My First and Second Half-Centuries

I completed my first half-century last Friday.  No, it wasn't my 50th birthday; I completed my first 50-mile bike ride on a course that took us down Wasatch Boulevard to Sandy, then further south into Draper, then up South Mountain - the mountain that rises at the south end of the valley.  The above picture was taken from close to where we turned around to head back north (looking north out over the Salt Lake Valley).

The day hadn't started out auspiciously.  I fell again while taking a very slow turn too sharply, landing hard on my hip and leg and scraping up my calf pretty good.  It happened just yards away from the house while I was waiting for Mark.  It was stupid.  More than a physical injury (which I am still nursing), it was a psychological blow before I even set out on my first 50-mile ride.  

I eventually got over it.  Then Mark had a flat, which took a while to change.  Then we looked for and found a bike store in Draper where he could make sure his air pressure was what it was supposed to be, then we continued on our way south.

Fortunately, I had no near death experiences with soccer moms on this ride.  We road through Draper to South Mountain, then began our ascent.  Our goal had been to get all the way to the top, which would have made 25 miles.  But when about 2.5 miles from the top, we were confronted with a long, winding, steep ascent that was psychologically too much for me to take at that point.  So we turned around, determining to make up the mileage on the route back.

This graph tells the story of the ascent up Traverse Ridge Road.  We climbed about 800 feet in a little over two miles.
If we had continued to the top, we would have climbed another 700 feet in about 2.5 miles.

A Google Earth shot showing what lay before us at our turn-around point

We then cycled down a different way, past the Mormon Draper Temple, then hooking up with the same route we had taken on the way south.  Things went fairly well until we decided to backtrack along Wasatch Boulevard to make up for the mileage we had lost by not completing the ascent.  We faced a very stiff south wind, and those miles were some of the most difficult I had faced since beginning cycling.  I was never so happy as to reach home after a ride as I was that day.  But -- I had completed my first half century!

Saturday was a rest day, as I had the kids.  On Sunday, we rode to the mouth of Little Cottonwood Canyon, then up for 2.5 miles.  This ride up Little Cottonwood is known for being the most difficult in the Salt Lake area because of the grade of the ascent, and we are taking it in chunks.

Again, this elevation graph tells the story.  We climbed about 900 feet in 2.5 miles.
The rest of the way up Little Cottonwood would be more of the same; it's like that all the way to the top.

We experienced a first on our way down:  we got separated.  Mark is comfortable letting loose down descents; he is an experienced cyclist and is familiar with the routes.  I, on the other hand, am neither and I have not yet attained a level of comfort with speeding down a canyon.  As a result, by the time I reached the mouth of the canyon, Mark was nowhere in sight.  

I assumed he had veered to the left at the mouth, which has been our typical route; he, however, had veered to the right.  We had no way to contact each other, I having forgotten my phone that day and he not having brought his.  It was some time before I realized what had happened, so I just decided to complete the loop, assuming that he would be waiting for me where our two routes would intersect.  He wasn't.

We had never discussed what we would do in such a situation - which has now been remedied.  I rode on north for a ways, then stopped for a few minutes.  Then continued, then stopped and waited.  At that point, I decided to just cycle on home.  Mark, as it turns out, had waited at the spot where I assumed he would be, but when I didn't show up, he backtracked back to the mouth of the canyon, assuming that I had perhaps had a flat.  He then rode up the canyon a ways and, not finding me, eventually decided to head for home.

Meanwhile, I arrived home and saw that Mark wasn't there.  I decided to get in the car and go back and look for him.  I finally met up with him just north of the mouth of Big Cottonwood Canyon.  As I pulled up beside him, I wondered if he might be annoyed at what had happened.  But as soon as I rolled my window down, he looked over, smiled and said, "I misplaced you!"  That's Mark.

Yesterday, we completed my second half-century, though it was very different from the first.  Mark had to make a hospice home visit in Magna, which is on the west side of the valley, so he suggested we ride the Legacy Parkway trail - a paved trail that skirts the Great Salt Lake in southern Davis County (north of Salt Lake) for about 12 miles.  It is very flat and frankly is boring, but it gave us an opportunity to talk as we didn't have to worry about cars.  

We had read that the trail was 14 miles; it wasn't.  So we decided, once we rode back to our place of beginning, to continue south on the Jordan River trail, which winds its way along the small Jordan River into the heart of Salt Lake's western neighborhoods.  

Legacy Parkway Trail

Unfortunately, the quality of the pavement on the trail quickly deteriorated once we got into Salt Lake proper, and we finally decided to turn around and head back north.  We had 14 miles to go once we arrived back at the trailhead where our truck was parked, so we headed back north on the Legacy Trail for seven miles, then turned around to complete the 50 miles - a point I reached just outside the port-a-potty, which was extremely fortuitous - thus finishing my second half-century.

Last night, we went to a neighborhood picnic.  We had picked up Nathan in Bountiful after our bike ride so that he could go and meet some of the neighbors.  (I had hoped that the Quads would also be able to go so that they could meet more of the neighborhood kids, but it didn't work out.)  Nathan was able to talk to a number of the neighbors, who were quite friendly and made an effort to engage him in conversation, which I appreciated.  

For example, he met Dallas and his dad, active Mormons who like to go dirt-biking in the west desert; they are going to take Nathan with them on their next trip.  He also met Nate next door who played rugby for the University of Utah, as well as Nate's brother-in-law, Gareth, a South African native who has coached rugby at several high schools and now coaches for the U of U team.  Nathan has expressed an interest in rugby, and it was neat for him to be able to talk to these guys who were obviously very into it.  

Then there was our next-door neighbor, Byron the (Mormon) bishop, who was very friendly and invited Nathan to come to the ward here if he is ever here on Sunday mornings.

I also had an opportunity to meet more of the neighbors.  I sat and chatted for 10 minutes or so with Kathy, whose husband is a lawyer and, I suspect, a son of an apostle of the Mormon Church who died about 10 years ago.  I would assume that the Fausts are in the late 50's.  She described their recent trip to Peru and how fascinating it had been.  She asked about my tan, and that led to a discussion of our Maui trip and our cycling in preparation for our trip in September.  

I mention their age because Gareth (mentioned above, probably in his late 20's) came up to talk to me because he is currently studying for the bar exam, having just graduated from law school, and after shaking my hand he turned to Kathy and said, "And is this your mother?"  Ooops.  Kathy was very graceful.  I was secretly flattered.