Prepping for 8 Hours of Labor, 2013. Grazing with a purpose. Or, why I love looped races.

 

 

 

 

8 Hours of Labor, 2010

 

 

A little more than 24 hours until the 8 Hour.  This one has been on my list all year.  For the last couple years, in fact.  And hooray!  We are finally going to get to go again.

 

It's Friday, a designated rest day.  Too busy to ride anyway.  Food prep is underway.  Fruit/protein bars all made.  Sushi rice bars cooling, waiting to be cut. 

 

 

 OK, I confess.  I used chocolate cheerios in the protein bars.

Seemed like a good idea at the time.

After tasting...

...definitely a good idea! 

 

  

Ready to wrap. 

 

 

Tomorrow, I'll pack Perpetuum and Gatorade, portioned into zip loc bags.  A bottle of Endurolyte capsules.  Lots of water for mixing, a few cokes for later in the day.  Protein balls, rice bars, V-8.  A jar of big, green olives.  (Oh yes, and at Popeye's request, an emergency supply of peanut butter and jelly.)

 

A nice balance of sugar and salt, protein and carbs.  That ought to see us through. 

 

The cooler, the canopy, and a couple of lawn chairs, we'll be all set.

 

Sounds more like a picnic than a race so far, doesn't it?  Well, in some ways that's exactly what it is.  Grazing with a purpose.  (Or grazing with an excuse, however you want to look at it.)

 

I love the 8 hour!    

 

The venue is San Felasco.  Easy, shady, singletrack.     

 

The race is 8 hours.  9-5.  No getting up before dawn.  No lights to recharge.  No lights required at all!  Setting up, riding, taking down - all in daylight.   Like a vacation, right?

 

You get to bring a cooler.  And a lawn chair.  The course is a ten mile loop, with a start/finish chute in an open field.  Park alongside the loop.  Set up your canopy.  Stop in for drinks and food (or a sit in your chair) every ten miles, as needed.

 

You can go solo or grab some teammates.  See how many loops you can do before 5 o'clock.  How simple is that?

 

OK, so we should probably check the Stan's and lube the bikes too, but I will tell you why I pay so much attention to the food.  

 

I'm just not that fit.  And, much as I love it, I am just not that good on a mountain bike.  There aren't many people whom I can outride.  But sometimes, if I play it just right, I can outlast 'em.  Well, some of 'em anyway.

 

In order to ride for 8 hours, fitness is a good thing.  But with loops, it's not actually that essential.  You can alternate loops with a teammate, or if you're solo, simply quit and sit down when you've had enough.  You're never more than ten miles from home base.

 

A huge part of endurance is to keep the food and fluids coming.  Pacing yourself on the bike might be obvious, but pacing yourself with what you ingest is just as important.  If you screw up hydration or nutrition, you are screwed no matter how fit you are.  Much more screwed than if you simply get tired and have to take the pace down a notch.

 

That said, I haven't been on the mountain bike this year for anything longer than the last Tour de Felasco.   So we'll see how my theory holds up.  I know I am as likely to forget to refill a camelback as I am to remember, so I figure I'd have a fifty/fifty shot at hanging in for 8 hours, even if I were sufficiently trained.

 

But so what?  San Felasco is a great trail to ride for a day.  There are deer and trees, trolls and hills, and sights to see pretty much anywhere you look.   

 

 

 

 

 

 

  

The guy in the polka dots for instance, who was set up next to us in 2010.  Yes, he made the outfit himself.  And yes, it was hard not to notice as he passed me at least three times at that race.  Not only was he the overall winner that day, he was obviously way good at sewing too.  Always something to strive for, right?

  

Something else to strive for at the end of the day. 

 

All dirt.  No blood.     

 

 Popeye's finishing look.

 

 

  

And no bonking. 

 

Wish us luck.  

8 Hours of Labor. Sept. 1, 2013  http://www.goneriding.com/index.php?option=com_content&view=article&id=693&Itemid=349

Recipe for Sushi Rice Bars

http://bikeeatsleeprepeat.blogspot.com/search/label/sushi%20rice%20bars

 

Recipe for Fruit/Protein Balls.  Use the second recipe in this post, not the first.  Scroll down to Distance Bites.  (Which is so true, especially if you don't eat right.)  http://bikeeatsleeprepeat.blogspot.com/search/label/Biking%20Bites

 

 

 

Super simple Wednesday lunch. Sockeye Salmon Burgers.

Am I the only one who is sad that most people seem to have gotten over publishing Facebook pictures of every meal they eat? 

But once in a while my true friends will make a point to tell me what they made for dinner. 

(Because they know that I am always interested in what's for dinner.)

