Cycling Camp San Diego -- Continued

After 60 miles of hard riding the day before (including some lung-busting intervals) I was pretty sore. So that evening I took advantage of yet another of CCSD's fine services -- cycling-specific massage by cyclist and certified massage therapist Susan Tudor. Susan operates a business called Cyclist's Massage and she supplies very generously discounted services for CCSD participants. If you attend a CCSD camp you must take advantage of Susan's services. I can honestly say there would have been no way for me to have ridden as hard as I did, day after day, without her help. After each of our two interval days (Tuesday and Thursday) I used what turned out to be a very effective recovery strategy: I got a quick blast of carbs and protein (20 g of protein within 20 minutes), put my feet up and iced my legs for 30 minutes, and had a brief massage. After this regimen my legs were certainly still tired, but the soreness was mostly gone.

Day Three: 75 miles, 7,000 feet climbing
On this day I met another very cool ride leader: Gary, a level II cycling coach and owner of the Adventure Travel Group, a bike touring company based in San Diego that offers guided and supported bicycle tours for serious cyclists throughout Europe, South America and Canada (did I tell you that Rob seems to know everyone?). On this day we did "lactate threshold" intervals, keeping our heart rates at 80-82% of their maximum, which trains the body to more efficiently process, or "flush", lactic acid. So, although there wasn't much time in the "red zone" it was a long day in the saddle at a good tempo with a lot of climbing.

Fortunately I love to climb and I found myself off the front of the group following our first big ascent. Gary was dispatched to chase me down and we had a great time (or at least I did!) discussing the best places in the world to bike. Clearly he has much more experience in this department but I told him about my own private Tour de Austurias (north-central Spain) with my brother and his brother-in-law Joaquin as well as my once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to ride in the world's biggest bike race in Cape Town, South Africa. He told me about riding in the Alps, Pyrenees, Dolomites and beyond. As on day two, we were joined after our last SAG stop by other strong riders ready to crank up the pace and race home to Alpine. Gary and I took some nice long pulls as did Greg and Eric. A couple of others hung on for the ride. I recall smokin' it back along Japatul Road into Alpine to close out another great day in the saddle. That evening we discussed the benefits of "isolated leg training" (or one-legged spinning) for building strength and aiding in neuromuscular development (i.e., training your muscles how to more efficiently and properly "fire" during the pedal stroke).

Day Four: 65 miles, 6,000 feet climbing
Day four saw the return of hard VO2 max intervals, with Bill Holland back to make me suffer. This time I was committed to stick with him to the top of the climb on the last interval, and I came damn close. Near the top he had gapped me by about three bikes lengths so I eased up slightly. Surprisingly I got a second wind after only about 10 seconds at tempo pace and stood on it to catch him near the top. Fortunately, I guess, I had forgotten my chest strap for my heart rate monitor and had to simply use Bill as a guide. Once again we had some time to recover and ride to the SAG stop. I have to say, fig newtons (or Fig Newmans as they were) never tasted so good.

The highlight of the day, if not the entire trip, came later in the day on our ride down to Honey Springs -- a screaming descent down into a beautiful valley on Honey Springs Road. At the bottom Rob convened the group to discuss our ride back up. It was at that point that I realized that hammering as hard as I could down the mountain with Bill on my wheel was a little short-sighted. It was a blast though. I don't think I've ridden so hard on a descent before or since, or as tight. I remember feeling totally comfortable with Bill just inches away from my wheel, and Greg on his, even as we passed 45 m.p.h. I've ridden faster before but never in such a close formation. It was exhilirating. On the way up, Bill set the pace. It seemed moderate at first, but the climb was eternal. About 5 minutes in Bill told me "I set my stopwatch . . . let's see what we can do." I can't recall how long it took us but I remember him pulling away from me about 2/3 of the way to the top. I had him in sight most of the time and once again had a second wind once I saw the crest. Bill claims (quite generously) that he was waiting for less than a minute at the top and said we'd both finished in a very respectable time. It was some solace knowing he'd had a rest day the day before, but it's humbling to realize a guy 10-15 years older is a stronger rider than you. Fortunately I'm able to do the same thing to most of the younger riders I ride with. Hopefully this will still be the case in 10 years.

