I’ve been commuting in Portland for several months now. Yes, I take the train on occasion, but at least half of my commute is via bike. And I really like it. It’s refreshing to get my heart rate up and blow off the stress of the day. In a few months I’ll move and my commute-via-bike won’t be as feasible. But I’m brainstorming ways I can still make it work. We’ll see.

In the mean time, I found this infographic showing the benefits of a two-wheeled solution to better health.

Created by: Healthcare Management Degree

But before I get into the book, let me just say that I’m a closet Tour Divide hopeful. It’s been an obsession from the first time I heard about the race several years ago. Every ride—long or short—ignites some small fantasy that I’m cresting a pass in Montana or rocketing down into a New Mexican valley. I’ve listened to virtually every MTBCast for the last five years and have watched the movement of many a blue dot. Clearly, I need professional help.

But when Jill announced she was writing a book on her experience riding the Divide, I knew I wanted to read it. Maybe to live vicariously, maybe to fuel the obsession.

Be Brave, Be Strong starts with Jill’s Iditarod trail invitational race and her recounting, with striking and beautiful detail, her experience there and what lead her scratch. That race sets the stage for the rest of the book and reminds the reader that ultra endurance bike races aren’t for the faint of heart; they’re for the fit, the prepared, and the lucky. And maybe the crazy.

The book also recounts other lead-ins to her decision to race the Divide: her work-a-day life and her relationship (and ultimate break-up) with her long-time boyfriend Geoff. Some have said that this part of the book was wholly unnecessary, but I disagree. While some of the story made me squirm for Geoff and Misty (I’m glad I never dated any authors…awkward), this glimpse into Jill’s mind helped later to understand where some of the fire and drive to finish came from. (Dang right she’s not dropping at Kremmling!)

I did have mixed feelings about how much detail needed to be shared about the other relationship showcased in the book—that of Jill and John Nobile. The pair toured together for a good portion of the route and it was an important part of the overall story. But, again, there were many a part that made me thank my stars I never dated an author; I couldn’t help but feel for the guy.

The rest of the book give the reader all fodder he or she needs to breathe life to that stunningly crazy notion to ride the route themselves. Jill describes—almost poetically—the beauty, the exhilaration, the loneliness, the slog, and the fear she experienced while on route. I especially enjoyed the telling of how she managed to cross the Great Divide Basin despite a crippling mechanical and almost cheered as she later rolled into Pie Town New Mexico and enjoyed a meal at the almost never open Pie-O-Neer Cafe.

The ups were equally balanced with the downs, however. The endless slogging through mud, the accident involving Pete Basinger, and the hippy convention in the woods served as a reminder that the Divide can be brutal, unforgiving, and just plain weird.

All-in-all it was a great read for anyone interested in the race, the route, or bikepacking in general. Nice work, Jill.

Casey Neistat contests a ticked from NYPD for not riding in the bike lane. Bravo!

Between wolfing down road trip snacks on two back-to-back trips from Utah to Oregon, I’ve packed on a few pounds and am determined to get rid of it. In addition to the old calorie counting plan, I’ve decided to get serious about burning some calories.

But I’ve been sick for the last couple of days—waking up with fevered and sweating two nights ago and hacking up all kinds of friends with a deep cough; I was hesitant to ride today. But last night I slept pretty well and decided that, given I’d publicized my goal, I’d better make good on it—sick or not.

The plan

Breaking it down by day, I have to put in 500 calories every day between now and Saturday with a 2000 day on Thursday, which are turning into my long-ride days.

Today I mapped out a hour-ish road ride consisting of a 16 mile lollipop. I figure I burn about 600 calories an hour when I ride and if I shoot for that then I’ll be okay if my 2000 calorie Thursday plans fall a little short.

Watershed moment

It’d had been raining on and off all morning and Caren had come in soaked after her run earlier. But it wasn’t raining at the moment, so off I went. The ride was pretty uneventful as I tuned out the hill grinds with an audio book I’m listening to.

Around mile 10 a few rain drops splattered my glasses.

Mile 11 it decided to drizzle. “No matter,” I thought, “I’m almost home.”

Mile 12 the heavens opened up and it rained hard. Because the temperature was ~60° I started getting quite chilled. But I thanked my stars that I was at least doing an uphill section where I could keep my inner furnace stoked and stave off the cold.

The last two miles of downhill were absolutely brutal. The rain, if it was possible, got worse. It stung my arms through my sodden jacket and came through the vents of my helmet with such ferocity that it washed the sweat from my scalp and stung my eyes. Within seconds the rain turned to hail and pinged my cold skin into numb submission. Blinded with sweat and rain-spattered glasses, I raced down the mountain at 30 mph in an wild attempt to simply get home.

Arriving home, Caren greeted me with a towel and a warm sandwich.

As I rode down the mountain I had two thoughts: 1) I need some wool clothing and 2) this is an epic storm—to make it a worth-while story I really should be spending the night on the mountain. Alas.

Stats:

The rules are simple: Start pedaling at the Canadian border, and the first fat tire to hit Mexico wins. JON BILLMAN saddles up for the Great Divide Race, 2,500 miles of blowouts, goatheads, UFOs, and misery—for the lucky ones who finish, that is.

