Getting There...

After the Beartooth Pass ride, Kel and I were on vacation out in Montana and Wyoming (spending some time near Roscoe, MT and then Yellowstone and Grand Teton National Park).  We had a great time, hiked a bit, went on a bike ride, saw superlative scenery, and even some fun wildlife.  Then we joined up with my parents, and the girls split, while my dad and I headed north to Jasper.

Our first day in Yellowstone NP, Kel and I saw this momma black bear and her cub.  The cub was very playful - awesome to watch.  I've never seen anything like it in person.  It was jumping through fields of wildflowers, climbing trees, play-fighting with its mom.  Really cool stuff.  

Yes, we stayed a safe distance away.

the high dive

drool

kids are annoying, amiright?

just a little grooming... 20 feet up in the tree...

something over there is interesting...

momma

running free

I had a great time showing Kelly Grand Teton National Park... 

Inspiration Point

famous "Mormon Row" barns...

probably the greatest outhouse location ever...

one of my favorite photography locations near Schwabacher's Landing

nice, but stormy hike...

just so we don't confuse my wife with national forest access... here's a sign.

Kelly was excited to find Kelly, WY

nice bike ride with the Mrs...

I think she got tired of me trying to take her picture while riding

great sunset.

This leg of the trip ended in Jackson, Wyoming.  From here mom and Kel went south(east) to Denver, while Dad and I drove north to Jasper.

at the "million dollar cowboy bar" you sit in saddles at the bar

last day in Jackson

The drive north was largely uneventful.  

At one point, we almost ran out of gas, and stopped at a last chance sort of hole-in-the-wall place.  One of those Montana bar-casino-gas stations (<--not a typo).  I walked in (wearing the "Young Life in the Former Soviet Union" shirt I'm wearing in the above picture), and everyone at the bar turned to look at me.  One of those "not from around here, huh?" moments.  Nope.  The guy working the bar was nice enough to let us know that gas was $5/gallon and if we were able to drive another 7 miles down the highway, there was another exit with a real gas station (he only had one pump that looked like it was installed by Rockefeller).  Oh, also, there were a LOT of signs on the outside of the building advertising this:

apparently everyone loves it... um, except the bulls.

Coming up from Jackson Hole, it was a long haul drive.  It took us two days, spending a night near Kalispell (I'm going to have to bike back DOWN this route!).  The next day... it was on to Canada:

Ooohhhhhh Canada!

We drove the route I intended to bike, so I'd have a feel for what I'm attempting to accomplish.  A subsequent route change would render this effort moot, but it was a beautiful drive up through Kootenay National Park into Banff National Park and finally Jasper.  

The scenery is simply remarkable.  Perhaps the best I've ever seen.  We also got to see some wildlife... first elk...

hungry

yum

two elk... this one catches a whiff...

There was plenty of great scenery, but I had to see Peyto Lake in person.  Just a short hike from the top of Bow Pass, its (almost unreal) blue color is the product of so much glacial silt (crushed rock from the nearby glaciers) in all the water around here.

And then we saw a Grizzly... the first one I've seen this close, and I don't think I want to see one much closer.  But he was just hanging out, eating, and taking a quick cooldown bath... didn't pay us much mind.  I stayed my distance, used a long telephoto lens, and was behind large cars at the time.  (it's worth mentioning that not every one was as prudent... some people are really careless/ignorant/stupid).  I hope not *not* see a bear on my bike.  

the setting is simply idyllic

After all the excitement, we found a campground that I was hoping to be able to bike to from Jasper the next day, and caught the sunset while eating freeze-dried dinner on the side of the road.  

the Saskatchewan River is so full of glacial silt, it almost looks like chocolate milk

And tomorrow... the adventure really begins...

Day 0: A Prologue - Beartooth Pass

I remember the first time I drove up (and over) Beartooth Pass, as my dad and I were on our way into the Northeast entrance of Yellowstone National Park, through Lamar Valley.  The highway is gorgeous... full of switchbacks... and seriously high.  In fact, at 10,947 feet, it boasts the highest elevation of any "highway" in the Northern Rockies.