Two separate emails yesterday, from two separate friends, mentioning two fantastic dinners.  One lobster, and the other steak!  Not too shabby for a Tuesday.  (OK, to be fair, they each had bona fide occasions to celebrate.)

Just the same, I was feeling a little sorry for us regular, non-celebrating folk on a regular, time-crunched, post-ride Tuesday night.  Even though we had a pretty awesome dinner ourselves.  Pan fried salmon, with mustard, lemon, and dill.

Confession time.  I am not a salmon fan, especially not farm-raised.  (And certainly not any salmon labeled so enticingly as "color enhanced through feed".) 

But, for a few weeks a year, Publix gets in fresh Sockeye Salmon from Alaska.  If you are going to eat salmon in Florida, July is the time to do it.

On Tuesdays, we usually get home sometime after 8pm.  Dinner by 9 is the norm.  And even the ever-hungry Popeye has a minimal appetite right after a super-hard, super-sweaty, summer Tuesday night ride.  Often half of any big dinner goes straight onto the Tupperware for another day.  Which is fine with me - because that ends up as easy lunch prep for me on Wednesday.  

 

 

 

Wednesday Lunch

Super Simple Sockeye Salmon Burgers

1 fillet (approximately 6-8 oz.) chilled, cooked salmon
1 egg
2 T. finely chopped onion
1 T. deli mustard
1 hard squeeze of lemon (about a tablespoon of lemon juice)
salt, pepper, dill  -  to taste
2 T. Italian style panko
1 T. grated Parmesan
1 -2 T. Mayo (optional)
light-tasting olive oil for frying

Makes 2-3 medium burgers.

Flake the cooked salmon into a bowl.  Add everything but the mayo and mix well. 

Mash the salmon up as much or as little as you like.  I like to leave it a little lumpy, kind of the same way I like crab cakes.  But if you like a finer texture (or maybe you just had a bad day), then by all means, mash away.

Here's where the mayo comes in.  I experimented with it both ways: stirring mayo into the mixture, and also leaving it out for a few less calories. 

I liked the salmon burger without the mayo a little better.  But  then, I like meaty-chunky-crispy.  If you like a smoother, more paste-like texture, add the mayo, and mash it fine before pan-frying.

Form the mixture into 2-3 burgers.  Fry lightly in a skillet with a bit of light olive oil, 2-4 minutes on a side. 

 

2 small burgers without mayo, at top.

One larger burger with mayo added, at bottom. 

Hard to tell any difference until you taste them.

 

 

Because all the ingredients are already cooked except the egg, which cooks fast, you really don't need to cook it long.   I like mine dark-brown/crispy, so tend to let it go a little longer than strictly necessary to cook it through.

That's it.  Make a drizzle of equal parts hummus and lemon juice and serve it with a handful of last night's leftover salad. 
 

Two half-burgers for my taste test.

And yes, I went back for seconds.

 

Best Wednesday lunch all week. 

No color enhancement necessary.

Slow Cooker Grilled Ribs. (Ribs according to Kurt)

One of the regulars (OK, the only regular at that point) from the Beer Can Scramble mentioned cooking ribs over the Memorial Day weekend.

Oooo.  Ribs. 

I am impressed.   

I have never once attempted ribs. 

Mainly because every recipe I have ever seen for them starts with about two hours of oven time.  I love my new kitchen, but I am way too distractable to have something going on there for two whole hours.  (Especially something that contributes heat to the house in the summertime.)

Then he REALLY got my attention. "Oh, it's easy in the slow cooker." 

Slow cooker!  For ribs?  Why didn't I think of that?

Where have these been all my life?

We still had 17 miles of street riding to get home from the trail.  In the time it took for Popeye to make a last quick trip into the bushes, Kurt told me the entire recipe, standing over our bikes at the trailhead.

And wouldn't you know?   Publix had a sale on ribs the very next day.   While I still remembered the whole recipe!  (Well almost the whole recipe.) 

It was my kind of recipe, after all.

 

Slow Cooker Grilled Ribs.

Ribs (in this case, pork spareribs, but use any ribs you like)

Rub  (whatever kind you like)

Vinegar

Brown Sugar

BBQ sauce (whatever kind you like)


Cut the ribs into whatever portion sizes you like. 

Put on any rub that you like.  

(I totally forgot this step and had to fish them out of the pot and find something to use for rub, since I didn't have any store bought rub around.  I ended up using salt and pepper and a bit of chili powder.  Which was ok for me, but next time I will try to concoct something spicier for Popeye.)

OK, ribs all rubbed, THEN put them in the pot. 

Add a couple of glugs of vinegar, I think he said, and a couple spoonfuls of brown sugar. 