Day Five: 75 miles, 6,000 feet climbing
The fifth and final day of the camp was just as hard (and just as memorable) as the days with intervals. That's because Rob, directeur sportif, cracked the whip on Viejas, an unpaved horse-riding and hiking trail that climbs about 3,000 ft. (by my estimate). The group rode together to the base of the climb where Rob gave us some advice about the terrain. It was dirt and loose gravel, making it particularly challenging because your back wheel would slip on steep sections if you weren't careful about your weight distribution. Just as he was leaving he said he'd see most of us at the top, but for those taking it slowly we'd descend down into the valley on the other side where the van would be parked for re-fueling. Then he was gone.

I had to work pretty hard just to catch him near the beginning of the climb. The weather was cooler this day than on the previous four. We'd had perfect conditions -- dry and in the 70s-80s. Friday morning was about 50 degrees, windy and overcast. I remember starting the climb wearing a headband and wind vest. By the mid point I was already overheating but I wanted to stick to Rob's wheel so I suffered through it. There was no way to ride no-handed to remove my vest or temporarily take off my helmet to get at my headband because the surface was too inconsistent. About 3/4 of the way up I finally hit the wall. I was on the verge of bonking. I stayed with Rob to the top but was starting to feel queasy and disoriented, a sensation that wasn't helped by being soaking wet with sweat and condensation (we had climbed into some low-hanging clouds and fog). We waited at the top for quite a while before a few others made it and I was shivering hard and lightheaded. Rob had told us to "eat, eat, and then eat some more" and I'd tried. After five consecutive days of riding to the brink of cracking I was finally starting to wither.

After another 15 minutes and a few more riders we descended into the valley on the other side. I recall feeling funny on the descent but not knowing why. When we reached the van I took my helmet off and started looking for something, anything, to eat. 10 minutes later, as we began to get ready to roll again, I looked around for my glasses and couldn't find them. Rob and Jeff (our SAG driver) helped pull nearly everything out of the vehicle looking for them, but to no avail. I told them there was a chance I'd left them at the top of Viejas as I recalled wiping them off while waiting, but I was almost certain I had put them back on. After all, I don't see well at all without them and couldn't believe I would have descended at high speed and not noticed. Finally, Jeff said "get in the van, we're riding back to the top." Sure enough, when we reached the summit, there they were, sitting on a large rock where I'd rested. I'd been so disoriented I hadn't even noticed that I couldn't focus. Kind of a scary thought when you consider how fast we took the descent.

The van ride with Jeff ended up being another unexpected trip highlight. Rob had told us on day one that "there's no shame in getting into the van" but I hadn't expected to need to do so. It turns out I did, but not because I couldn't ride any more. In any event, it was nice to dry out and warm up a bit, not to mention eat a little more while listening to good music and chatting with Jeff. Then he put me back on the road to catch up with the group. Once back on, we rode together into the quaint little town of Julian, famous for its delicious pies. It certainly didn't disappoint. We had an excellent and well-deserved lunch before heading out on our final ride of the camp, back into Alpine. Rob, Greg and I rode hard together, with Rob doing nearly all the work as we battled headwinds and crosswinds. Even though I had recovered from my near-bonking experience I was happy to take a break. It was hard enough staying on Rob's wheel. He's a very strong rider.

Back in Alpine the group began to disperse. We said our "goodbyes" as riders came in, with everyone on a different schedule for returning home. I packed up my bike in my travel case and Rob graciously shuttled me to the airport. Although camp was over I had one more day or riding ahead of me. I'd be taking a short flight from San Diego to San Jose to see my brother. After a few hours of rest, Jeremy and his crew would take me up Old Lohanda Road (a famous training climb) and Tunitis Creek (an ascent featured in the Tour of California). There would be a sixth and final day of "spring training" for me before I was able to rest and recover. I wasn't convinced my legs would hold out.