Coming from a month of training in Minnesota (and living in Chicago), I thought this would be a good early test... a sort of "can I hack it?" trial by fire.  The road is about 30 miles to the top, full of switchbacks, beauty, and challenge.  A perfect start to the trip.

So Kelly dropped me off in Red Lodge (with plans to meet up later), and off I went.  The beginning of the ride is pretty flat, almost pleasant... then the climbing starts (before the switchbacks start).  The grade starts to ratchet up to a respectable 4-7% in most places early on (actually not quite as steep as my "training" hill in MN, but that was only 150 feet of climb... and this will be pushing 6,000 feet of climb).  After some (not much) climbing, I decided on a short break, and already wasn't feeling great.  

I pulled over in a national forest campground, sat down on the curb, put my head in my hands, and waited to throw up (feeling inevitable).  It never came, but I was feeling pretty miserable.  Doubt crept in...

"What was I thinking?  I'm not going to be able to do this... I'm not going to be able to do any of this... the next 2 weeks are gonna suck."

No, I can do this.  I took some water, had a clif bar, and continued on.  I think I was feeling some of the altitude, but it didn't really get worse than that, which was nice.

Then the switchbacks started.

switchbacks

switchbacks

I had been dreading this part... but really, it wasn't that bad.  The grade stayed manageable, I took breaks at turnouts, and it was gorgeous.  The toughest part was the wind.  It was strong out of the South/Southwest.  You can see from the map (above) that this made for some rather bi-polar switchbacks.  One direction felt really really tough... one direction almost felt downhill.  I'm so wide, that I'm basically a human sail.  Tailwind is beautiful.  Headwind is deathly.

I met Kelly a little past halfway up (at a rest area) for "lunch" - trail mix, beef jerky, and water refill (I was already out).  By the way, Kelly was awesome... I don't think I could have done this ride without her.  So supportive.  What a champ.

lunch break

After lunch, I was off again.  Time to conquer this thing.  The wind had picked up considerably.  It was 15-25mph with gusts up to 40mph down in Red Lodge.  At the top of a mountain... it was worse than that.  A lot LOT worse.  I didn't bring a device to measure the wind (weird, I know, I usually have one on me at all times), but I'd have to guess it was in that 30-50 range, with gusts even heavier.  All I know for certain is that it was difficult to stand up near the top.  Seriously.

Did I mention that I was riding DIRECTLY into this wind?  It would be impossible for me to overemphasize the difficulty this added.  I think Beartooth was pretty manageable... but with the wind, it wasn't.  

Reactions varied at different times.  More than once, I yelled at the wind.  Sometimes just an unintelligible scream of fury (near the top of the first peak when the grade went over 10% and the wind was blowing so hard I was *literally* barely moving forward), other times something more specific: "I hate you!" or something to that extent.  There may have even been some name-calling.  I was stopping every mile or so.  It was a struggle.

Once I sat down in a drainage ditch on the side of the road and tried to just get as low as possible, so I didn't have to feel the wind - if only for a while.  I came to realize that I was literally laying down in a gutter.  I hate wind.

Despite this difficulty the ride WAS beautiful...

 

there were lots of dramatic valleys and alpine lakes.  pretty.

wildflowers weren't as abundant as I had hoped, but there were still some nice spots...

on this ride, you cross from montana to wyoming

still a good amount of snow near the top...

I made it! (frustratingly, there is no sign up there... but I promise, this is the top)

cliche "bike-lift" photo - this was dangerous. wind almost blew me over.

Kelly met me at the top.  Supportive as always (and maybe just a smidge weary of driving around with no real point other than to make sure I'm still alive and biking horrendously slow).  Also, it was windy at the top.

The ride down was... interesting.  Certainly there were moments of total glorious downhill brilliance.  But (if you'll note the map), I was still traveling into the wind, above treeline.  It was windy.  (I may have already mentioned this).  Against the wind, it just wasn't as fast or as fun.  But the downhill side also has switchbacks... and those were tough.  Especially with the inclusion of traffic. 

