Showing posts with label Ludwig. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Ludwig. Show all posts

03 January 2012

What a pain!

It is now three months since I last touched my bikes. As I reported previously (http://positivo-espresso.blogspot.com/2011/10/three-years.html) strong back pain has changed my life in an unexpected way. Here is the full story of what has happened and what I have done about it.

The morning after an exceptionally hard ride in mid August (http://connect.garmin.com/activity/106388342 and http://vlaamsewielrenner.blogspot.com/2011/08/manfred-von-rindomeisteradded-two-new.html), I woke up with a slight but persistent pain in my lower back. I thought I must have slept particularly deep after such an exhausting ride, and my muscles must have relaxed so much that a disk had slipped a bit. This happened to me on occasions many years ago, and the pain always disappeared after some days or weeks.

Alas, this was not the case this time. Worse, I noticed that on subsequent rides my usual back pain while riding got worse, requiring me to take more frequent breaks to relax my back. A longer ride in Austria (http://connect.garmin.com/activity/113853004) was particularly painful and I remember being happy that I was back in the hotel after what was a mere 160km and not even 2,000m of climbing - laughable by my standards. The much harder aluminium bike I ride in Germany and Austria was not kind on my back, even on well paved roads.

I managed to complete four more really tough rides back in Japan, despite the pain. My last ride on 1 October was a rather easy one, except for the fact that I did Jinba-san partly by bike, partly pushing my bike, to the utter surprise of all hikers.

At some point during the first week of October, the back pain increased significantly, and it became worse every day. It was so bad that I knew immediately something was really wrong and I had to get an MRI done. I went to the closest orthopaedic clinic with an MRI, and after a short negotiation I was indeed able to get the MRI done right away.

The doctor glanced at the images on his screen for a few seconds, mumbled hernia and said this was to be expected with age and would happen more and more often.


The MRI image indeed showed some protrusion of two disks, similar to what I had ten years ago. Only back then the pain had developed more slowly over time, and was of a more bearable nature.

He prescribed me a few days worth of Mohrus (ketoprofen) tape and handed me a few leaflets explaining how to do exercises to strengthen my back muscles once I'm better. In the meantime, he wanted me to come back every few days for "rehabilitation" exercises, i.e. electric treatment, massage etc.

Tape and electric treatment helped a bit, but not for long. The following week the pain kept increasing to unbearable levels. Always the left side of the back and right down to the left knee. The pain became so strong I could no longer walk properly.

I went back to the doctor, several times. I got his favorite NSAID pain killer (Loxonin = loxoprofen), more tape, more electric treatments. He refused to give me PPIs to protect my stomach as he claimed the insurance claims bureau would reject reimbursement and would even blacklist him for all his claims (a totally absurd claim, but one that is made frequently by Japanese orthopaedists who stopped learning anything new about their field 20 or more years ago). I had to take my own omeprazole pills which I had bought in the US over the counter, just in case.

Overall, he showed little sympathy with me for my pain, belittling it as normal. When I asked for an epidural injection, he claimed I was not in the right condition for such a treatment. Another absurd claim, which only proved he was both clueless and wanted to avoid doing anything that would take more than 30 seconds of his time or refer me to another doctor and thus lose me as a source of income.

On another day of intense pain that kept me away from sitting down and mustering enough concentration for work, I had enough and went to another orthopaedist close to my office. He was a lot more understanding and willing to take the time to discuss treatment options and prescribe a couple of different pain killers for me to try out, each in sufficient quantity so I did not have to come back just 2-3 days later. I had no difficulty getting a PPI (lanzoprazole) prescribed either. He also offered to do an epidural injection, though ideally only a few days later at his own practice (he was working only one afternoon at the clinic I had chosen).

I tried out Lyrica but it made me feel so bad that I had to stop taking it after just two doses. I was back on a combination of two ketoprofen or loxoprofen patches per day, combined with Celecox (celecoxib) and lanzoprazole. Eventually, I managed to convince him to write his very first script for Nexium, the most effective PPI which had launched only a few weeks earlier in Japan (many years after the rest of the world).

In the meantime, I had contacted an uncle of mine in Germany who himself is a hospital-based orthopaedist specialising on the lower back (what luck!). He had already advised me ten years ago on my first bout of hernia. I sent him the MRI and X-ray images which I had bought of the clinic and eventually managed to speak to him by phone. He had uploaded the images into their hospital system and was impressed by their quality.

He quite categorically denied that I had hernia. Some protrusion was normal for one third of people of my age and my type of pain did not fit the pain caused by a disk pushing onto the spinal nerve. (And indeed, it was very different from what I had experienced ten years ago.)

