February blues.

February hasn't been the best month for me on the bike. It seldom is, I don't know why. Perhaps it's the come-down from the high of the Alpine Classic, but I seem to be lacking a goal. Although I've hardly done any riding this month beyond a short daily commute to work, the 300km I've cranked out is my third best in the last six years and will be above the average. But I don't feel like I'm doing much and feel generally flat. I've been working too hard, have had a few too many beers, put on some weight and have smoked the odd cigarette since the Alpine, which hasn't helped matters one bit. The fitness I felt just a month ago has gone.

As I write this, I'm supposed to be riding a double century. Today was the last chance to keep my Year-Round randonneur hopes alive - but grand plans of completing 200km rides in 12 consecutive months - a plan which seemed easy in October - now somehow seems a madly ambitious. Instead, I'm sitting at home watching rain clouds drift in over the mountains and wondering whether I'll have enough energy to ride 30km on the dirt roads into town.

The bike is sitting outside the window, expectantly. I will ride, of course, and maybe the ride and a bit of wind and rain on my face will snap me out of my lethargy. Something always seems to. After just 200km last February, March 2009 was my best month ever - and although 881km is probably modest by some standards it's a good month by mine. But for some reason I just can't see myself riding the Oppy with the Lairs and the Bike Week Century and the Mt Wellington Challenge this year just don't appeal either. I barely made it to Critical Mass yesterday!

So I'm stale. I'm sure I'll just enjoy this ride, and can worry about the rest some other time.

1075km so far this year.

One is more identical than the other

This post from the Bicycle Lifestyle Google Group on look-alike bikes quite tickled my funny bone:

``Actually, the Pugsley is a shameless rip-off of the Rambouillet. All Surly did was change the angles a couple degrees, make the tubes thicker, build in clearance for 4-inch tires, offset the frame in one direction and the rims in the opposite direction so normal hubs could be used without the chain hitting the tire, and make the front and rear wheels interchangeable. But the dead giveaway is the 2 wheels and the place to sit: classic Grant Petersen!''

Thanks to Jim Thill for the smile.

855km so far this year.

Cutting it fine

Well, I've done the Alpine Classic 200km. Not without drama though. After more than 13 hours on the road, I made it to the finish line with just 19 minutes to spare!

It was quite a ride. I made a good start and was over Tawonga Gap and up Falls Creek (60km) in good time and good style. A short break at Falls for a snack and I was back on the road, cruising through for the climb up the other side of Tawonga. The descent back into Bright (130km) is one of the better parts of the ride, and after seven hours of elapsed time I was pretty happy with my progress. A short break in Bright to cool down and have a bite to eat and it was off to tackle Mt Buffalo.

Here's where things became slightly more challenging. It's a tough climb and it was the hottest part of the day. I slowed considerably on the way up, stopping every kilometre or so to catch my breath. At this end of the field, at this time of day, at this distance into the ride, many of my fellow riders were feeling the same pinch, as onward and upward we ground, aided by the occasional shouts of encouragement from riders returning at speed from the summit.

By the time I made the control at the top, time was getting on. I knew from my previous descent of the mountain that Bright was at least an hour and ten minutes away, although likely longer for a tired rider. I had an hour and thirty minutes to beat the cutoff.

As spectacular and as speedy as the descent is, it was largely lost on me as I counted down the minutes remaining with no sign of the bottom. My heart went out to the poor buggers still struggling up the grade, many of whom had no chance in hell of completing the ride in time. I was pretty determined to avoid that fate. Porepunkah finally drew near and it became apparent that I had about 20 minutes to cover the remaining ground to Bright. But how far was it? My best guess was ten kilometres, which was clearly going to be beyond me at that time of the day.

So I was pretty relieved when I rolled past the sign flashed past saying "Bright 6km". I was back in the game. Another rider sensed my plight and dragged me along for a bit at speed before he flagged and I took a turn thundering along the final stretch. Eventually Bright drew into view and I knew I was going to make it. The actual finish was a bit of a blur, partly because I was completely spent and partly because my eyes seemed to be a bit misty for some reason.

I've wanted to do the Alpine Classic 200km for years, and have never thought I was up to it. I'm tremendously happy to have finally done the ride, even if I did finish by the barest of margins. It was a fitting finish to a tremendous week of riding. As for next year, well the 130km distance is looking pretty good.

721km so far this year.

Tapering.