If you can imagine wind blowing sideways at a solid 40mph and leaning into it... so you're leaning at, I don't know, 10-15 degrees... the wind is holding you up.  Slightly unnerving, but mostly fine.  The problem is getting passed by a truck, and for less than a second, the wind that was holding you up stops (the truck is blocking it as it passes).  You might swerve a bit, or just try to re-adjust your lean - back to straight up and down - but the problem is once that truck has passed - SLAM the wind hits you again, almost knocking you over, and certainly making you swerve.  Also, you're on a curvy mountain road with no shoulders. 

In short... the ride down was stressful at times.  

snow removal equipment

"top of the world" store. note the flags. guess which way I'm biking... yup.

Anyway, I made it down.  Kel picked me up near Cooke City, and we headed back to Red Lodge, attended a great cookout, went to a rodeo the next day (the 4th - yeehaw! America!) and just generally had a great quintessential Montana vacation (for, at least, this "leg" of vacation).

Itasca State Park... overnight shakedown ride

In preparation for The Tour (of not France), I thought that a fully-loaded "real world" (not the tv show) training ride might be a judicious (and maybe even fun!) way to spend a couple days up at Castaway.  So I decided to complete an overnight ride to a place of fond memories from my intern days of 2003: Itasca State Park. 

leaving the beloved Ketch... Itasca or bust!

Here I am, ready for the maiden voyage with the fully loaded Surly.  Back panniers are carrying extra clothes (for around camp and sleeping), tent, sleeping pad, and sleeping bag.  The front panniers are each carrying 2 liters of water (in platypus bladders), other various bags are carrying spare tires, tools, phone, food, and probably other stuff.  The setup is pretty comprehensive... and pretty heavy.

The goal is to ride all this stuff up to the Park, camp that night, and ride back the next day.  The Park is about 75 miles away.  

The ride there was pretty uneventful.  Hot (I drank all the water - about 6 liters).  I only took one wrong turn, adding a couple unnecessary miles.  The only concern I had was traffic (moderate) and timing (I left much too late).  

The highlight was a deserted Minnesota country road just south of the Park.  Nicely paved, rolling hills, beautiful lakes... it was glorious.  I saw 14 deer (better to be riding a bike than driving), a bald eagle swoop about 15 feet over my head - awesome, and no cars.  Very very nice.

I've always been fascinated by these big irrigation machines... probably ever since my grandpa used to tell me stories about their fictitious inventor: Pudgy Pugh (sp?)

Made it!  Better late than never!

Set up camp in the dark... this shot is from the next morning.

I arrived safe & sound, quickly set up camp (first time using the new tent), and fell asleep very quickly.  It rained all night and I stayed dry (despite my rainfly not being as taut as it perhaps could be).  Way to go MSR.

I packed some food, but most in the form of granola bars.  While they are technically sustenance, my body REALLY wanted some protein.  To say that eating a Nature Valley bar and some fruit snacks after a 75 mile bike ride is slightly dissatisfying is an understatement of epic proportions.  I went to sleep dreaming of breakfast burritos.  Really.  (farm boys breakfast burritos from RAGBRAI).

I woke up to rain... checked the weather... more rain on the way.  I waited for it to dissipate slightly, and begrudgingly packed up and rolled out.  The one stop I wanted to make at Lake Itasca was the Mississippi Headwaters.  You might not have known this... the Mississippi is mighty, but it starts in Minnesota at a place you can walk across with five steps down.  (will that be the only Indigo Girls reference of this post?! ... um, yeah, probably.)  That place is Itasca State Park.  (fun fact: Itasca is Minnesota's oldest state park: established in 1891).

my bike crossing the mighty Mississippi (weather holding for now)

As I began my ride home, my mind was distinctly focused on two very specific things: 1) the worsening weather, and 2) breakfast... not granola bars... REAL breakfast.  I rode a few miles through the park, which is absolutely beautiful by the way - really truly terrific.  The sky was darkening rapidly, and I was hearing distant rolling thunder.  Near the entrance, I noticed the Lodge had a restaurant.  I pulled in and had just sat down (with more than one odd look at the unshowered guy in spandex sitting in the corner) when it began to pour.  Perfect timing.