Glugs of vinegar, sure.  No problem. 

"Spoonfuls?" I ask, in a quick email to Kurt.  "Like tablespoons?" 

The answer comes back immediately.  It wasn't spoonfuls, it was "blobs". 

Oh yeah, that's right.  Blobs.

3 blobs of brown sugar

Quoting Kurt: "In this case a blob is the precise amount you get when you pull out a cereal spoon from the drawer and heap it full".

Rub, vinegar, sugar.  Nothing else?  No water or anything?

Nope, that's all you need. 

The complicated part was that Kurt has a programmable slow cooker and I don't.  So the two hours low, two hours high, and two hours low again was sort of lost on me.  I totally forgot to come back and reset the cooker.  The ribs, abandoned, stayed on low all day. 

So.  9 hours on low.  (Hmmm, looking pretty good in there...)

Then!  Take em out.  Throw 'em on the grill for a few minutes per side, plastered with your favorite BBQ sauce.

Time to e...  nom nom nom nom...

OMG.  Definitely my kind of recipe.

 

 

 

The Beer Can Scramble

Tuesday is the only day of the week that I regret giving up the paceline. 

It's not that I miss the road bike that much - not at all, actually.  What is difficult about Tuesday is riding alone.  Any other day of the week it's fine to be solo, but Tuesdays, when nearly everyone else I know has taken to the pavement of Palm Bay...    

Still.  I am stubborn.  I am no longer a roadie, dammit.  But what is a mountain bike aficionado to do?  Especially on a Tuesday?

OK, so create a new ride.  A fun ride.  A ride to bring together those rugged individualistic few who prefer their cycling dark and dirty.  

But how to attract mountain bikers when you live in a town flat as a pancake?  There's only one way I can think of.  

Beer. 

Either lots of beer.  (Not a good idea for a week night.) 

Or free beer.  

Although I do not own a Stand Up Paddleboard, I wish I did.  Not because they look like fun.  Seriously.  They have got to be more fun than they look. 

No, I wish I owned a SUP because of the Beer Can Races.   

According to the facebook page, the paddlers meet at the causeway on Wednesday night.  Each one brings a beer for the pot.  Racing ensues. Winner takes home the pot. 

What an excellent idea!  

But would the more eclectic off road crowd go for a race?  And certainly no mountain biker I know is interested in watching their beer go home with someone else.  

But still, it's such an awesome idea... 

How about... a beer can race in reverse?  A race where everybody wins.  And everybody goes home happy.  (Although some might go home a little happier than others.) 

I run the idea by Popeye and he instantly comes up with the perfect name.

The Beer Can Scramble

Tuesdays.  6PM  Brook Hollow Trailhead.

Bring a beer for the cooler, as good or as awful as you like.  Last guy in gets last pick.


And speaking of last, just one last thought... 

Could pay to be nice. 

After all, the beer you get could be your own.

The arrival of Lady Liberte.

If it weren't bad luck to change a boat's name, I would change this one to Plain Jane.

Catalina 22.  A dime a dozen.  Boats just like her on any canal around.  White hull, white sails, black sailcover.   A clorox bottle with a mast and a swing keel. 

In other words, the perfect boat!

In fact, if she is distinctive in any way, it is that she is not too rough.   And since it's been raining all day, it's easy to tell that the cabin is completely dry.  I know.  Hard to believe, right?  So I waited for the next burst of rain and looked again.

  

See what I mean?  Not too shabby for a 1982.  Literally.  Most boats this age have been rode hard and put up wet.  I suspect this one has too.  But she seems OK in spite of it. 

Which, of course, means she is going to be our kind of boat.

Looks awfully little down there, doesn't she? 

No galley, no roller furling, not even a porta potty.   

But we've got big plans. 

And, for now, a bucket.

Hammerhead Report - Interruption by Hit and Run

No, the hit and run wasn't at the Hammerhead 100.

The hit and run was the Tuesday after the Hammerhead.  The day I started to write a blog post about the Hammerhead.  

This was the view in my kitchen when I walked in from my ride that Tuesday night.


                                              

 
I think Popeye is very lucky to be standing in the kitchen at all.

Rectangular whack on the calf from the hit of the passing boat trailer.   Road rash - leg, hip, shoulder, knuckles and elbow - from the immediate slam to the pavement.  Tattered jersey.  And shorts? What shorts? They are just plain gone on one side, clear up to the waistband.

The broken helmet was disturbing.   As was the headache.   And his pretty much constant consumption of Advil for the next couple weeks.

But most disturbing of all, is that a hit and run, with multiple witnesses, could be completely dismissed at the apparent whim of law enforcement.  

