Riding Up the Coast
It was a classic NorCal morning with the fog burning off, exposing the amazing seascapes on the western side of Highway 1 in Santa Cruz. I was pumped and ready for what would be the longest and most beautiful training rides I had done. The first ten miles felt like three with so much to take in visually as we rode up the coastline. Highway 1 has a lot of slow rollers—that test your morning legs. After about 13 miles—we broke off to the right on a tiny road.



The road took us back into the wind swept hills of Santa Cruz. You could smell the mixture of the sea air and eucalyptus tree while you rode down the middle of this little traveled road in what looked like surroundings of the South of France. (Not that I have been—but that is what I imagined it would be like.)

Enjoying the ride, the company of my teammates and surroundings immensely—I was caught off guard by a loud squeaking noise coming from another teammate’s bike. It sounded like big trouble, so I slowed down to see what was making the loud high-pitch squeal. As I slowed down to get behind her—I realized it was my bike making that annoying noise. Heading straight into the big climb of the day—I shifted to my smallest gear and started to concentrate on attacking the hill. With the noise gone and a huge climb ahead of me—I just focused on pushing each pedal until I made it up the hill.

Top of the Hill With Ed and Cheryl

Excited to make it up the hill with a few of my peers—I had forgotten about the random squeak. That was until I started the descent. The sweet reward of climbing the hill was stolen by the return of high-pitched squeak coming from my bike. It was back and getting more pronounced. I made a left around the first “S” turn at about 22 mph and my bike felt like it was going to shake itself to pieces. I had to lock up both brakes to slow the momentum and make it to the bottom of the hill in one piece. At the bottom of the hill—it did not take long to figure out what went wrong. My back wheel was shaped like an egg and was scrapping against the top of my seat stays (part of the frame just below the seat). Going up the hill—my wheel was going too slow to create the friction needed to create the high pitch squeak of rubber hitting steel—however, going downhill it was deafening.

With no cell phone coverage—I decided to ride the next 3 miles to the next supported rest stop. An idea my right knee did not approve of as it became very grueling with the wheel dragging against the frame. With my wobbling back wheel, I rolled slowly into the rest stop at mile 20—I was done for the day.

For the first time in my training—I had to be “SAG’ed” back by a support vehicle. Getting SAGed is a one of the most disgraceful things that can happen to you on the bike. Everyone assumes that the ride beat you that day. Other cyclists never presume it was a mechanical problem that laid you up. Like my back wheel—I was crushed that I did not get to finish what was in the makings of one of the best rides of the seasons. The upside is—it did not happen at Tahoe and there is enough time to get a new back wheel that is stronger.

As they shuttled me back—I thought to myself how thankful I am for the volunteers who provide support to riders like me in times of need. However, I could not stop thinking about how much I much rather be out there pushing my weight up and down Highway 1. The ride back to my truck at 65 mph felt like it took forever—while the time on my bicycle going 15 mph went by in a flash.

Life is moving too fast—get out on the road, dirt path, or sandy trail and slow your life down. Have a great holiday weekend.