Corazón a Través del Alta de California

If you go to the X-Features in Strava, you'll find the beta version of Time-Warp - I'm not sure it's up anymore.  Time-Warp allows you to view KOMs in specific timeframes - sort of the opposite of the "2015 KOMs" they introduced this year - like, who had the KOM up Old La Honda in 2010?  A hidden feature in Time-Warp is the ability to follow historic figures, so I started following Junipero Serra.  There's a modified Fly-By feature, too, which lets you ignore the year and just compare the same day and time; it's a little buggy because there was no such thing as Daylight Savings Time when Junipero was riding, but it was interesting to look at his rides compared to the current day Heart Across America.

Serra was a Franciscan friar from Spain in the late 1700s and a heck of a bike rider, according to Strava Time-Warp.  Apparently, he did his winter training in Baja, but lived in Carmel - near Monterey, CA.  Strava did not have clubs at the time, nor did Google have groups.  So Serra founded Missions: Mission Basilica San Diego de Alcalá in 1769 then on further north until he bumped into some Russian clubs.  Serra couldn't take any KOMs from the Russians, who dominated the gloomy north coast and OWNED Russian Hill in San Francisco. Or should I say "Rey de la montaña"?  Hmm, maybe "Король горы" further north.

As you know, Serra used the Missions to convert the local cyclists to Christianity.  And they needed it - they all seemed to be obsessed with - nay, WORSHIPPED - Mount Diablo.  Judging from my own experience dodging cyclists on that hill, I'd say the devil has won.  Serra recruited local cyclists.  I'm guessing they didn't have "no-drop" rides because the literature is full of stories of "punishing" rides and a lot of the locals actually died.  Worse than Eddy Merckx - the cannibal.  I haven't found any evidence that Serra actually ate other club riders, FYI.

From Serra's Instagram account

Serra rode an old Orbea with Compagnolo components.  Likely the Roman components were the spoils from some previous border transgression. Today, we'd probably call it a cross bike.  He had several bikes, of course - doesn't everybody?  He also had a time trial bike from the defunct Euskady tribe in the Basque region.  It had make-shift aero bars and he had a BMX-style aero helmet from Specialized.  Rumor has it that Greg LeMond stole the idea from his 4th grade history class.


Most of the activities on Serra's Strava page were point-to-point rides.  He wasn't one for out-and-backs or loops.  His Missions were spaced roughly 30 miles apart because he didn't have bottle cages on his bike and Camelbaks hadn't been invented yet.  He'd get a bit dehydrated, but life was tough back then.  30 miles would take all day on a horse or three days on foot, according to local legend.  With the Orbea and 35mm tires, his PR between Missions was just under three hours - it was all hard-pack gravel back then and a few streams to cross.  He replaced a lot of tubes; sidewall cuts, pinch flats, and some flats that looked like pinch flats but were actually rattlesnake bites.  His carbon-soled sandals were okay (charcoal), but the leather straps didn't fare well in the water.  The wool kit (habit or robe) was a special multi-layer fabric that wicked sweat from his body and had the three-color stripes of the Spanish national champion on the collar.  Such a Fred.

The Heart Across America ride started last Sunday in Palo Alto, a few blocks from current-day El Camino Real.  In this part of the state, current-day El Camino is very close to Serra's El Camino Real (aka, the Mission Trail, King's Highway or the Royal Road).  Serra would ride from Mission to Mission; Maloney and crew headed west that afternoon, hotel to hotel.  They rode down the coast and ended up in Davenport, just north of Santa Cruz.  Serra would have headed east from Mission Santa Clara de Asis (Santa Clara) to Mission San Jose (Fremont), then southwest to Mission Santa Cruz.  On Day 2, Serra went inland to Mission San Juan Bautista and then meeting Maloney, who hugged the coastline, finishing in Mission San Carlos Borromeo de Carmelo (Carmel).