Basically the officer talked with the driver down the road and decided, since there was no damage to the boat trailer, there was no proof that it hit Popeye at all. 

I tell you what.  I was mad, and I wasn't even there. 

How about some flesh and blood proof? 

But then, who feels up to arguing with the police when you're standing on the side of the road with your shorts half gone, complete with road rash and the headache of your life.  I bet it feels like - well, like you barely have a leg to stand on, right?

It took several days, and a whole lot of calls and emails from witnesses (thank you so much to them!), but the FHP officer did decide to investigate further and issue a ticket after all.  Not for hit and run, and nothing to do with leaving three feet to pass.  As far as I can figure out it amounts to some sort of reckless driving.

Meanwhile, the headache's gone and the Advil supply has been replenished for next time.

Road rash takes a while to heal. 

Then comes the itchy stage...  

There ought to be a ticket just for that alone.   Yowser.




   

Weighing in. No help from the Rabbit.

"Coffee, tea, water, gum.  Coffee, tea, water, gum."

I rode the Superfly over three hours on Tuesday.  And hit my planned calorie range dead center. 

So, what happened when I stepped on the scale the next morning? 

I gained a pound.  That's what. 

That is how it happened that the words "Rabbit, Rabbit" weren't the first words out of my mouth on May 1st.  No wishes-come-true for me this month.

This lose-a-few undertaking is most frustrating. 

So complex. 

And yet so simple.

Back on March 1st, I decided to give myself ninety days.  Make super-good food choices.  Limit amounts, but not too limited.  Address any emotional issues.  Exercise.  See what happens. 

That's really all there is to it.  Right? 

Right.

Really.  That's all there is to it.  No magic wishes required.

In theory, anyway. 

But trust me, if I had a wish right now, I'd use it.  

I take a look through the new Kindle Fire.  Since Christmas day,  I have read 6 books about losing weight.  There is 1 more, half finished, and 2 more in the queue, for a total of 9.   

"Finished being Fat"   Betsy Schow

"...Then Just Stay Fat"  Shannon Sorrels  (Some excellent tough love here!)

"Fat Chick"  Lorraine Duffy Merkl

"Suddenly Skinny"  Freya Taylor

"The Amazing Adventures of Dietgirl"  Shauna Reid

"Half-Assed, a weight loss memoir."  Jennette Fulda

"Lucy Wagner Gets in Shape."  Claire Matthews

"Toxic Fat"  Barry Sears, PhD

"A Week in the Zone"  Barry Sears, PhD


A little bit of science, and a whole lot of heartache and courage.

Suddenly, I plop the Kindle down on the table.  I hop up from the computer to go look in the refrigerator. 

I take out plastic containers of salad and leftover turkey from last night's dinner and set them on the counter. 

I look at my watch.  It is 9:43 in the morning. 

I put the leftovers back. 

With the refrigerator door safely closed again, I repeat to myself, 

"Coffee, tea, water, gum."

The leftovers can wait for a couple hours.  I put water on for tea and sit back down.

The battle was short and decisive. This time.

This sure is one stubborn behavior.  Every day, every single freakin' day, for sixty days now.  If I am near the refrigerator, I have to open it up and look.   

Sixty days.  Same behavior.  Harmless refrigerator gazing.

I guess it's harmless.  It's certainly a tad on the compulsive side to feel comfortable with it, though.

Mostly I just gaze, then shut the door and go back about my business.  Sometimes, like this morning, I go so far as to take something out.  And then I put it back. 

In the last sixty days, I have very rarely eaten anything as a result of these forays.  

I have no explanation for this behavior.  A need to be sure the food is still there?  Or more likely, seeking escape from household chores.  But an escape from the fun stuff too - like reading an email or writing a blog post?  Does that make sense? 

Nope.  It's just weird.

I reach for my adorable pink owl cup, take a sip of steaming Plantation Mint tea, and look back at the list of fat chick book titles.  Most were funny.  Amusing and heart wrenching at the same time.  A couple were actually helpful tough-love type pep talks.  One was oh so young and way candy coated.   One of them I don't even remember reading, but the setting was left on the end page, so I must have.  

Every single one of them glued me to a chair for a good chunk of time, though.  (Except when I was jumping up to pad into the kitchen, of course.)

OK, so for the last thirty days of this endeavour, the diet books are going the way of desserts.  On hiatus.

I'm back on my own here.  No amusing anecdotes.  No magic wishes.  Just me. 

Me.  And some coffee, tea, water, or gum.


PS   I also thought this article from Outside magazine was pretty ground breaking:
 http://www.outsideonline.com/fitness/Your-Fat-Has-a-Brain.html