I ordered something that seemed like a lot, "the Lumberjack's Special" or "Triple Bypass Breakfast" or something to that extent.  It was one of the greatest breakfasts I've ever had.  And it was like 7 bucks.  I love Northern Minnesota.

biscuits & gravy, hashbrowns, scrambled eggs, 4 pieces of toast, orange juice, and an entire carafe of coffee.

Seriously though, outstanding.

I tried to wait through the rain for a bit, but it was only projected to get worse.  Better get on with it I guess.

Bad news: I forgot a jacket (rain or otherwise).  I am not smart.  
Good news: The visitor's center was giving away free trash bags!

the weather was unpleasant.  i am nonplussed. and wearing a trash bag vest.

As well equipped as I'd ever be... off I went.  Like a slightly more pious, but no less manic Lieutenant Dan into the storm.

great day for a ride!

I don't mind riding in some rain... but lightning kinda freaks me out.  In a crazy idea to keep roads dry, they're often higher than the surrounding area.  Also, I have a steel bicycle between my legs.  There was some rain, then a lot of rain.  Then a LOT of lightning.  Bolts hitting the ground... on both sides of the road.  I immediately bailed and rushed to the nearest shelter, an abandoned barn with a very clear "No Trespassing" sign.

sorry about disobeying your sign, but I'm more scared of lightning than you.

I may have sent Kelly a text to the effect of "I'm hiding in this barn, if I don't get back, start the manhunt here and move out in concentric circles.  Killer is likely in adjacent house." with a dropped pin of my location.  Ahhh... technology.

It wasn't long before the storm moved on... as did I.  In fact, I rode through some very pleasant sunshine for the next hour or so, until the next wave of the storm surfaced... I was biking right into it...

really?

I read this just as I was about to continue, and decided not to "go for it".  But this time, I had other shelter to choose from.  Well, not really "choose"... but I found this campground of sorts, and asked if I could just hang out in the office and wait it out.  The conversation went like this:

*sky is black in one direction*
me: "Hey, I think a storm is moving in, I was wondering if it would be okay if I could hide out indoors for just a bit to wait it out."
lady: "a storm, huh?  hmm... haven't heard anything about that..."
*lightning cracks in distance*
me: "yeah, I guess it might be a pretty big one"
*rain starts*
lady: "yeah, I guess a little something might be starting up.  sure, you can come on in to the office, if ya want."

Less than five minutes later, I literally cannot see 20 feet out the window.  Sheets of rain.  Sheets.

What I can see, however, is the inside of the campground office.  It is... errrr... interesting.

the Shell Lake Resort & Campground Office...

The nice lady (I forget her name... something short... Fran?  Midge?) was great.  We watched Who Wants to be a Millionare? (yes, apparently that's still a show).  After a while (far too long), I left with the rain still heavy, but most of the lightning gone.

more accommodating than my last stop...

I got about 8 miles down the road before lightning started back up in earnest.  I hid under the overhang of a bar welcoming "fishermen"... not sure how they felt about cyclist in spandex.

Fortunately, I was able to find out, because about everyone in the bar came out for a smoke while I was waiting out the lightning.  Responses ranged from (chuckle) "nice day for a ride". to (in a slight drunken stupor) "WHAT THE?! WHATDYA RIDE YER BIKE HERE!? FROM ITASCA, YOU SAY!? WHY THE?! HOWYDA!? WHATERYA GONNA *indiscernible mumble-yell* BIKE?!..."  I liked that guy.

Everyone was very nice, as is typical in Northern Minnesota.  A few even offered to give me a ride into Detroit Lakes, but I thought I could still make it on my own... but at this point I was racing the daylight more than anything.

After about 45 minutes of waiting by the bar, I had to get home.  The lightning had mostly passed.  The race was on.  About 30 miles back to Castaway.  