"We're on a mission from God" - Elwood Blues

At that point, the two paths separated with Serra heading inland for smoother roads while Maloney hugged the cliffs and beaches of the coast, benefiting from the nice pavement on Highway 1 - and accelerating several days ahead of Serra.  Their paths met again in San Luis Obispo (Mission San Luis Obispo de Tolosa).  They skipped Mission La Purísima Concepción and met again at Mission Santa Inés (Solvang), and Mission Santa Barbara (guess where) and Mission San Buenaventura (Ventura) - two days more advantage to Maloney.

The Los Angeles area Missions are slightly inland from the Heart Across America route.  The two are fairly close at Dana Point (Mission San Juan Capistrano) and then aligned again in Oceanside (Mission San Luis Rey de Francia).  From there, it's Serra on his TT bike against Maloney down into San Diego (Mission San Diego de Alcalá).  With rest days and media engagements, Maloney and the Heart Across America team take 12 days.  A shiny new van full of spare parts, food and their clothes followed along, taking no extra time.  Serra never appeared to go back-to-back all the way from Santa Clara to San Diego, according to his Strava activities.  It seems feasible that he could have done it in nine days, assuming he could recover properly.  If you stop at each Mission, Serra's Mission Trail takes 22 days which would be necessary with his many business engagements.  But that's not a completely fair comparison because Serra's SAG wagon was literally a wagon - a horse-drawn wagon accompanied by others on foot.  If Serra had Maloney's SAG wagon (and pavement), he could have made it a close race.  We'd need Bill and Ted's phone booth to really know for sure.

In his day, Serra had a ton of KOMs.  Most were flat segments - the locals could take him on the climbs.  He continued to set PRs into his forties, but had crippling leg problems.  I suspect he didn't have his seat adjusted properly (purely conjecture).  Certainly, his cadence was dramatically lower than Maloney's which would have helped his knees.

What I found most interesting was the low number of kudos.  I think the local cyclists had higher standards for kudos.  Spanish cyclists back in Spain would likely have missed many of Serra's activities because of the time zone - they didn't want to scroll down the parchment far enough to see his rides.  Again, purely conjecture.

If anyone reading this has Time-Warp and follows Serra, leave a comment if you noticed something else.

Before the Heart Across America Ride

We are in the final countdown to the start of Sean Maloney's "Heart Across America" ride.

I thought it was appropriate to look at the relevant history of such rides, and specifically at Day 1.

The very first documented ride across America was in 1884. Thomas Stevens (born not too far from Sean's birthplace in England) rode from San Francisco to Boston, 3,700 miles, in 103 and a half days (20 of which were stopped for weather) - 22 April 1884 through 4 August 1884. Of course, that was still the era of the Pony Express and covered wagons - no bike lanes, no GPS, no pavement. In fact, some sections were completely impassible on wheels so he had to walk. He traveled on rough wagon trails, railroad ways, canal towpaths and irregular public roads. He rode a black-enameled Columbia 50-inch 'Standard' penny-farthing with nickel-plated wheels, built by the Pope Manufacturing Company of Chicago. No carbon.

Thomas Stevens

Sean's route will be longer, but the roads will be better.

At the other end of the spectrum, there is an annual "Race Across America" (RAAM). The current record is 7:15:56 (yes, seven days) by Austrian Christoph Strasser, who averaged over 16mph on the 3,020 mile route from Oceanside, CA to Annapolis, MD.

Sean's route will be longer, but he'll get to sleep a bit more.

On Day 1 of the journey, following some local festivities, they will depart from Sean's current hometown of Palo Alto, CA and head over to the Pacific Ocean. The first climbing section is on Old La Honda Road. It's a popular ride for local cyclists. Perhaps that's an understatement. If you are aware of the cycling activity tracking software called Strava, well, Old La Honda Road is the #1 most popular segment in the entire world. And it has a gloried history of its own.

Old La Honda Road

It’s a public road, of course, not formally marked but the agreed start of the hill climb is the stone bridge; the end is the stop sign at the top of the intersection of Old La Honda and Skyline Blvd.

