Honey Stinger Waffles

I thought I would put together this short "how To" about tearing into Honey Stinger waffles easier.  As they have plans on changing the packaging this may only work for a few who have received some waffles from the 1st or 2nd batches and have the right tool, a pair of pinking shears.  If you or someone you know sews then they probably have a pair.  If not you can pick some up online for a low as $10 Pinking sears on google.

Simple cut the top off across the seal.

Test the weakened packaging.

Truly the best riding snack around.

On a side note, that is two days growth in my support of http://www.movember.com/.  So grow a mo, grab a waffle and ride on.

LiveSTRONG Challenge Austin 2010

First and foremost I have to thank everyone who donated to LiveSTRONG on my behalf.  We raised $625 of the $3.1 Million that was donated to the foundation for the Austin event.  I was honored to ride for all those who have been fighting and in memory of those who lost the fight.  It was a weekend to remember.

I left Carlsbad at 02:30 Saturday morning.  Those riding had a small window of opportunity to pick up their ride pack at the LiveSTRONG village in downtown Austin, so timing was important.  This early start really confused my internal clock for the rest of the weekend.  After picking up my swag I walked around to the different booths at the village, got a quick glimpse of Lance Armstrong and an even quicker lunch then I headed to the hotel for an early night.  Unfortunately it was 11:30 so I thought I would take a nap.   Needless to say the day was about timing my bedtime with a decent hour, I wanted to be awake for the ride but by 20:00 I was wiped and needed to hit the sack.

I woke every hour until 04:00 when I gave in and got out of bed.  The next two hours were spent in contemplative prayer.  Early morning TV does nothing for me so I listened to some music and thought about what the day's events were to mean to so many.  I left at 06:30 and arrived 2 miles from the start at 07:15.  For the next 40 minutes I sat in my truck following a near motionless, endless line of cars trying to park for the day.

I had donned my cycling shorts at the hotel and was able to finish dressing myself in the front seat of my truck, while driving.  Jersey, socks and shoes were fairly easy but getting the heart rate monitor on under my jersey was a bit tough.  I filled my pockets with what I take with me on rides this long.  1 spare tube (more on that later), 3 Honey Stinger banana gels, 2 Honey Stinger Orange Blossom Chews, 2 Honey Stinger Apple cinnamon energy bars, 3 Honey Stinger Waffles, fingerless gloves (I don't like gloves unless it rains), and my soon to be dead phone.  I parked at 07:50 a mere 1 mile from the start.  I jumped out of the truck, grabbed the bike, shoved my key in my pocket and took off.

I made my way to the back of the mass of cyclists that were to partake in the various rides.  I listened to but did not take in much of the pre-start introductory announcements.  I don't want to make light of the situation but when you are at the start you just want to ride, especially when you can't see who is talking.  There were speeches and thanks all around as well as a lovely rendition of the National Anthem sung by a survivor.  Finally at exactly 07:13 the countdown began. 10, 9, 8 everyone started clipping in, 7, 6, 5, computers were reset and fingers were poised to push start, 4, 3, 2, 1...Nothing.  I have no clue what held us up but we sat for another minute until we heard another countdown.  This time from 5 and this time nobody prepared, and this time the mass ahead moved.  People walked and skipped their bike forward to the start line and as soon as I had the room I mounted, clipped in and rolled slowly to the start.  5 minutes after the official “start” I crossed the line.

Rolling with that may people was an odd sensation.  Though not packed tightly, there was no break in the long line of cyclists rolling down the road.  At mile .72  I heard a loud POP and my front end went wobbly.  I was able to control the  blow out and stopped at the side of the road to change my tube. 

I carry two tubes with me, one in a saddle bag and one in my pocket.  Using the saddle bag tube first I did a fast change with a stream of jeers, sympathies, and laughs rolling by.  I used a CO2 cartridge to air up my tire and promptly popped the tube.  If it was not for the fact that I pulled over near a child and his mother, the obscenities would have flowed freely.  Another quick change where I used my last tube and last CO2 cartridge and I was back on the road.  I pulled up to a SAG Van  a couple hundred yards down the road and filled the tube to 120psi.  It held.

To understand the scale of how many people were on this ride, I was one the first 1000 people across the line.  Pulling over and changing 1 tube takes me roughly 2 minutes.  After the first tube blew out I took another couple minutes to compose myself because I was going to change to my last tube and I still had 64.25 miles to ride.  So the second tube change probably took me 5 minutes.  In that 7 minutes the stream of riders passing me did not diminish.  I had to ease back into the river of bikes.  A quick look back and I saw the line was still forming at the start.