I made it, but it was pretty dark by the time I got back.  I hung up my went camping gear, and went straight to club to see Kelly be hilarious.  Great day.

Not ideal weather... but in a way, that's good preparation, too.  It forces resourcefulness.  I was proud to (safely) finish.

Here is the ride out:
 

And here is the ride home:

Allow Me To Re-Introduce Myself [or at least... this blog]

Part of what I think/hope this world-wide-webular-based-log will become is not so much a strict "this is what I did to work out today, this is what I ate, and this is how fat I still am" list (what a legacy!)... but rather that it will morph into more of a general compilation of stories surveying manifold (mis)adventures with varying degrees of relevancy to the blog's stated purpose.  Now (with that run-on sentence out of the way) to that end, I invite you to turn the proverbial corner with me... the next several posts will tell the tale of the "Great Bicycle Adventure of 2012"... or "Tour de Northern Parks 2012"... or "Take That Canada!"... or "Why Did You Do That For Two Weeks?"... we're still working on the name.  I might just call it "The Tour" from here on out.  I'm open to suggestions.

Some of you may be unfamiliar with my "big summer plans", others of you might be well aware and are already saying "I know what you did last this summer".  (will that be the only Jennifer Love Hewitt movie reference of this post?!  ... stay tuned to find out!)  

The short version is pretty simple.  I will attempt to ride my bicycle from Jasper National Park down the Columbia Icefields Parkway to Banff, into Waterton-Glacier National Park(s), and down through Yellowstone and into Jackson, Wyoming.  This trip has taken on several different variations (at one point being a cross country trip), and with varying degrees of help from others (from someone carrying all my stuff almost all the time - to me loading absolutely everything up on my bike).

Being from Chicago, and already hating rolling my bike up hills (an endeavor it seems decidedly disinclined to accommodate), I decided some "training" might be prudent.  With the whirlwind close to the school year, most of this training had to wait until June.  But since I waited (and had been plumping up like a spring chicken... am I using that simile correctly?), when I started - I began in earnest.  In short, I logged some serious miles in June.  About 700 in 3 weeks (arrived at Castaway on June 9th and rode 710 miles before July 1st... roughly 45 hours in the saddle), including an unsupported century ride (100 miles), and a few hill work outs. One called "hills hills hills" (will that be the only veiled Destiny's Child reference in this post?! ... stay tuned to find out!) in which I just climb the biggest/steepest hill that I could find near Castaway over and over (and over) again.  In fairness, it's actually pretty steep... but not very high.  Like 150 feet.  (Later this summer, I would attempt a ride with about 6,800 feet of climb... so... yeah... I wasn't able to really train for that).

The one ride that was really supposed to prepare me for The Tour, though, was a fully self-supported trip to Itasca State Park.  But, in the interest of brevity, that tale will have to wait for another time.  I bet you can't hardly wait.

doin' work in June. no days off (once I got to Castaway)

13 Miles (A Story of Failure)

note: this is retro-posted to the day after the Half Marathon... I will start live posting soon.  Just had to catch up...

Well... it's certainly been a while.  And since I last left you with a story of (albeit piddling) success, it seems only fitting that I balance my ego with a tale of categorical failure...

As a brief background (since it's been almost a year), let me summarize the purpose (and to some degree, outcome) of this blog: I was fat. I got tired of it. I started a blog to embarrass myself toward progress. Also, I started running.  Slowly.  Also also, I eat pretty much everything I see.  Overall, during the spring/summer of 2011, I got slightly less fat.

Obviously, if you'd like to familiarize yourself more, you can just read through previous posts.  But that’s the basic idea.

So, we now find ourselves in spring/summer of 2012... I’m still fighting the fat, so to speak, but the end-of-school rush was less than helpful in that regard.  Possessing a proficiency in foresight that borders on the clairvoyant, I saw that hurdle coming.  So, why not try to systematically offset this potential blunder?  Weighing my options (see what I did there?), I decided to run a half marathon, in hopes that the “training” would at least keep me in line. 