The course record, according to various posts on USENET newsgroups for decades before and Strava data for more recent years, is under 15 minutes. Legend has it that the old record was held either by Dr. Eric Heiden (the Olympic speed-skating champion who lived 2/3rds up Old La Honda), or a guy named Mike Murray. One source quoted Heiden’s time at 14:10. Ryan Sherlock is the current “king of the mountain” on Strava with a time of 14:41.

I may be going out on a limb here, but I think Sean's time will be slower.

I've added some un-edited comments from a blog post about the road (felixwong.com):
From "Kamikaze"

We did this climb all the time back in 76-85 or so… it was the beginning of the long rides done twice a week with the Palo Alto Crew. I remember Eric Heiden going on the ride sometimes, but the stalwart climbers were Kieth Vierra and Sterling McBride… sometimes Dave Faust (Fausto) and Davey Mac would be going good, as well. The guys always said that Boyer and Ritchey probably were the fastest but that was all related “legend” wise …not actual times. Hard to believe anybody but LeMond could climb it better than Boyer …I remember us going up it in about 20 minutes every time …but we were younger and fitter then …lots of mist and bumps ...dogs sometimes.

From "Fritz Knochenhauer"

Regarding: OLH fastest times. I rode OLH regularly in the late 70s and early 80s. It was definitely the benchmark time trial climb for Category 1/2 USCF riders. It was the stuff of legend to hear times of sub-17 minutes during those days. I can vouch for only three riders in that category (myself included) and believe that Eric Heiden’s time was to his house NEAR the top and not all the way to the stop sign.

From "East Coaster"

Given that Basso climbed Ventoux at 96 vertical feet per minute that is consistent with what a top pro could do. 90 VFM = 14:20, 96 VFM is under 13:30.

I came across some speculation about Chris Horner’s victory on the Sierra Road climb during the Tour of California – and how that would equate to Old La Honda. (http://djconnel.blogspot.com.au/)

The next question: what would he (Horner) do for Old La Honda Road? It requires a self-consistent calculation: we know what he can average for 16:47, we have a formula for predicting what he can average for shorter times (the critical power model), so if we know how long it takes to climb OLH we can estimate how much power he could deliver there. But we need to know the power to estimate the time, so it's simplest to use an iterative calculation. Old La Honda climbs 393 meters in 5.42 km. I'll assume a CdA of 0.32 (typical of what was measured by Tour magazine with a dummy) with an air density of 1.15 kg/m². I'll assume a 0.5% coefficient of rolling resistance as Old La Honda has mixed pavement quality. I'll still assume a 0.97 drivetrain efficiency. Playing around with the numbers I get 13.70 minutes = 13:41. 

That would be a record, but only by 17 seconds or so. Greg Drake told me he'd done "sub-14", and it's rumored Eric Wohlberg was even faster. So Horner had a great ride, no question, especially for a master's racer, but the result isn't as insane as it might appear just from the VAM.

And from the Strava.com website:

Rank	Name	Date	Speed	HR	Power	VAM	Time
1	Ryan Sherlock	Dec 2, 2011	12.5mi/h	176bpm	418W	1,556.9	14:41
2	Kenneth Spencer	Jun 11, 2013	12.4mi/h	-	359W	1,541.1	14:50
2	Adrien Costa	Aug 28, 2013	12.4mi/h	-	495W	1,541.1	14:50
4	Jesse Miller-Smith	May 6, 2011	12.3mi/h	-	417W	1,534.2	14:54
5	Chris Phipps	Jan 7, 2012	12.3mi/h	164bpm	327W	1,522.3	15:01

Needless to say, competitive cyclists take this road seriously.  I have to admit, the engineer in me loves the analysis.  I also love the contrast of this epic battle against a hill compared to the serenity of the Pacific Ocean awaiting them at the end of the day in the sleepy little town of Davenport.

