Over the last few months I’ve been melting into a sort of crisis of conviction. When I first got back into cycling a few summers ago, I wanted to reconnect with an activity that I had always enjoyed and in the process jump start my aging metabolism. As a teenager I used to cruise around a large network of fire trails up near my house but I had no interest in the sport.

It wasn’t until mid-life began to loom ahead of me and the sports media caught on to a young whipper-snapper named Lance Armstrong that I began to take an interest in the sport of road racing. Floyd Landis’ heroic effort in the 2006 Tour de France inspired me to take up training for real, but at this point I didn’t know what I was training for.

Then, while climbing up the Torrey Pines hill, I saw “San Diego Century Riders” scribbled in chalk in the bike lane. I had no idea what a century was, but knew I had to find out.

The idea of 100 miles in a single day was surely daunting but I knew that I had it in me. And then one day, I did it. Since then, I’ve participated in several organized rides and I’ve really enjoyed them, especially the SAG support. But while organized century rides are inherently challenging, they have almost become routine.

Last weekend’s event made me face a part of my personality that isn’t compatible with organized events: I ride alone. I didn’t much care for peloton riding during the Bulldog bike race or the Alpine Challenge, and while riding in a paceline is preferable to a peloton, I don’t have much heart for that either. I don’t want to worry about crossing wheels or etiquette; I prefer solitude.

Besides, any paceline is only as strong as its weakest link. I don’t want to weigh anyone down and conversely I don’t want to be weighed down by anyone else.

During all this training, I was driven to prove to myself that I’m competitive, and I think I’ve done that. I bet I can compete with the top 10% of cyclists out there. But I’m not getting any younger and I don’t have the conviction, discipline, or incentive to truly compete at that level. In other words, I have no heart for organized road racing.

But I do have heart for something else, and I feel it runs much deeper than the testosterone-charged thrill of dropping other cyclists on the hills. I was in a pretty messed up mental state on last weekend’s ride and I think that deep down I use the physical exertion of endurance cycling in an attempt to exorcise the negative energy of my life.

Those who know me know that I’m not what you’d typically call a happy person, nor am I particularly religious in the traditional sense. I periodically cycle through some pretty intensely negative emotion: anger, fear, hate… you know, all that stuff that leads to the dark side. I don’t know if I’m running away from or running toward something but I feel that pushing my physical limits is a sort of crucible for me: I don’t feel that spiritual growth can occur without breaking down the physical body. This is a pretty gross analogy but this is much the same as the mythology surrounding Christ’s crucifixion.

So I find myself wondering what to do. I think I’m done with organized events, but I need to set some goals or I will continue to feel lost. Maybe I need to take up randonneuring. Maybe I need to start planning my own self-supported long-distance rides. My first century was completely unsupported, and maybe it’s time to return to those roots. There are a lot of mountains to be climbed.

Yesterday I rode the San Diego Century. Another well-organized event, with well-equipped SAG stops at good intervals, staffed by very friendly folks.

The packet pickup was slated to begin at 6:00 and the official start time was at the riders’ discretion between 6:00 and 8:00, and as I arrived at around 5:40 I saw that people were already heading out. Volunteers were already manning the packet pickup tables (thanks guys!) so I quickly got my packet and fumbled around with the bib #, trying to find a place on my bike where it wouldn’t get in the way of my knees. I finally decided I was happy with everything and queued up in a small group of about 10 riders at the light. My cycle computer read 6:09.

The light turned green and I was immediately annoyed by everyone around me. I was behind maybe two others and they were all bumbling around trying to get their feet clipped into their pedals; meanwhile I was clipped in and rearing to go. I bolted past them all and began a two-hour long tear through the hills of Encinitas and Rancho Santa Fe.

I have to admit to being in a completely psychotic state of mind. In the morning I had woken up an hour before my alarm went off. I had just dreamed that I had completed the century in under 4 hours and my son was asking me why I was so arrogant. I was unsettled by that dream and couldn’t get back to sleep, and when I went outside to pack my car I saw that the cold night air had caused a 1-inch crack in the windshield to expand to 6 inches. Apparently my car doesn’t like bike events, because the initial crack was caused by a rock hitting the windshield not a quarter mile away home from this year’s Alpine Challenge. This, combined with a general feeling of annoyance at other cyclists, traffic signals, and motorists, gave me a sort of tunnel vision toward a singular goal: to get the hell away from everyone.

I passed people like crazy going up all the hills. I passed two guys going downhill only to be stopped at a light where I needed to make a right turn, but a car was going left in front of me. I could either sustain my speed, blow the stop light, and hope the car wouldn’t go wide, or slow and wait for the car to go. My commuting experience told me to defer to the car, but the two guys I had just passed were now barreling behind me, yelling “RIGHT, RIGHT!” I turned and yelled back, “I KNOW” as I started my right turn, and they replied “I just don’t want a pileup.”

That just pissed me off. I know I broke whatever messed up unspoken cyclist code that says you’ve got to blow through stoplights, but frankly I’ve seen and escaped a lot of crap on the road and I’d like to think I’ve learned a thing or two. And one thing I’ve learned is that safety is far more valuable than convenience.

