California Sampler

Running Malibu BeachIMG_00000191

It wasn’t much of a running performance, but who the heck cared? It easily makes it into my top 5 most scenic+feelgood runs. It was warm, I could smell the salt air and the surf pounded. So of course I stopped on the beach a few times for pictures. And after we were done, we had beachfront fish’n’chips.

Driving Los Angeles

Yes I drove, stylishly, the white minivan on the Ventura Freeway, Sunset Boulevard, Melrose Avenue, Santa Monica Boulevard, and Pacific Coast Highway. Had I been a passenger, I would have more to say about the Hollywood sign, Hollywood hipsters, U-turns in Beverly Hills, gawking at the giant Palm trees on Rodeo drive, an easy drive to the coast, and sun setting on the ocean. But for an L.A. drive-by, I was impressed. Still wouldn’t want to live there. But a great afternoon-evening.

Unintentional Cyclo-Cross

“Gate’s closed, but you can get through”, the guy said.

So we did. And promptly ended up in a dusty, boulder-strewn single-track trail that is heaven for mountain bikers. But for us roadies, shouldering our rides
and picking our way around rocks in cycling shoes, it was awkward and we looked like dorks. We managed some of it on our bikes, though one of us bit it, letting out a howl that echoed through the canyon. Turns out the trail led to the area that was used for the outdoor camp scenes of MASH, but no medical attention was required despite the bloodshed. A beautiful death march of sorts.

Eventually, we got back to business on asphalt and completed our daily mile of vertical without further incident, but with sun and smiles. IMG_00000205

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Nineteen Miles up to Mt. Wilson Observatory

“OWWWWW. JEEEEZUS F*CK WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?!”

Turns out the enraged howl of agonized obscenity from across the courtyard at the Goodnite Inn Calabasas wasn’t from some domestic dispute. It was from one of my guys. Misplaced joshing caused Tweedledum to slap Tweedledee on the hip – hard – not knowing he had bad road rash from a recent fall off his bike. On the drive to Pasadena today, the guys agreed:

“Our friendship is based on the fact that we aren’t actually friends.”

Scores would be settled over the 30km ride, climbing 1600m to the famous observatory. I never saw the grudge match, as they rode away from me quickly. IMG_00000185Instead, I gobbled down a Power Bar and a Starbucks Espresso Double Shot and settled in for my longest, highest climb ever. For the next 90 or so minutes, with no watch, no Garmin, no real distance markers and no one around it was just me, sheer, bleached cliffs, tarmac, and my breathing. Basically just ride until, at some point, you get to the top and get to stop.

My buddies waited for me for the last 8km segment, and I returned the courtesy by attacking immediately. It makes a big difference knowing how much more you have to endure. Up top, the Observatory was closed but the hazy view of the surrounding mountains complemented my blurred vision.

The others barrelled back down. I “mini-kegged”. Here’s what a half-hour of continuous descent at maybe 50-60km/h feels like:

Sounds like: wind howling in your ears

Looks like: blue sky, rock face, tarmac tangents, squirrel playing chicken

Feels like: cold, salty snot running down your nose and into your mouth that you dare not wipe off. Handlebars vibrating.photo 1