It was a packed road.  For the first 4 miles I had a hard time passing people.  At that point though, there was a split for the 10 mile course and the pack thinned.  Near mile 7 it stacked up again as we were forced to dismount to cross a stream. Glad to do it as the algae nearly took me out as I walked across the shallow water.  Beyond that was an 8% hill which I danced up pretty well and the pack once again thinned amongst the strong and the stragglers.  There was no place on the entire course to form a pace line of more than 2 or 3 riders.  It was up hill, down hill, left bend, right bend  all the way around.

At mile 14 was our first “Power Stop”.  There was a 10 minute wait for the bathroom, a lot of water and a lot of food. Peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, oranges, bananas and boxes of Honey Stinger products.  I stood and talked to some people and ate some sandwiches.  Those around me loved my bike, loved what I had done and one gentleman summed up what we were all thinking.  “Too many names on that bike”.  After this conversation I rode with a little more on my mind.

I am not the fastest rider, but for most of the day I was passing people.  My initial mishap had put me behind those I would normally ride with.  Groups of certain speeds tend to get together early in rides like these but it took me most of the full 65 miles to get to that group.  Passing people gave me a chance to read the backs of a lot of riders.  Each person had one, two, three even four white cards on which they had written the names of those people for whom they were riding.  The names of those who are fighting or have lost the fight.  Every now and then there was a yellow card that said “Survivor”  I made it a point to slow and talk to these people.   They were fighters, survivors, the reason I was there.

You have probably asked yourself what had happened to my 90 mile ride.  To begin with, I thought it was odd that the organizers of the event stated in the literature that those riding 90 who had not hit the 36 mile mark by 11:30  would be routed to the 65 miler.  That's a blistering 12mph.  Which would make a 90 mile ride take 7.5 hours.  That is a long time in the saddle.  What I didn't take into account was what would happen at the power stops. 

I stood around the first Power Stop for 30 minutes.  Everyone chatting about bikes and cancer, and Honey Stinger.  Because I was wearing my full Honey Stinger team kit and Honey Stinger donated a lot of nutrition to the event there were a ton of questions directed toward me.  I happily answered and made suggestions on flavors.  Finally a few of us agreed that it was time to get going.  The next rest stop was another 10 miles down the road.

This was the pace for most of the day.  Moving from stop to stop, riding and talking. Talking and riding.  I kept my pace up riding with three or four people, getting dropped on 10% climbs and dropping some on 10% descents.  I moved from one small group to the next making my way to the end.  But each Power Stop had more people, more food, more fun.

The stop at the 36 mile mark had a live rock band and though I was within the time to branch for the 90, I had a group I was enjoying so I continued onto the 65.  One gentleman summed up the rest of the day when he said, “It's just about finishing”.  I peddled on to finish.

With 7 miles to go I rounded a corner to see 7 or 8 guys standing around a truck all sucking on brown water bottles with yellow stripes.  I came to a skidding halt as this was my type of rest stop.  An unofficial beer stop.  I would have made my plea for a beer and graciously declined the offer.  However, the proprietor of the stop  let me know that she had just given away the last beer (Shiner Bock).  Needless to say I gave her a hard time.  We all laughed and I moved on as the half dozen chugged their beers so as not to have to offer any to passing riders.

The final rest stop was run by Mellow Johnny's bike shop and Juan Pelota coffee shop both owned by Lance Armstrong.  With more Honey Stinger gels, peanut butter sandwiches, oranges and bananas in my body than humanly possible the shot of espresso was a welcome relief.  By this time the talk in the stops was about finishing, and the questions I was inundated with early on were now words of praise.  People telling me what their favorite flavor of Honey Stinger was, what they liked most and what they planed to try.  Calls of “Hey Stinger Man” came from riders as well as from cars lined up on the final road to the finish.

As I came into the finish I zipped up my jersey and rode past the photographers in hopes of getting a good shot of myself.  I then rolled through the barriers to hear the shouts of the many supporters lining the finish line.  I had a glimpse of chalk written on the ground but not a clue what any of it said.  The finish was broken into two lanes.  Those who rode in support or in memory of someone and survivors, who were given a yellow rose.  I heard my name over the loud speaker and “He's our first from New Mexico” which made me look down at my top tube where my mom's name is written.  I said a prayer in thanksgiving and walked my bike around the LiveSTRONG village. I got a wonderful 15 minute massage, stopped by the Honey Stinger Tent, chatted and congratulated other finishers. 