This exchange, and my embarrassment over it, put more fire into my legs. I dropped those two guys and went to work on a few others in front of me. As I reeled in two more, I looked behind me to see if any cars were coming before I overtook them only to find a barnacle stuck on my wheel. Well, as long as he didn’t try anything stupid I’d let him draft, but I was sure not going to let him pull. This was my century.

I waited for a safe opportunity to overtake the two guys but they took back their position during the next flat section. I got on their wheel, plotting my revenge, and I saw that they were both fighting each other, not so much trading pulls as trading positions. I drafted for a couple of minutes to recover, then at the next hill I took off and didn’t see them again.

I began to wonder if I wasn’t killing myself too hard, but I didn’t care. If I bonked going into Ramona, so be it. I wanted to come home knowing that I hadn’t given up any opportunity to push as hard as I could.

There’s a SAG stop just before the hill into Ramona, and I made sure to top off my water bottles since the memory of running out of water in last year’s brutal heat was in my mind. The folks at the SAG stop said I was the first one there, though I saw one cyclist that I had recently passed blow by while I was refilling. I hastily made my way out and I was soon headed up the “purple monster” to Ramona. The hill up Scripps Poway Parkway to highway 67 is fairly challenging, but today the heat wasn’t much of an issue and there were two cyclists farther ahead who spurred my legs to pass them before the 67.

Left on highway 67, and more climbing before the descent into Ramona. I didn’t see any other cyclists at this point, and most importantly I did not see any in the opposite direction. I began to think that I was first into Ramona.

I stopped at the Ramona SAG stop and the workers confirmed that I was the first cyclist through. They were antsy to get more customers. I quickly ate a little, topped off my water, and hopped onto my bike for the last leg back to Encinitas. As I pulled out, the cyclist who I had seen go through the last SAG stop pulled in.

I hightailed it out of Ramona, back over the 67, and back over Scripps Poway Parkway. I saw huge groups of cyclists in the opposite direction and thought that the Ramona SAG station would soon be overwhelmed. The heat was beginning to settle in as the marine layer had by now burned off, but as soon as I began the descent into Poway, I could feel cool air and almost smell the salt in the air. This was nothing like last year, when there was no marine layer at all and the temperature was in the high 90s all the way through Poway and hotter in Ramona.

By this time, my energy was beginning to ebb and flow. But the miles were ticking away quickly, and as I watched them click through 70, 80 miles I still felt pretty good. There are a couple of nasty little vindictive hills toward the end of the course in Rancho Penasquitos but I made short work of them and was soon at the coast.

No century would be complete without my going a little off course, and I did so by making a premature right turn off highway 101 onto Lomas Santa Fe. The intersection looked familiar from last year, but as soon as I made the right turn, I knew something was off. I made an immediate right turn, then turned back around, then got back on Lomas Santa Fe again and went all the way up the hill before realizing that Lomas Santa Fe was way too early. I headed back down and looked at my cycle computer, which now registered 100 miles in 5 hours, 15 minutes.

I got back to highway 101 and back on track. I sailed into Mira Costa college to finish in 5:30:49 (excluding stops). My cycle computer’s clock read 11:55, so about 5 hours, 46 minutes total. They have commemorative mugs at the stop for the three different courses, and as I picked mine up the guy at the table said I was the first one.

So… first place? Oh yeah, it’s a ride, not a race!

This weekend I will participate in the San Diego Century. I’m excited to see how well I’ll improve over last year with my road bike. After the Alpine Challenge, I feel really confident about this ride (not a race, despite what the URL leads you to believe). However, there were a lot of things working for me at the Alpine Challenge: cool weather, very little wind, and good health. Let’s hope I can keep my hubris in check; while I’ve survived a fair number of centuries, as Captain Solo said, “Great, kid. Don’t get cocky.”

I queued up at the start line, somewhere near the front and middle. I knew Arlyn would be there, and sure enough I saw his shiny red Trek at the very front with members of the Descenders. I made a mental note to try and catch them and match their pace.

Catching them turned out to be a little bit difficult, and I’m learning how quickly the starting group of riders pulls away from the rest. Once I had bridged up to them, we were well on our way up the first hill (the first little bump in the elevation profile). I kept pace, sometimes riding next to Arlyn, not sure if I should introduce myself but figured it would be way too awkward; it could wait until the event was done. I rode up to the front of the group and enjoyed being in “first place” for a little while, just like I did at the beginning of the Bulldog bike race.

The first elevation bump gives way to a fairly long descent, which was fun, but I’m still not comfortable in a group of riders. I have a hard time staying on others’ wheels; it just feels dangerous, and I hate having to constantly be on the brakes. I’m pretty sure I annoy others behind me because I let gaps form in front of me and I’m not as smooth as I should be on the brakes. There was an interesting moment when an SUV made a U-turn in front of us, spitting dirt at the front of the pack. Sure enough, a little later, the SUV stopped to make a left turn and we almost turned into pancakes as the smell of burning brake pads filled the air.

