In a fit of market-be-damned design that would come to be his trademark,  Grant Petersen left a lot of people scratching their heads when he put drop bars on Bridgestone’s top-of-the-line MB1 mountain bike back in 1987.

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The bike didn’t sell terribly well, and the drop bars came off in subsequent model years. Iconoclast and retrogrouch though he was, even Grant Petersen had to bow to market trends from time to time when he worked for a big bike company. Today, as founder and owner of Rivendell Bicycle Works Grant continues to follow his own muse, perhaps especially when it runs counter to industry trends.

I’ve never ridden the 1987 MB1, but I have done an awful lot of riding off road on different bikes equipped with drop bars. From 2003-2008 I pretty much rode cyclocross style drop-bar bikes exclusively, on and off road. It was a lot of fun to pass a group of people on mountain bikes and hear one of them say, “did you see that dude on a 10-speed?” This was my set-up at the time:

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These days, I have the luxury of owning more than one bike, and most of my off roading takes place on a full-on dual suspension mountain bike. In my view, they can’t be beat for comfort, speed, safety and just all-around fun on rougher trails. However, for the right trail, it can still be a lot of fun to do some off roading on a rigid drop-bar bike, especially if you have a route that involves some mixed terrain.

One of the loops that I like to do is found about 45 minutes east of San Diego in Cuyamaca Ranchero State Park. Here are a couple of pics of a loop I did in early June aboard my drop-bar adventure bike.  If Grant Petersen did a re-issue of the 1987 MB1 and made it in titanium, perhaps it would look something like this:

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I saw a bobcat just minutes after taking this photo on the climb up Milk Ranch Road. Alas, I wasn’t quick enough with the camera!

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When the terrain gets this rocky down a steep descent, riding my rigid drop-bar bike isn’t so fun.  More on optimal off-road set-up below.

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While the ride in the Cuyamacas was fun, there is no denying that it beats you up compared to riding the same route with flat bars and suspension. There are sections that are so rocky that it just about takes the fun out of it. That said, my bike isn’t really optimized for riding rough single track, but is really more of an all-rounder made to ride a variety of surfaces.

If you ride off road with a bike set up like mine, with the tops an inch or two below the saddle, you will be happy on smooth flats and climbs. But when it comes time to descend rough road or trail, you’ll need your hands down in the hooks where you can properly brake. The result is a fair bit of weight on the front wheel and a sound beating to your hands. Not the optimal set-up for riding rigid, where geometries that unweight the hands, à la Jeff Jones are the hot ticket:

Jeff Jones and his Bike

Notice how his design puts your weight back with the slack seat tube angle, and then unweights your hands with a relatively short toptube and high bars? When you are down in the hooks on my bike, you get almost the opposite effect.

To make the drop-bar thing really work off road, you need a bike set-up that is optimized for it. This means getting the tops of the bars way above the saddle so that the hooks of the drops are more or less where your normal flat bars would be. Properly set-up, a dedicated drop bar off-road bike really only has this one good position. But it is a good one! More on proper setup from off-road drop-bar expert and frame builder, Matt Chester.

One of my goals this year had been to earn the California triple crown by riding three double centuries. But after I tweaked tweaked my knee and managed to create a few other soft tissue issues by training for and completing my first double of the year in February of this year, I pulled way back on the mileage.

Since then, I’ve pretty much stuck to riding 2-4 hour rides and have done a lot more cross-training. Seems to be working, more or less, as long as I don’t try to get too heroic with the mileage.

So it was with a bit of hesitation than I decided to ride the San Diego Randonneurs Kitchen Creek Brevet this last Saturday with my friends Esteban, Aaron, and Joe. At 200 kilometers and 11,000 feet of climbing, maybe this ride wasn’t exactly what most people would call knee-rehab friendly! But I figured there were a few good bail-out options, so if my knee and other issues started to flare up, I could always call it a day.

The other thing that made this ride hard to resist is that I know from experience that the whole route is just stunning, winding over low-traffic country roads that take you through a number of different ecosystems, from desert chaparral to pine forest.

Foolish decision perhaps, but sometimes you gotta heed the call of the open road:

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Esteban in full aero tuck:

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Me and Aaron riding, photo by Esteban:

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At the checkpoint about 55 miles in, we were feeling high energy. My knee was doing OK, even if my left calf kept threatening to cramp up. I had ideas that I might even finish the entire 200K rather than bail out early. So it was a bit sobering to look at my Garmin and realize that 55 miles in we had actually descended slightly more than we had climbed!

That was about to change.