Instead, he suggested that one or two disks may have ruptured. Not only did my pain symptoms point to discogenic pain, but the images also showed so-called high-intensity zones (HIZs) at the edge of two of the disks, and these are normally an indication of rupture.

Normally, disks do not contain nerves, so a rapture should not be felt. In my case, nerves may have grown into the disk(s) - perhaps because of the frequent and prolonged pressure to which they were subjected when I was riding road bikes?

The left-hand image shows a HIZ at the left side of disk L4/5. This would fit the fact that I have strong pain on the left side of my back, going down into my leg, but not beyond the knee.

The second image here shows a HIZ at the back-side of the L3/4 disk. This led at least me to hypothesise that this was the disk that ruptured already in August.

My uncle suggested I should get three epidural injections, sequenced a few days apart. This might both help me to alleviate the strong pain, and also serve as a further diagnostic tool.

I had these done at the second doctor. In case of hernia, injecting a combination of a local anaesthetic (10ml 5% Xylocaine = lidocaine) and a cortisone = steroid (3.3ml dexamethasone) works wonders. The anaesthetic takes away the pain right away, and the steroid takes away the inflammation which may then give pain relief for many weeks or even months.

In my case, initially nothing happened other the skin around my bottom becoming slightly numb. The pain persisted unabated. A few hours later the steroid started working, on my entire body. The back pain went down to much more bearable levels, but I also experienced the typical side effects of too much adrenaline, just like after a very long bike ride: headache, dryness, racing heart etc.

The doctor was puzzled by this, but to me it was already clear that these injections could not have a better effect, as the epidural channel was not connected to the real source of the pain: a raptured disk.

I went back for the second and third injections because they provided still some relief and my uncle had suggested to be persistent. By the third injection, however, I felt rather tense about these injections as they were somewhat painful without the use of a local anaesthetic and dangerous without proper anti-sceptic cleaning of my lower back (an infection in the spine would be disastrous). This probably caused the doctor to pass the needle into my bone rather than the epidural channel and I continued to feel the pain from this mistake for many weeks.

By this time, I had agreed with my uncle what the next steps should be. He said I should get discography done to confirm the hypothesis about the disk raptures and confirm which of the two disks was the real problem.

Discography is nicely described in this short video: http://www.spine-health.com/video/discography-video-non-surgical-back-pain-diagnostic-procedure. This intervention helps to identify which disc, if any, is causing the pain, and why.

If these interventions then confirmed the hypothesis, I should undergo intradiscal electrothermal annuloplasty = IDET, described nicely here: http://www.spine-health.com/video/idet-interactive-video. By literally boiling the painful disc, nerves that have grown into the disc are meant to be destroyed and proteins of the disc are meant to be changed which in turn should lead to some kind of regeneration of the disc. Nobody seems to know how this actually works - but in about half of the cases it is effective.

I asked the Japanese doctor what about doing discography. He reluctantly admitted that was a possibility, but said it would require me going to a hospital and they would then likely want to put me under the knife which he thought was the wrong answer.

Rather than taking more chances and arguing my way through Japanese medicine, I decided it was much easier to put myself into the good care of my uncle - or rather his boss, the medical director of a hospital division specializing in "conservative and operative spinal therapy", as my uncle didn't want to take responsibility for treating relatives and friends.

After some back and forth on the dates and me having to cancel some professional commitments, I flew to Germany in mid November. My uncle and aunt took good care of me and until the actual hospitalization, I stayed two nights with them.

I spent the first morning getting checked up and signed into the hospital, and prepaying for the interventions to come. I received a lot of attention and everybody was exceedingly nice to me - quite a difference from visiting a hospital in Japan where everything works like in a factory (for better and worse). The afternoon I was free to do some sightseeing in this beautiful town of Germany which I had never properly visited before.

The next morning my uncle drove me into the hospital for a 6:30am start. The medical director came by for a quick check-in. This was the first time for me to meet him - up to then my uncle and other younger doctors had done all the preparations. Shortly after 7:00am I was being rolled into the operating room.

It took at least half an hour to get the room prepared (so much again for German efficiency!) - plenty of time for me lying on the operating table to chat with the nurses about my past life as a paramedic. I was nervous - pulse at 80, blood pressure at 140, despite the early hour. Still nothing as nervous as at the start of a cycling race when my pulse was typically at 100! I remembered to ask for a protective cover for my lower parts. Lots of x-rays would be taken during the intervention to help guide the needles being inserted into my disks.

The medical director started injecting a local anaesthetic into my right side of my lower back. Soon after he pushed the pretty thick needle through my skin. Actually, it isn't even a needle - there is no sharp tip, so it took some force to push it through my skin. From then on, he went subsequently deeper through many layers of tissue (8cm in total) to finally reach the first disk. The deeper he got, the more I would feel the advancing needle. Penetrating the disk took some force and was associated with quite some pain - itself an indication that the disk was not without issues.