The meat of the ride is the 20-odd mile climb up Dehesa Road and Japatul Valley Road. The pack thinned out, with a group of riders immediately breaking off the front. I stayed with Arlyn’s group of Descenders, knowing that they were well experienced and that trying to keep up with the lead group would probably kill me later on. I don’t completely remember how things panned out, but I think I picked up my pace at one point and dropped Arlyn’s group. I was climbing solo for awhile, passing a couple of guys, then got passed by a guy with what appeared to be Shimano’s new electronic derailleur. I glued myself to his wheel and sneakily passed him after drafting on one of the short downhills that break up the climb. Electronic derailleur guy helped me push the pace so that I eventually caught up with a group that included a pair of Descenders. I didn’t see electronic derailleur guy again, which surprised me, since he had sustained a strong tempo up the hill.

I seem to recall that the two Descenders had two other guys with them, whom we dropped. I pushed the pace a little going up the hill, which thinned the group to just me and the Descenders. I think I heard one of the Descenders say something like “I think we dropped the little guy… or should I say Shadow Tour* guy dropped him.” I made a dumb joke about catching a bus after passing a bus sign, then made a mental note about not making stupid jokes.

I kept waiting for “the wall” to come, which I remember from last year. It’s a portion of the climb that seems to go straight up for a hundred yards or so, but I think we made it over without realizing it was there. Have I told you how much I love my new bike?

I rode with the two Descenders for a bit, and we picked up two more guys, forming a somewhat disorganized group of five that finished the climb through Japatul. I found the Descenders to be tough nuts to crack. I’m not much of an attacker, but I can increase my tempo and sustain it pretty well. They always stuck to my wheel when I took the lead and I knew there was no dropping them. Soon we were on our way to Pine Valley.

I got dropped during the long downhill to Pine Valley. One of the 2 guys that we had picked up turned out to be an insanely fast downhiller, and two of our group were keen to stay on his wheel as I dropped back with the fifth guy in the group. I think the fifth guy was one of the Descenders but I don’t quite remember. As the road turned flat in Pine Valley, the fifth guy powered ahead, leaving me behind to struggle against a headwind to bridge back up to them. I finally made it, and there was a SAG stop where the Descenders wanted to get water. I would have stopped with them, but there was no Porta-Potty and I had to pee, so I decided to ride to the next SAG stop for water and facilities.

The ride through Pine Valley is a nice little break from all the hills, but it’s really just a fancy u-turn to head back up the hill that we had just descended. The two Descenders caught us right before the uphill, and I learned later that they had decided against getting water after watching us pull away. I hung at the back of our group for a little, then felt my legs coming back and decided to pick up the tempo, so I put on a bit of gas and took the lead. As always, the Descenders were keen to my move and didn’t let go of my wheel, though I did lead our pack up the hill. I’d like to think I handed out some suffering but I have a feeling these guys have persevered through far worse.

We arrived at the SAG stop and I refilled my water, ate some food, and availed myself of the facilities. By this time the group was long gone, so I set out on my own to cover the last 10 or 15 miles back to the start/finish line.

At the end I saw that Arlyn had finished before me and I saw him talking to the SDBC guy that I had met at this year’s winter Stagecoach. I didn’t get a chance to introduce myself to Arlyn but talked to SDBC guy for a little bit (I still didn’t get his name).

I finally found a chance to introduce myself to Arlyn, who had by that time changed clothes so without his bike and kit I wasn’t completely sure it was him. Luckily my facial recognition software did not let me down and we chatted for a moment with one of his Descenders buddies. I’m such a nerd, but I was able to extricate myself before I made too much of an ass of myself.

Overall, a great ride. The weather was cool (to the point that my feet were cold in Pine Valley) and the wind was nominal. The ride is really well organized, with plentiful SAG stops and the course is very well-marked. I think this is one of my favorite events because the hills are such a challenge, but it won’t kill you the way a full century does. And you get a free** beer, massage, and meal at the end. And you get a nice little medal too, handed out by a pretty high school girl***. Did I mention the national anthem sung in 2-part harmony by 2 other pretty high school girls***?

Oh, and did I mention how much I love my new bike? Because I do. Check out the stats (and compare to last year’s):

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* I wore my Shadow Tour 2008 Stagecoach jersey today

** free with paid entry fee

*** I admit it, I’m a dirty old man

I don’t recall any flat areas of the Alpine Challenge last year, so I thought I’d find some free mapping sites* to confirm my lack of recollection. Indeed, the flats are few:

(click to view large)

I created that here, where you can examine the whole route if you’re into that sort of thing. Something seems a bit off though, as it reports a total elevation gain of 8900+ feet and a maximum grade of 30% (!!) whereas the ride’s organizers claim less than 7000 feet of climbing. I remember a wall somewhere in there but I can’t imagine it being anywhere near 30%.

At any rate, while the numbers are arguable, the elevation profile speaks for itself.

I mapped the same thing here. It has a snazzier-looking route but the elevation profile is a bit lacking.

At least the weather is cooling down. The wind remains a wild card.

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* feel free to suggest your favorite mapping tool in the comments!