I was proud to be part of something this great.  It was one of the most beautiful rides I have ever been on and I was amazed at the support for the fight against cancer.  There are estimates that between 4,500 and 5,500 people participated with over 800 volunteers bringing this amazing event together.  I hung around the village for another couple hours, lending my support at the finish line and realizing there were still people on course.  Still riding and still fighting to the end.

My numbers were not that impressive:  65.5 miles,  4:01:01 time, 16.25 mph average, 2919 feet climbing, and average HR of 148 and only 4500 calories burned.  I returned to Carlsbad with a vow to do it again next year with more aggressive means of raising donations.  I really want that Jersey.  $1000 was the goal this year and I missed it.  So start saving your pennies and digging into the couch cushions.  Those with cancer will fight each day to beat it, everyday.  I will do what I can to help those I love continue their fight.

Alone Again in the Heat and Wind

Well the Title really says it all.  I found myself once again alone in the heat and wind of west Texas. It's a lonely road when you are all alone and made worse when those who you can ride with are in a group going faster than yourself.

The "Roll for the Cure" had 4 rides associated with it.  The 100K competitive, 100k non-competitive, 50k and 25k non-competitive rides.  Without a doubt I would ride the 100k competitive course.  With a mix of Cat1 to Cat5 racers we were honored to have former pro cyclist and announcer Chad Patterson in the peleton. 

We rolled out of the start area at exactly 8:06 am with the temperature sitting comfortably at nearly 26ºC. From the NM Junior College we rolled north along the Lovington Hwy to our first turn at Alabama Street heading East.  This was the longest straight that was 6 to 7 miles long.  We rolled casually but still turning over 20mph.  I personally met a couple people and conversations were heard throughout the pack.

A couple miles up Alabama Rd we came across a small heard of  horses in a field.  As we passed the herding instinct must have kicked in because they ran with us for a few hundred meters.  I love these moments because they are not something everyone gets to enjoy and they don't come around everyday.

3 miles onto Alabama we came upon our first obstacle.  A corner official.  As we neared the intersection of Alabama and Dal Paso a guy in a yellow vest jumps out into the road and starts waving us to the right.  Like an over caffeinated 3rd base coach his left arm straight while his right rotated like a Pete Townshead solo we nearly took the turn for the 25k course.  Yells from the pack kept us straight and together.  But not for long.

The end of the road was near. The pack was going to turn.  Murmurs throughout said we were to turn left on to State Line Rd and then an immediate right.  There were no arguments so I looked ahead at what to expect.  I saw that the road we were to jog over to kicked up for a short 200 yard hill and these are my downfalls.  As big as I am I am not the King of the Mountain.  I needed to be in the front at the turn to stay with the pack as they crest the hill or I would be spit out the back.

The left hand turn came and I was in 2nd or 3rd.  Looking up to see the Sheriff deputy's car blocking oncoming traffic I made a run for the right hand turn, just 20-40 yards away, and jumped out of the saddle.  Now there are two problems with this tactic.  First of all is that the group sees it as an attack and they react, flying up the hill and popping me out the back.  Second is that the corner marshals are not doing their job and I take a wrong turn with the rest of the peleton leaving me high and dry.  Two guesses which happened to me.

I was about 50 yards up this small hill when I noticed yelling from behind.  A quick look and I watched as the peleton sped away, continuing north.  My reaction was quick and decisive,  I found and used as many curse words as I could think up in a matter of a few seconds. As I made my U-turn I rolled slowly knowing the road from here to be a long and lonely one.  In the next second I decided to chase.

Moving into the drops, sliding myself forward in the saddle I dug in and pumped my legs.  The next 4 miles was downwind and the Peleton was in sight.  My heart rate jumped to 175bpm and that is where I stayed.  A turn back to the East and into a cross wind I pumped hard to make the catch before the right-hander into the wind.  This was a valiant yet fruitless effort as my 2 minute deficit would slowly grow to the ridiculous.

At some point the pack split and I set my sites on those who dropped from the main pack.  30 minutes later I was still pumping 175bpm and passing slower riders.  What I was looking for was someone who I could catch and work with to increase our speed.  Unfortunately those who get sucked out the back are usually going slower than I want to go and they are riding at or above anaerobic capacity and just can't keep up a solid pace.  Don't get me wrong, I am not insulting these guys because I have been in that predicament many times.  If I hadn't set my sights on catching the peleton I  would probably have slowed enough to have a leisurely ride back to the finish with one or more of these unfortunates, creating our own Autobus.