Kitchen Creek road is an epic piece of narrow mountain road beauty. If you close your eyes and wear enough Rapha, it’s almost like a mountain pass in Europe. Call it the Col du Ruisseau Cuisinier. In 14 miles, it climbs unrelentingly from the desert up to the pines at grades of 5-12% (and even steeper in a few short pitches). It starts as a two-lane road:

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But after a few miles and a gate that prevents car traffic for a good section of the road, it narrows quite a bit:

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Kitchen Creek is a challenging climb in the best of times, but this one was especially tough due to high temperatures. I think the ambient air was only high 80s or so, but the heat radiating off the pavement can create a heat index that is much higher. My Garmin was claiming 104 degrees, and it felt like it:

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Looking back down after the initial part of the climb:

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Suffering as I was, I did stop a few times to smell the flowers:

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As we neared the top after a good 1.5 hours of climbing, we finally hit pine trees. They don’t look like much, but the smell and cooler air above 5000 feet was very welcome.

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Once we finally got to the checkpoint at mile 70 near the Mount Laguna summit, I was feeling pretty cooked. The knee was doing OK to so-so, but I didn’t want to push it, and my left calf was still feeling crampy. Since the car was only 10 miles away, all down hill, and completing the ride would involve anther 50 miles and 5000 feet of climbing, it wasn’t a tough decision to call it a day. The fun had gone out of it, and I didn’t want to risk injury after not having done a long ride in 3 months.

With the heat and cramping issues faced by others, I was in good company: Joe, Esteban, and Aaron decided to pull the plug too. Aaron probably coulda and woulda finished (he is wearing Rapha after all), but decided to show solidarity with the rest of us:

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The payoff for the Kitchen Creek inferno was a screaming 10-mile descent back into Pine Valley that at least allowed all of us to finish the ride with a little adrenaline rush and a smile. The view from Esteban’s cockpit on the descent:

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Coming down, I had a number of bugs splatter on the windshield of my glasses:

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That, my friend, is why we wear eye protection. Nothing like bug guts on your eyeball!

In hindsight, perhaps this isn’t the ideal time of year to do this particular 200K with the possibility of heat that exists inland. But go too much earlier, and you risk not being able to climb Kitchen Creek due to snow. I found this out the hard way in February of this year when we pushed our bikes through 2 miles snow near the top, feet frozen into numb, wet bricks for the ride down. High times:

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All in all, it was good to get out, the company was superb, and I’m glad a did it. But I think I’ll be putting my long-distance “career” on hold for a good number of months yet. That’s OK, as the 3-4 hour mountain bike rides are a lot of fun, and the hiking, core work, and other aspects of cross training aren’t too bad either.

Full photo set here. You can read Esteban’s ride report on his blog here and see his full photo set here.

In other posts, I’ve alluded to the quality/intensity v. quantity of training debate. As an attempt to introduce a little more intensity into my riding this summer, I’ve been forgoing my bike commute to work from time to time, and throwing the mountain bike in the back of the car for an after work ass kicker known as Cowles Mountain.

At 1592 feet, Cowles Mountain is the highest point within the city of San Diego. There are a couple of options, but the trail I typically take to the summit climbs 1200 feet in just two and a quarter miles. Try this one when you’re too out of shape, and you’ll feel as delirious as Hunter S. Thompson on a Las Vegas bender.

You can see the radio towers up top–your destination–as you arrive at the trail head:

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The trail is unrelentingly steep right out of the parking lot, and would be a serious cardio challenge even if it were smooth as glass. But what makes it especially draining are the endless water bars, each of which requires an extra burst of energy to clean. They don’t look like much, but when your heart rate is at 95% of max and you’re rolling at 4 mph, they can be challenging enough. Especially after several dozen of them:

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Rocks, and rocks mixed with waterbars don’t make it any easier:

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At about the half way point, you exit the single track and get a view of the fire road that takes you to the summit. It winds up the mountain at grades well north of 23%.

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I had to push my bike the last 700 feet as I just plain ran out of juice. I hope to make it all the way to the top without any hike a bike some day soon.

The view from the top can be terrific, but a lot depends on how hazy it happens to be. Today was one of the hazier days. Looking back down the fire road I just climbed:

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Downtown San Diego in the purple hazy distance:

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And the obligatory bike pic at the summit. This would be a good trail for a nice 20lb cross country rig, but the 30lb Pivot does just fine, especially on the way down!

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In my efforts to do more cross training and enjoy the outdoors, I’m thinking about going to a MovNat training in West Virginia this summer. You get to spend a week in the woods learning how to do barefoot running, and just generally ripping it up on trails, trees, rocks, and lake. Erwan Le Corre makes it look easy:

This will not be news to those who follow other Paleo blogs, but it might be new for a lot of cycling types out there. According to one story recently reported, marathon running may not be as heart healthy as Americans have come to think in the last 40 years:

ATLANTA — A group of elite long-distance runners had less body fat, better lipid profiles, and better heart rates than people being tested for cardiac disease, but, paradoxically, the runners had more calcified plaque in their heart arteries, according to a study reported here.

In other words, marathoners look like the picture of health:  skinny, low cholesterol, low resting heart rate. But cutting against the grain of conventional dietary wisdom, they have more artery clogging plaque than more more sedentary types. Whether this is due to the actual stress associated with marathon running, or the high-carb diet that is typical of marathon runners, is unclear.