Next he started pushing contrast media into the disk. If this disk was the cause of my pains, building up pressure inside the disk this way should produce the same pain I normally experience. Alas it did not. Only when 1.5ml was injected did I feel some pain - but not the same pain I normally have.

Needle out and a new needle into the next disk. He deliberately did not tell me in which sequence he was doing the disks as to avoid biasing my perceptions. However, I had already guessed he would have started with the lower of the two and now noticed that the next penetration was higher up. He had to admit defeat :)

Same procedure again, only this time it was harder to reach the disk and also to penetrate it. Not a great

feeling having someone basically poke a knife twice into your back!

Now only 0.7ml of contrast media already produced a lot of pain - though not really the same pain going into my leg that I normally experience. This led him to conclude that proceeding to the next intervention (IDET) was not indicated. He counselled that IDET was an irriversible procedure and he would recommend it only if discography had produced clearer results.

That was in some sense still a disappointment, because I had hoped for some kind of intervention that would finally stop this immense pain!

As with the previous disk, he completed the procedure by injecting a bit of a local anaesthetic into the disk, which would give me amazing relief from all the back pain for the next 16 hours or so (and thus also helped to reconfirm the source of my trouble).

I spent one night in the hospital recovering from the intervention which had swollen my back quite a bit - but took only half a day to disappear again.

The next morning, before leaving the hospital to spend the weekend with my parents, he gave me an epidural injection. Unlike in Japan, this one was masterly placed into the epidural channel just between my bad disks, local anaesthetic and proper disinfection included, done by the medical director without any assistance.

Alas, the effect was no different from the injections in Japan: no immediate relief, and only modest relief from the cortisone over the weekend.

The medical director and my uncle got together over the weekend to discuss my case. For some reason, the medical director hadn't remembered that all my pain was on the left side. When he realised it, all the pieces fell into place. The above X-ray images of the discography show that while the contrast media stayed inside the L3/4 disk, it escaped to the left from L4/5, indicating a completely ruptured disk. Moreover, as a result of the leak, it was not possible to build up the pressure needed to produce my normal back pain, so this explained the initially negative finding.

When I called my uncle Monday morning, he said I should come quickly for an IDET intervention, and not another epidural injection as initially planned.

I was in my hospital bed at 11am, awaiting to be pushed into the OP momentarily, but it eventually took another three hours and a short visit from the medical director before I was really there.

Similar setup as last time - only that I forgot to ask for the X-ray projection until it was too late!

Once again, the needle was inserted into my back and into my L4/5 disk. The first attempt to place the thermal catheder failed as it landed it the wrong place inside the disk (see the first image on the left). Pushing it in and pulling it out was no fun - a very peculiar pain inside my disk which I have never experienced before and hope to never experience again.

In the second attempt, the catheder reached the left-side of the disk. Now temperature was put onto the catheder, in steps up to 85 degrees. The disk became increasingly painful. I agreed to endure for as long as was necessary to achieve a good outcome. When it was over and I looked up, the timer showed 6:53 minutes.

The heat-related pain did not disappear after the catheder was gone, though injecting another round of local anaesthetic at least killed the normal back pain for the next 16 hours. During that time, the heat pain started subsiding, though not disappearing completely. That took another few weeks.

In the first few days after the intervention, I felt remarkably good, except for short bouts of minor heat pain in the disk. However, almost as

soon as I was back in Japan, did the back pain become stronger again. What a disappointment!

Fortunately it is not at the level it was before the intervention, which was truly unbearable. But it is not at a level at which I can be happy, and I am still dependent on taking NSAIDs every day because without them the pain swells back to bad levels.

The prospect of no more improvement makes me wonder what my future will look like: drug dependent until the rest of my life? Not a good prospect, considering the long-term side effects NSAIDs have (chance of earlier death), not even considering the prospect of never getting back onto a bike.

My uncle still thinks I may improve in a few months' time. And in the worst case? Well, he hasn't seen old people with discogenic pain - i.e. maybe I'm finally pain free in 20 years or so...

After six weeks of mandatory rest from exercise, I have started a careful programme of back exercises and walking/hiking. Let's see what this will bring - at a minimum some positive feelings!

* * *

Some final thoughts. Why did this happen to me? Did I overdo the cycling? No doctor wants to confirm, the logic being that many people cycle at least as hard as I did and they don't have their disks rupture, and most people with ruptured disks are not cyclists. Personally I still think that all the strains on my back while riding up to 13 hours a day leaning my body forward must have at least contributed to the problem. The back pain while riding was a warning sign, but as it always disappeared as soon as I got off the bike, I did not take it seriously - it was merely a big annoyance.