In the interest of brevity, I’ll spare you most of the “training” details, but my goal for the half marathon was to run it in less than two hours.  That’s an almost respectable sub-9-minute mile pace for 13 miles.  (my only other running goal of a sub 50 minute 10k... sub 8-minute pace... was NOT achieved at the YL Naperville 10k a few weeks prior... so I am apprehensive about making goals).

Anyway, in “training”, it seemed this goal was attainable.  For proof, check out this 10 mile run I where I plodded along at an 8:44 pace... that’s a solid :15/mile breathing room... and only 3 more miles to run.  No problem, right?

run 3 more miles at this pace? piece of cake...

Wrong.

The half marathon dominated me.  Absolutely dominated me.  I don’t know why... if I psyched myself out... if it was too hot (it was so freakin hot)... if there was no shade on the whole course… if there was a stiff headwind for the second half... if it was because my diet the preceding week had been horrendous... or if I physically just didn’t “have it”... I guess I’ll never know.  And that’s a bit maddening, in a way.

At any rate, I started off pretty well, and ran the first six miles at a solid (goal) pace - not too fast, not too slow.  But somewhere around mile 7 or 8, I slowed down to take a drink at a water station... and you don't really understand... walking felt SO GOOD.  After that, I could barely run half a mile without walking some.  And even the "running" was incredibly slow.  I "bonked".  And I bonked hard.  I started to string together unthinkably slow miles.  I knew it... and I couldn't do anything about it.

I started seeing pacing groups pass me, thinking about how I had been staying ahead of the 8:55 pace group for the first half of the race.  It was crushingly demoralizing.  Ugh.  And just to make SURE that my demoralization is complete, I will now post my splits for everyone to see:

holy crap.

Yup. It just got real in here.  

Check out my sprint finish... "you can see the finish line!  GO ALL OUT!!!" ... 9:38 pace. 

Sweet.

Here is another embarrassing way to look at my pacing.  Some solid stretches of walking here:

and that, boys and girls, is how to fail a half marathon

I've failed so far to mention that I ran this half marathon with my beautiful wife who also is much wiser than me.  She ran a nice easy pace and finished fine.  So, after the finish line when I was in some netherworld between pain and death, full of regret and shame... she bounced up to me writhing on the ground, and chipper as can be asked "hey! how ya doin'? ready to go?"  I probably just mumbled something or other about not feeling my legs.  I think this picture probably sums up our sentiments (courtesy my instagram):

yes, that's a bag of ice on my head.

And that's about how it went.  Not pleasant.  And no where close to hitting my goal.  Shucks.

Also, it's tough to garner any sympathy when a) it was my choice, and b) it was a HALF marathon.  The next day I was bemoaning my shortcomings at school, and a student quipped "maybe you'll do better when you finish the second half." touché.

I do, however, find solace in a the following points:

• About a year ago, I could literally not run for 2 continuous miles.  To train up to be able to run 13 (or at least, 10)... counts for something.  (and even if this sounds to you like the remedial equivalent of "I used to not be able to add, but now I can do long division!" sure, but hey, progress is progress).
• While I was far off my hopeful mark, my time of 2:09 still beat my cousin Katie, who ran the Nashville half marathon in 2:12.  And she's in good shape, and comes from a family of runners.  Katie, if you read this... in your face.
• For anyone who ran faster than me... if you did so weighing less than 210 pounds, I don't care.  If you ran fast and weigh like 165 pounds, unless you carried a 50 pound backpack for those 13 miles, I'm not impressed.  It's tough to run far when you're fat.  I'm carrying a lot of extra weight here. 

Overall, an interesting experience.  I'm not saying I'll never run another half marathon.  But I probably won't.  And if I ever do, I think I'm done running "for time".  First of all, it's not that fast anyway.  Secondly, this is the second time in a row I haven't hit that goal, and it's deflating.  I think I'll just run to run (or to fight the fat).

---

Food grade & weight will have to wait... I'll fill you in more later as updates come more often.  Spoiler alert: neither are good.