But let's not lose perspective. This is only Day 1 and it's not about speed. It's a ride across the country. But it's more than that. It's about awareness and leading a heart-healthy lifestyle.  It's all to get people talking about health, heart disease and stroke. You see, Sean is a stroke survivor. He's made an impressive comeback from not being able to talk or walk. He never gave up. And now he's setting out across the country to raise awareness for the American Heart Association and sharing his story. What can you do? Follow along. Consider riding with Sean. Consider getting an arterial ultrasound for your carotid arteries. I got the scan. You should, too. Consider donating. Do it for yourself or for a loved one you've lost. It doesn't matter how much or how little you do, just do something good.

Why Cycling?

My interest in cycling has risen and fallen, matured and been superseded by other interests over the course of my fifty-odd years. Although my story was very personal, certainly it was not unique. Not scripted, but the series of events that I perceived also serve to tell the story of cycling in America over the last fifty years. Like some "Forrest Gump" of cycling, starring me. Looking backwards, you’d think it was Lance Armstrong and Greg LeMond before that and grainy images of Tour de France riders with no helmets – but that’s not the way it was for me (I’m older than that!). But first, I'm told that important events occurred before I arrived on the scene.

In the late 1800s the bicycle was the common man's horse prior to the automobile. Bicycle patents accounted for 2/3rds of patent volume during the 1890s. Not to claim too much credit, but the bicycle was, in many ways, the beginning of the women's liberation movement as well. It allowed women to travel independently and led to them wearing bloomers – scandalous, I know! Once the ankles were exposed …well, you know the rest of the story.

Henry Ford is often credited with perfecting the assembly line, but Colonel Pope was said to be mass producing bicycles at the rate of one every minute at the close of the 1890s bicycle boom. The next major milestone was the first balloon tire bikes released by Schwinn in 1933, a tire that could roll over broken glass without a scratch.

In the United States, more babies were born in 1957 than any other year before or since. That represents the peak of the Baby Boomer generation. I represent the end of that generation. Those born in 1957 would have been six years old in 1963 and the world was still innocent enough that kids that age could roam the neighborhood looking for other kids to play with.

In 1963, my mother introduced me to the world and Schwinn introduced the legendary Sting-Ray. West coast kids were putting "Texas longhorn handlebars" on old bikes in the style of the chopper motorcycle. With smooth tires and a banana seat with a sissy bar, Schwinn’s new bike made a bold statement. And it was an immediate and unqualified success. This bike sold like no other Schwinn before it. Every kid had to have one including this one a few years on. And just like kids of the 1930s, they took their rides into the dust and dirt, grass and mud. The tires were perfect for skid-outs. The 20 inch wheels were perfect for wheelies. And the durable Schwinns could still take a curb or even a homemade jump.

In the late 1960s, I rode my Sting-Ray clone against a backdrop of red, white and blue images like Don McLean's thumb from the American Pie album, Peter Fonda's helmet from Easy Rider and Evil Knievel. But then the energy crisis rained on that image for my family and every other American's. In 1973 Americans bought 15 million bicycles (1 million more bicycles than cars), but most of them were road bikes. The Boomers were growing up and banana seats seemed childish. I wanted to ride down the road, go to town, explore. I wanted a 10-speed.

Why did I want a 10-speed? Who knows, I was barely over 10 years old. But a different set of images had been filtering into my consciousness.

Schwinn's road bikes became my new obsession. And not just mine. Like the Sting-Ray before it and the balloon tire before that, the Varsity represented a new shift in American cycling. The 10-speed's narrow wheels, drop handlebars, and hand brakes were designed for speed and distance - modeled after European racing bikes.

The Europeans (and the Japanese) had been making high quality lightweight bicycles for years. Brands like the English Raleigh, the French Peugeot, and the Italian Bianchi began showing up in America. It's hard to imagine how isolated small-town America still was, but this seemed like a new thing for us.

For me, in 1975, it was about touring, as we would call it today. Professional racing was not on my radar even though it was influencing bicycle design. In July, 1975, ABC’s Wide World of Sports broadcast the Tour de France for the first time in America. I don’t remember if I watched, but I probably did because Wide World of Sports (followed by the Wonderful World of Disney and the Lawrence Welk Show) were staples of our family TV viewing routine – replete with manually tuning the antenna to minimize the snow.