So I kept hammering at a vicious 175bpm.  Somewhere around mile 34 I had to give up.  My body couldn't hold on and I was making no progress.  Uphill and into the wind knocked it out of me.  Also my left hamstring was tightening to the point I started favoring my right leg quite a bit.  To the point of hurting and calling my wife to come get me.  She, however, was nowhere near and I  trudged on.  At the second to last water station I pulled over and a wonderful woman, whose name I forget, rubbed my hamstring and said there was probably no damage.  She also filled my bottles and gave me food.  Revitalized I sped off in the now 35ºC heat for the final 10 miles to the finish.

I finished in 3 hours 34 minutes (add 2 minutes on my GPS for rolling to the family) which is 4 minutes off my goal.  In the end my Heart rate really tells the story.  37 minutes above 172pbm with a max of 181.  46 minutes between 167-171bpm and averaging 160bpm for the three and a half hour Odyssey.  If you don't think Hobbs is a flat area of the country and there is wind consider that in 60 miles I climbed 248 feet and only averaged 16.8mph.  I was alone again in the heat and the wind.

Here is a link to my graphs an the map.  And you can see the little tit where it all went wrong in the left hand turn just before mile 15.  I was miserable for most of the day but would have it no other way.  We supported the fight on cancer and that was my driving force for the last hurtful miles.
Roll for a Cure

If you are interested in donating to help fight cancer I do have a donation page setup as I set my sights on The Livestrong Challenge in Austin in October.  austin2010.livestrong.org/mpatrickmitchell

My Livestrong Challenge

This was printed on a message to all my facebook friends.  Please check back for updates and the donation links.

In this event I have added everyone on my friends list.  That means for one reason or another I know you, are friends with you or am married to you.

What some of you may know is that my mom was diagnosed and treated for breast cancer last year.  What most of you don't know is that over the past 20 years I have lost way too many friends to this horrible disease.  From friends I have watched in their final days to those whom I have regrettably lost touch with.   I think about all of them all the time.  I think about what I could have done to help them or their families.  What I discovered is that I needed to do something now.

I started riding a "racing" bike at the age of 13.  I rode all over Albuquerque, everyday of every summer.  Though by my senior year I had put the bike aside until I started riding again in the mid 90s.  About 5 years ago I stopped again and gained an inordinate amount of weight.  Given a bike by one of my best friends, I started to ride again only to be held up a year until I had a knee fixed.  That was literally a year ago.  I have lost over 40 lbs and have put thousands of miles beneath my wheels. 

At the same time, Lance Armstrong returned to the pro pelaton and he had a great impact on me.  He rode a Time Trial bike that had the words "Never Forget Your Beginnings" on the top tube (the danger tube).  I remember my beginnings very well.  It started with my mom and all she has given me.  But I had given so little back  and when I saw that top tube I remembered that I had forgotten.  I needed to do something, so I got my knee fixed and I got on the bike

So, here I am a year later with the Tour de France starting tomorrow and I decided I needed to do something for those who need it the most.  Those suffering with cancer and their families.

And here I get to the point of this event.  I want your help.  I want your friend's help.  I want your friend's friends' help.  In the next day or 2 I will post the link to a page where you can donate your hard earned money to the Livestrong foundation.  Just click and donate.

Now I know it is hard for people to give up money when money is tight so I have decided to give you all a chance at getting something back.  Each month I will raffle off a prize to be won to those who chose to donate.  Each $10 a person donates will be 1 entry in that month's raffle.  One winner will be drawn from the entries.

The prize for July will be an original  16"x20" framed photographic print by myself.  My very popular "Wild Daisy at Sunset"  Seen here: http://www.pbase.com/praetoriv/image/83621479

Now, if I don't have contact info on the people who donate I can't call them so they need to come to this event or email me at m.patrick.mitchell@gmail.com.

So what is my part in all this? Obviously the ride, and more riding.  I hope that by the end of October to have 2000 miles ticked off the odometer.  Every mile is for my mom, every pedal stroke for those whom have lost their lives to cancer and every heart beat to those who will fight the good fight.

Second Timothy 4:7
I have fought the good fight.
I have finished the race.
I have kept the faith.