This comes on the heels of a german study that indicated that marathon runners are more likely to have heart problems than their otherwise low weight and “good” lipid profiles would suggest. You can find a much more detailed discussion of these studies over on Kurt Harris’s PaNu Blog here and here. Kurt is an MD, and does a much better job outlining them than I could.

The point is that there seems to be an increasing amount of evidence (at least for this layperson) to suggest that our bodies consider “ultra” and long-distance cardio activities to be stressful and traumatic events (and not in the good way that all exercise stresses the body). At the least, excessive cardio is not making you healthier. At worst, these long-distance activities might actually do damage over the long term.

That might be obvious to some–moderation almost always seems like the way to go in health matters–but it’s a bitter bill to swallow for exercise junkies who have been trying to go stronger and longer in their quest for fitness, personal challenge, etc.

The good news is that there is also an increasing amount of evidence to suggest that when it comes to fitness gains, quality/intensity may be more important than quantity. Sprinting, intervals, and shorter periods of ass kicking have many of the same (positive) physiological effects on your body as doing the long miles, as per this admittedly limited study.

Applying this to cycling, it would suggest we should all do a lot more casual riding at a mellow, fat-burning pace (say under 75% of max heart rate). The human body was designed to move slowly over long distances with little harm, and this sort of riding is the equivalent of a brisk walk. The everyday, practical sort of riding being promoted by the good folks at Rivendell comes to mind.

When you want to kick it up a notch, hill work, intervals, and other intense forms of training for briefer periods will keep you in top form. But for many, “intervals” have all the regimented appeal of going to boot camp. Biking is supposed to be fun, right?

Well, there is a form of biking that incorporates a lot of these principles while still being exciting: it’s called mountain biking. It involves short bursts of power and sprints to clean hills and other obstacles, often followed by downhills and periods of rest. Call them “intervals” or “hill work” if you like, but most of us just call it fun.

To be sure, you can overdo it in mountain biking just like anything else: 24 hour events and hardcore XC race training come to mind. But in the long run, the kind of mellow mountain biking that most of us do on the local trails every weekend is probably more heart healthy than long-distance road cycling, or a 4-hour club ride done at 90% of maximum heart rate.

The other advantage to mountain biking– getting yourself “out there” and into places like this:

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That’s me doing the Palm Canyon epic outside of palm springs.

After completing my first ever double century last fall in Death Valley, I set a goal this year to complete at least three of them. This seemed like a good challenge, and would allow me to earn the California Triple Crown jersey.

Hardcore Paleo enthusiasts would frown upon such behavior, as they believe that the “chronic cardio” associated with training for and completing ultra-distance events is hard on your body. In addition to the danger of overuse injuries, you have the oxidative stress associated with running your body in the glucose burning aerobic zone for extended periods of time. Our bodies are very well adapted to moving over long distances at a sub-aerobic, fat-burning pace. They do less well when you ask them to perform high-octane cardio work for twelve or more hours.

I think most ultra distance runners and cyclists sense the danger (especially the day after an ultra event), but it’s hard to give up the challenge that longer distances provide.  It’s also hard for many of us to believe that exercise could somehow be bad for you.

In any event, after ramping up my training for a double this February way too fast, I managed to tweak my knee and create a few other soft tissue issues. After completing the Camino Real Double, I had to drop out of the spring version of the Death Valley Double.

Since then, I’ve dropped my cycling mileage way back, and I’ve been trying to do a lot more cross training: hiking, kettlebell, pilates, etc. The hope is that eventually I’ll be able to increase the mileage again (slowly) and the cross-training that I’ve been doing will leave me less prone to overuse injuries. Or it may be that I’m just not cut out for the ultra stuff. Maybe the hardcore Paleo guys are right after all . . .

The good news is that cross-training is actually a lot of fun, and I’ve rediscovered the joy of hiking. My dog Zayzay is especially psyched about this new trend.

After the desolate splendor of Haleakalā, here are a few pics from some of the rain forest hikes I’ve been doing on Maui:

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Sunrise on Haleakalā was stunning, but since we had to leave immediately afterward as part of the bike tour we were on, we had no time to do any hiking down into the Haleakalā “crater.” (Technically, it’s not a crater, but that’s the easiest way to describe it).

I’m glad we spent another morning driving up there to explore a bit more as it’s a fantastic area. The only downside is that you start the hike with a descent down into the crater and then have a long trudge uphill breathing thin 10,000 foot air on the way back.

There are three cabins down in the crater, and if you are lucky with the reservation lottery, you could plan a fantastic hike from the summit to one of the cabins, spend the night, and then spend the next day hiking a trail all the way down to the east coast of Maui, where you would need a car pickup. That, along with actually riding up to the summit of Haleakalā by bike are on my list for next time I come here.

You can see why NASA once had astronauts in training practice moonwalks in this same area:

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Very interesting article from today’s Washington Post, reporting that between one and four percent of the DNA of modern non-African humans is traceable to our Neanderthal cousins.

The low-carb lifestyle in action.  Note the ripped physique.  This was no pasta eater.

The Low-Carb Lifestyle in Action

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