High Noon is when a proper western should start, but we’re still waiting for Floyd Landis, Lance Armstrong, and George W. Bush. The 2007 Great Divide Race kicks off in 18 minutes here on June 15 at the First and Last Chance Bar, in Roosville, Montana, and the border crossing is buzzing with the carnival vibe of a gumball rally: 24 mountain bikers in clean, bright kits, tinkering with gear straps and barrel adjusters as they wait to begin the 2,490-mile self-supported race from the Canadian border to Antelope Wells, New Mexico, on the Mexican line.

Everyone’s nerves are showing. MYSTERY RACER is listed on the Website roster, and various forums are speculating wildly about which celebrity will show. Mike Curiak, 39, is the GDR’s official race director and the course record holder—16 days, 57 minutes, in 2004. Curiak’s rivals, now the 2007 favorites, are trading greetings: Anchorage bike wrench Pete Basinger, 27, who holds the Iditasport record, and North Carolina maître d’ Matthew Lee, 37, the winner of the last two GDRs—best time, 17 days, 22 hours, 30 minutes, in 2006. The wild card, balding and goateed Jackson Hole drywall contractor and Iditasport runner-up Jay Petervary, 34, is fiddling with his XM satellite receiver, which is wired to a mini solar recharger and preset to perpetual reggae and NPR: “I’m gonna get the weather.”

The rest of the field consists of two dozen underemployed dreamers who may have gotten ourselves in over our heads. I haven’t felt anything like this since the day I got married; I haven’t eaten since last night, but Matt McFee, a thirty-something computer geek and mountain-bike guide from Durango, is putting down his second or third hot dog as if he might not see another before the Fourth of July. Rick Hunter, a lanky California frame builder, tries to relax, surfer cool, on a picnic table next to his custom rigid ride, a cyclocross/cross-country hybrid with a couple of extra bottle cages for when this stunt hits the desert. Three middle-aged British endurance riders are keenly filling their camera’s memory card. And long-haired San Diego bike messenger Noah Dimit, 23, has waved goodbye to his grandparents and is heating soup on his backpacker’s stove: Jesus on a Stumpjumper.

It’s no small feat to get your rig to this border—like marriage, the GDR is a tough race to start and a tougher one to quit. Ask Nathan Bay. Bay is a 37-year-old baker, elk hunter, and recovering alcoholic from Bozeman sporting Ted Nugent camo on a green GT single-speed. Bay will tell you that mountain biking helped save his life—but be careful, because fat-tire rehab is a slippery slope, and you could find yourself in Roosville pointed south.

Read the rest of the story at OutsideOnline.

What the…? Here’s a hint: buy a GPS.
Google Maps, by the way, should never be used to plan any sort of trip that involves logging roads in Oregon. I’d planned out the route (which was pretty straight forward) using the ubiquitous tool, but found that when I was actually in the hills, all preparation turned useless. You’d think that I would have learned my lesson by now.

Take the second left at mile 6.4 and 2900 feet.
The problem was that there were far more than two roads before I ever came close to the true turn off. Which meant that when I truly came to mile 6.4, I’d already gone 8.9. Fortunately the elevation profile was somewhat accurate. As I neared the road, I was checking out my homemade map and as a BLM officer stopped and I asked him for directions to the turn off. Fortunately he pointed me in the right direction and, within 500 yards, I’d made my critical turn. After that, it was mostly a downhill cruise through some beautiful old growth, a logging operation (where I had to pick through discarded “brush” that littered the road), and plenty of mud.

Photographic evidence
Sadly my camera’s battery bonked after only a few photos, but I was nonetheless pleased with the shots.

Panorama of the Riddle Oregon township

One of the many false trails

Above the clear cut line

Stats:

On Thursday, I plan to ride this route.

It’s a lollipop gravel grinder that climbs 4000 feet over 17 miles. And it’s really just a precourser to this ride which uses a lot of the same roads, but is 35-ish miles. This longer route isn’t even in the planning stages, but on the bucket list.

But as I said, today I only had an hour and figured I’d better see what there was to see. Ten thousand logging roads in this area are begging to be explored.

It was a quick gravel/road grinder with virtually no downhill until I reached my turn-around spot.

I felt a lot faster today, and no wonder. Last night I discovered that I’d tightened my bearings too tightly last time I packed them—now I can’t believe how much drag I had accepted as normal.

Cycling Cap Tutorial from Paul Overton on Vimeo.

via dudecraft

We all know the talking points. The benefits of bicycles have been tirelessly elaborated upon; bicycles improve health, ease congestion, save money, use less space, and provide efficient transportation with zero fuel consumption and zero carbon emissions. The culmination of a population on two wheels can have a drastic impact on the overall wellbeing of a city. However, none of these come close to the most meaningful aspect of cycling, a factor that cannot be quantified but has endless value to those fighting to improve their communities.

The most vital element for the future of our cities is that the bicycle is an instrument of experiential understanding.

On a bicycle, citizens experience their city with deep intimacy, often for the first time. For a regular motorist to take that two or three mile trip by bicycle instead is to decimate an enormous wall between them and their communities.

Full article at sustainablecitiescollective.com.

Pure awesome is what this is. Nice work.