My appreciation of European-style bike racing started with the 1979 movie, "Breaking Away". The team in the movie is based on the 1962 Phi Kappa Psi Little 500 champions. So apparently other Americans were interested in racing much earlier. But even in 1979 the feeling rang true - professional cycling was for Europeans. Oh sure, there were a few Americans who ventured overseas to race. But I didn't recognize their names: Jack Simes III (who was the son and grandson of pro racers), David Chauner, Audrey McElmury, Sheila Young, Mike Neel, and Jonathan Boyer.

In 1980, we watched the Winter Olympics on ABC's Wide World of Sports. There was no cycling. But Eric Heiden won an unprecedented five gold medals in speed skating. Instant hero. Speed skaters ride bikes in the summer for cross-training. After winning Olympic gold at age 21, Heiden hung up his skates and switched over to cycling – which he had been doing all along, just not racing professionally. I clearly remember the image of Eric Heiden on a bike with his massive, speed-skater build – even though I never saw him race. (That image was recalled when Bo Jackson, another famous multi-sport athlete, said “when’s that Tour de France thing?”) Whatever image I subconsciously had of a thin little European bike racer was suddenly transformed in a big, strong American-style superstar. Now, that was cool! However, cycling in America needed time to evolve and I needed to spend a few years in college.

Heiden’s friend, former speed skating coach and bike racer, Jim Ochowicz, had managed Eric and his sister in the Olympics and thus started a career in sports management. They raced on velodromes in the fall of 1980. “It was raining,” recalls Ochowicz, “and we were sheltering in the barn there. I said to Eric I had this idea to create a pro cycling team like they had in Europe, with a sponsor that was the name of the team, along with full-time managers, mechanics and soigneurs.” With Heiden’s fame, they were able to get sponsorship from 7-Eleven and Ochowicz was able to recruit some professional cyclists who had been competing in Europe.

By the time the 7-Eleven team was founded in 1981, amateur road racing was fully established in North America. But to race professionally, Americans like Boyer, Greg LeMond, Mike Neel, George Mount and John Eustice had to cross the Atlantic to earn places on European squads. By 1983, LeMond had captured his first world championship. His celebrity vaulted in 1986 when he became the first American to win the Tour de France. He quickly became America's first cycling superstar. In 1986, I was graduating college and cycling was fully entrenched in America.

My girlfriend at the time had a brand new Fuji and I bought a used Raleigh. We never actually rode together. But I did many local organized rides, typically 50 miles or less. I was training for the DALMAC ride from Lansing, Michigan to the Mackinac Bridge. On the third of three days, I did my very first century. Neither relationship lasted, however.

A few years later, now in California, I renewed my interest in cycling to help my future wife as she trained for a marathon. We got married; I stopped cycling …until she started cycling. Mostly out of couch-potato-guilt, I started cycling again. And this time I caught the addiction.

In some future post, I'll explain how I got from there to sitting on a train talking to George Mount about him training for professional racing in Europe.

So in case you missed it, why cycling?

• Because the safe-but-slightly-wild Schwinn Sting-Ray had been born when I was born. And that meant its popularity bread a slew of clones and enough used ones so that poor little country boys like me could have a bike to fit their safe-but-slightly-wild sixties childhood.

• Because of Wide World of Sports broadcasting the Tour de France in 1975 and "Breaking Away" hitting theaters in 1979. I didn’t relate to the main character, the Midwestern bike racer trying to fit in with the Italians. I related to the “cutters” wearing Converse All-Stars and wearing welding gloves and T-shirts. No lycra for me back then.

• And because a hulking, world-beating, Olympic speed-skater switched sports and his fame lifted professional cycling to the American consciousness. Enough so, that another Wisconsin speed-skater could launch the very first American professional cycling team to compete against the Europeans (on Wide World of Sports) – and win.

• Eric Heiden. Not so much Greg LeMond, but certainly he was important. Let’s not talk about Lance.

• And because I needed some heart-healthy hobby to make sure I could grow old with my wife. For love.