or fracture.

My bike survived for the most part.  The wheels might need to be trued, but otherwise just small scratches.  Thank goodness, because I will be going to Mexico this next weekend for a 50-mile bike ride.  Let's hope the gigantic bruise on my butt is going to heal by then.  The bruise back there is entirely black.  Not a shade of gray or blue, but black.  I'd take a photo of it, but then I think that is outside the bounds of decency.

Will this experience prevent me from biking to work?  Probably not, as I'm debating whether I will get back on the saddle tomorrow or Tuesday.  We'll see how my ass feels in the morning.

What Horrible Traffic?

My coworkers have been complaining nonstop about how bad traffic has been over the past few weeks, thanks largely to LAUSD.  Boys and girls of LA county in K - 12 are back in classrooms, unless you happen to be in one of those rougher neighborhoods, then it's more likely to be K - 8.  Regardless, parents across the urban wasteland are busy shuttling their kids between the hours of 7 and 9 a.m.  I noticed that school buses are a rare occurrence in LA, probably because there is no tax money to support it.  This means parents are shoving their kids off their moving vehicles in front of schools and race to the office.  Somehow, every parent loses their collective minds and their ability to drive, creating mass chaos across Southern California.

How does this affect me?  Not a smidge, and it tickles me to say that.  My commute still takes only 30 minutes, and burning a little over 220 calories.  Aside from the cars stopped in traffic on Venice Blvd, I'm cruising at a lovely 15 mph to work.  Which, ironically, is what most cars in LA average during commuting hours. 

Just to make my commute to work a little more entertaining, I'm thinking about buying the iHome Cycler iPod speakers.  I'm sure people stuck in traffic will wonder where that trance/house music is coming from.

Website to Scare Yourself Sh*tless

LAPD has fueled my paranoia for the day.  I have been looking for an apartment recently (more blog posts to come on that topic), and I have been randomly checking up on neighborhoods that I'm interested in setting up an abode.  Because I tend to be thorough in my research, I found a crime map from LAPD.  After mapping an address of an apartment I'm checking out tomorrow, I'm rethinking the desirability of this location.  I guess when the person posted "Miracle Mile," I think he meant "Miracle Mile adjacent."  That's like saying "Beverly Hills adjacent" to mask that it's in Palms.  False advertising much?  Let's be honest, people.  I don't want to end up a blipping cyan/blue dot on the COMPSTAT map (which I think is for violent homicide).

The Dan Band

I've had quite a musical week, and tonight's outing put an interesting finish to it. Holy goodness, Dan is a crooner if I've ever seen one.  The Dan Band makes a name for itself by doing cover of songs that are originally performed by women.  If you hear them sober, maybe they're not quite as amusing.  Drink some Absolut Mandarin with Cranberry juice, and they become downright entertaining.  Hell, I was screaming "I love you DAN!!!" from the top balcony before I was finished with the second glass of spiked juice.  This was when it dawned on me that they should sell Absolut Mandarin with Cranberry juice in one of those juice boxes that I had as a child.  How wonderful would it be to throw one into the lunch box for a mid-morning break?  My personal favorite song from this evening goes to "I'm a Slave 4U."  Whether or not I like it because Britney is such a mess, I'm not certain.  One of the backup singer was pretty cute though.  

On another musical note, my company hosted Calvin Harris for a small show in our building yesterday.  KCRW was playing one of his songs the other day, and I've also uploaded a few tracks on my iPod.  He sounded decent live, but he sounds better in his album.  Some artists are great in the studio, and even greater live (see last post about El Ten Eleven), but Calvin Harris was not quite satisfying to listen to in-person.  Perhaps it was because the office wasn't jam-packed with fans, but a good entertainer can still get the crowd going with his stellar character.  Maybe he did better tonight at his performance at The Echo.  Regardless, "Merrymaking at my Place," "Vegas," and "Acceptable in the 80's" are notable highlights from his most recent album.  Granola approves.

I "Heart" El Ten Eleven

Kristian Dunn and Tim Fogarty rocked my evening tonight. The LA duo has released their second album this summer, and I've checked out their show a few times since May. After hearing one of their tracks on a podcast I listen to, I was hooked. Spin refers to them as a Silverlake-style Sigur Ros, which is a pretty apt description. Some artists tend to change their style so drastically that I do not tend to like their follow-up album, but Every Direction Is North did not fail to impress me after their self-titled debut album.

Their music is excellent, but it goes without saying that I also find them irresistibly cute. I'm torn between who I like better; Kristian or Tim? Tim the drummer is nothing short of amazing with those drumsticks, and he has the boy next door look that is worth seeing on a Tuesday night. And then there is Kristian, with his guitar/base doubleneck. Don't get me started on his lovely arms.

Perhaps the above makes me sound like a groupie, and I will gladly admit to that. I do not tend to be loyal to very many bands, but El Ten Eleven is just one of those that makes it worthwhile to go out on a weekday evening.

Some favorite tracks from their latest album are: Hot Cakes, Estrella, Keep, and Living On Credit Blues. But in all honesty, I find all of their tracks suitable for a good soundtrack.

Photo credit: omar_chatriwala on Flickr

Maybe Valet Next Time?

Something happened that was almost quintessentially Cher from Clueless: I lost my car in the parking lot of Century City Westfield mall. After deciding to go shopping at 8 p.m. before the mall closes at 9 p.m., I drove in madly to the lot and parked at the first spot I found. Jumped on the escalator and made a bee-line to BR. Got what I wanted, flirted with the shopguy, and headed over to J. Crew for 5 minutes before the mall closed. As I stepped into the parking garage, I inexplicably lost all senses and didn't know where my car was. One row up, not there. One row down, nada. Circle my way around, zilch. Sh*t.

Yes, I have an alarm on my car and I do have a remote. But the battery died on it a week ago, and haven't gotten around to replacing it. So of course I can't use it to locate my damn car. This brought back memories of when I had to look for my car when it got towed away in Northwest Portland.

The gas fumes and the heat inside the garage got to me, and I got slightly dizzy. Just when I was about to go on the second loop around the garage, I was all of a sudden reunited with my car. I was relieved that I didn't have to go seek help from the guards and drive me around in a golf cart. Some day, when I have a disposable income with cash to burn, I will valet. Until then, I will keep fresh batteries in my car alarm remote at all times. After I got back into my car, I remembered the following quote from "Clueless".

Joe: You want to practice parking?
Cher: What's the point? Everywhere you go has valet.

Preach on, Cher. You're my hero.

Admittedly, the true Granola way is to bike to the mall. But when the urge to shop hits, and the mall is only open for another hour, one must break some moral rules to go satisfy the ravenous consumer within.