The Marin Headlands. A 'jaunt' is born.

Last week's training ride to the Marin Headlands was a revelation. It is perhaps the most compact, beautiful route I can imagine. And a round trip from my house, with some additional weaving, is about 25 miles. Perfect for these longer-lighted days.

Marin Headlands, I hope to see you again and again.

Here are some pictures from last week's ride, and a couple from last night, when I repeated part of the route for an evening training run.

Crossing the bridge, Marin Headlands in the background:

Stopping to rest up on the hill with my training buddies:

The view from here:

The descent, which involved navigating a long tunnel that uses a 5 minute delayed traffic signal to allow traffic through one direction at a time:

And taken during last night's "Jaunt":

I walked through the tunnel at the top, and found the following view on the other side. An epic expanse of trails and hills ripe for the exploring (another day).

The tunnel back to the road:

Hills.

If there's a single topic of discussion that all riders seem to enjoy, it's hills. The joy, the pain, the anticipation, the legendary ascents.

Thus have I learned about hills:

• If you continue pedaling, no matter how slowly, you will eventually get to the top.
• The reward of a difficult hill is an exhilarating downhill.
• Talking to someone while you ascend makes it much easier.
• Complaining (or riding with a complainer) while you ascend makes it much harder.

I have been on a lot of training rides heading North from San Francisco, which usually involves encountering the famously feared Camino Alto Road. Here is a video I took, starting near the top of the ascent, and continuing down to the traffic light at the bottom of the hill.

Note: the bumpiness of the descent kept angling the camera down, which occasionally brings my headlight into the frame.

For all the computer gamers out there, that is not a handlebar-mounted weapon of any sort, it is a battery powered accessory designed to project photons in a focused pattern to warn car drivers of my presence in low light situations.

Bicycling - natural link to thrills and adventure.

I achieved my lifetime maximum single day mileage this weekend. 65 miles on Saturday, the 1st of March, 2008. It has become a wonderful feeling (as I wasn't feeling so wonderful at the time.) But, a couple days later, refueled through rest, ingestion of protein and carbohydrates, and lots of fluid replacement, I am feeling a mixture of accomplishment and doom. It was a difficult ride, and my capacity is about two thirds the way towards an average day on the seven day AIDS/LifeCycle ride. Oy.

The ride was undertaken with a crew of about 15 riders of varying experience, starting and ending at the Orinda rapid transit station, which is about 20 miles from San Francisco. I had been getting bored of riding to Fairfax, where the local rides were heading, and wanted to branch out to see territory unexplored, for which these training rides have been a fantastic motivation.

My training partner through the this ride seemed to be in her early 60's, and had previously ridden the ALC, and had ridden various bicycle touring events around the West Coast. I started up a conversation early with her regarding her custom bicycle frame, and ended up riding most of the day with her, as she maintained a slow, patient pace up hills. She had said to me several times, "feel free to pass me." And I replied, "I'd like to keep the pace slow, and I'm well aware of how many more miles we have to go." Which I can now call the voice of experience. I've learned that feeling good for 20 miles has nothing to do with feeling good for 40 miles, and absolutely nohting to do with being able to maintain comfort and stamina for 60 miles. So, a 4 mph uphill pace was plenty fast for me. At the end of the ride, I still felt very tired, but my knees were not injured, and the soreness to follow was minimized compared to rides where I had kept up a higher pace.

I felt like I had been let in on a Cycle Jedi secret when, after 10 or 15 miles together, she said, "Alex, I'll tell you something. The people who don't pace are the ones who end up filling the medical tents in the evenings during the ride." Tell it true!

Following are some pictures taken during a short training ride I took earlier in the week in preparation for my 65 mile day. These were taken at Fort Funston, in the southwest quadrant of San Francisco. The area includes a cliff overlooking the ocean. Hang gliders congregate there to float on the thermal updrafts.

Tag along with me, and we'll go for a spin.

A'ight. Who's ready to jump on the Lex-Train? Utilizing my low-tech-high-function grippy Flexpod camera mount, I've recorded these intimate views of life on the road. These were recorded on The Great Highway along the Western border of San Francisco, which runs parallel to Ocean Beach and the edge of the Pacific Ocean.

First view: aiming straight ahead.



To the left, beach front property and clouds.



To the right, arm hair flowing in the gentle breeze.



My sunscreened punim, obscured by Rx shades.