The last couple of days of the Semaine Federale are, for me anyway, a chance to take things easy ahead of the Alpine. After riding nearly 300km in the last week a couple of easy days aren't going to do any harm and will hopefully leave me a bit fresher for the big event. The final day of riding in the Semaine involved a mere 20km jaunt out to Boynton's Winery just outside of Porpunkah. The temperature was reached a top of 41 degrees in Bright, so contemplating strenuous exercise was probably not a good idea anyway.

This last excursion was a journey which was to take seven hours - possibly not the fastest 20km in Audax history, but to be fair to our group of four there were many distractions. After a leisurely breakfast on the deck of the Bright Football Club, the outward journey went well enough - we were the first to the winery, where we had a rest on the deckchairs and a natter. We rode a few kilometres up the road to the Bright Berry Farm where we devoured some lovely boysenberry ice cream and another long chat. Back to the winery, where another hour or two were spent over the odd glass of bubbly and some gentle relaxation before we managed the 2km ride to the popular Rail Trail Cafe for a delightful spot of lunch.

On the way back we dropped in on some friends staying closer to Bright and another hour was delightfully spent. By the time I made it back to ride HQ I was well and truly the last rider home most of the day had gone in a blur of ease and conversation. Just two of the seven hours that has passed had been spent in the saddle. But still, not a bad way to end a lovely week of riding.

508km so far this year.

Bike polo

A mob of Melbourne hipsters put on a bike polo demonstration for us today. I was astonished at how small the court was, and how well they played. There was a chance for audience participation, but my hand-eye coordination is the reason I ride a bike instead of playing ball sports.

My heroes ride slow.

I spotted my first pair of shaved (male) legs in Bright today, a reminder the Alpine Classic will very soon be upon us. It's also a reminder too that huge egos of the lycra brigade will soon be arriving in town. Though most audax riders are humble and interesting people, some of the folk this ride attracts seem never to have learned the lesson that being a good bike rider and being a decent or fully-formed human are two different things that don't necessarily travel together. It's an epidemic among racing cyclists, who seldom smile or wave or acknowledge the rest of us when out on the road. There will be plenty of shaved legs and bright team jerseys and attitude in town this weekend. And I'm forecasting an undersupply of humility and perspective.

Riding up a few hills on a $8000 carbon fibre bike doesn't impress me greatly. If you're thin and fit and young, it would be more surprising if you couldn't. My cycling heroes do better than that.

Try Lan Yin Tasi (top left). She's 84. Every year for the past 26 years, she's cranked out 200km to raise money for multiple sclerosis research. She does it on a single-speed bike, in a dress and high heels. That's pretty impressive.

Or how about Bram Moen's mum? She covers 6000km a year, just like me, but she's 84 and just got a flash new bike. Or Scott Cutshall, who lost about 150 kilograms and rode himself back into health.

I guess there will be a lot of rich white blokes - the mainstay of competitive cycling - in Bright this weekend who think they're pretty special. The shocking truth is, they're not.

421km so far this year.

A bastard called Buffalo

Mt Buffalo is the final major climb of the Alpine Classic 200km. I've never ridden it, although I've heard chilling tales and looked into the dead eyes of those who've tackled the beast after 130km of riding in the midsummer heat. One friend, absent from the Classic this year due to an ever-expanding list of almost-credible excuses, rates this his favourite climb. But there's nothing like finding out for yourself.

Like the other rides I'm doing this week, the 72km round trip up Buffalo and back was meant to be a confidence builder. And that's exactly how it started out on the lower slopes of the 1695 metre mountain - the day was cool and the going not too hard, just a steady pedal up the nicely-graded road as it winds upward and upward. After about an hour of this, it's hard not to start wondering how much further is to go, especially as a steady stream of early starters are coming the other way yelling greetings as they blur past. No clue from road markings or signs. No sky visible through the trees signalling a crest. Never mind, I tell myself, enjoy the views and push onwards.

After two hours, with the top nowhere in sight and the second water bottle rapidly emptying, it's hard not to become a little dispirited. I hadn't eaten, thinking two hours would nail it and was starting to get hungry. Finally the top of the climb came into view and an undulating four kilometres across the top took me to the lunch stop, my confidence not built so much as challenged.

A quick bite to eat and back on the road. Mindful of the cool temperatures, I bought myself a local tabloid newspaper, hoping that a thin tissue of lies stuffed down my jersey might hold off the chill of descending. And so it proved: I stayed tolerably warm during the thrilling descent back towards Porepunkah. Two and a half hours of upward toil was gone in less than 40 minutes of descending. I took the opportunity of enjoying the last five kilometres into Bright, imagining the thrill and relief of an Alpine finish. Here's hoping. Sunday will tell.

Rest day tomorrow. I need it.

421km so far this year.