Was it perhaps the position on my bikes which was wrong? This is another possibility, as I preferred to sit relatively high and lean forward as much as possible, to gain leverage in my legs and be aerodynamic. To do what I did this felt perfect - except for the back pain. I did experiment with a somewhat lower saddle height, but this did not reduce the pain while riding, and when too low went into my knees. So I am not sure my fitting was poor. If I ever get into the position of riding again, I will of course have a proper bike fit done, just to be safe.

15 October 2011

Three years

On Thursday, it was three years to the day that I completed my first road bike day ride: http://positivo-espresso.blogspot.com/2008/10/izu-west-coast-cruising.html. A month earlier I had gone to the headquarter outlet of Canyon in Koblenz, Germany, and picked up my first road bike. On 13 October 2008, MOB finally found the time in his busy racing and training schedule to take me onto a weekday ride to Izu.

Little did I know back then that I would end up cycling at least once a week, become addicted of climbing mountains rather than staying in the flat, win a racing championship (more here:
http://positivo-espresso.blogspot.com/2010/01/championship-memoirs.html) and end up doing dusk to dawn rides, sometimes two to three days in a row.

In these three years, I cycled 37,275km: 11,800km in the first twelve months, 12,500 in the following 12 months, and 13,000km in the last twelve months. I did not keep a total tally of the altitude meters climbed, but it must be somewhere between 400,000 and 500,000 metres.

When I was deciding on what bike to buy, I was wondering whether a carbon bike would last more than 6,000km and then disintegrate. I took the risk - very naively. My Canyon carbon bike has clocked 27,300km by now, without anything more than normal wear and tear. I'm about to replace the break pads and wheels, as the breaking down the mountains has worn the rims a little thinner. Nonetheless the wheels are still perfectly usable and will move to my cheaper aluminium Canyon kept in Germany (which so far has seen a modest 3,800km).

The remaining 6,200km have been on my Red Bull cyclocross which has enabled me to expand my "discovery" of rindos (forest/mountain roads) to unpaved ones, and winter conditions.


I should celebrate the fact that I have been accident free throughout these three years. The worst that has happened to me is road rash when my cyclocross went sliding, twice, ironically both times on paved roads, once over moss, the second time over oil.

All this riding has also kept me fit and healthy. My cholesterol measurements have never been better, for example.

If only my back had not suffered. My first half a year on the bike was entirely trouble free. Since then, however, on every ride I would develop pain in my lower back. Depending on how long I was riding without break and how hard I was pushing, this pain would come earlier or later in the ride, and develop sometimes such intensity that I could not continue riding without a few minutes off the bike. On most rides, the pain from my back would far outdo any kind of exhaustion. What kept me still going was the wonderful scenery in the mountains, and the ambition to complete a big ride.

Since August of this year, things started to deterioate, steadily. My back would not only hurt on rides any more, but permanently. In early October, the pain became worse day by day, and it is now so bad my walking is impeded. MRIs show that two disks are squeezing the central nerve.

I must stay off the bike to avoid advancing things even more than they already do by themselves. Even if my back gets better again at some point, it is unlikely I will ever be trouble free. Passing a three-year anniversary in this state is not filling me with much joy. It is difficult enough to miss the best cycling weather in Japan, the mild and long autumn.

As my present state and a look into the future is filling me with pain, it perhaps wiser to look back and think of all the great moments I have had on the bike.

First of all there is all the great countryside I have had the chance to discover. Three years ago I largely ignorant of the geography surrounding Tokyo. When I landed in Japan 16 years ago, I would occasionally go on hikes in the Okutama, Jinba and Tanzawa mountains, but in later years hardly venture outside Tokyo on weekends.

Today I can proudly claim that there is basically no mountain road or pass in rural Tokyo, Kanagawa, Yamanashi and Saitama I do not know. I have also covered most of Gunma, Nagano and eastern Shizuoka. This includes the highest mountain pass in Japan - Norikura at 2,700m - which I have climbed three times.

It also includes unpaved roads, many officially closed roads and rindos, some hiking paths, a forbidden tunnel, and even an entire forbidden (but really stunning) valley somewhere in the Japanese Alps (I had to promise not to reveal more when I got caught).

I also have made occasional excursions beyond the Kanto-Joshinetsu area: Hokkaido, Kansai, Yamaguchi and Kyushu. There is still so much more to see of course.

In Europe, I have had a good time in southern Germany, England and the Tyrolian Alps in Austria. The "real" Alps are simply stunning, and also quite challenging, more for the variable weather than the slopes - though doing 1,200m up the Kitzbueheler Horn at an average of 13% (!!) is always a killer.

In these three years, I have on basically every ride "discovered" something new - never just repeated a previous route. The only exceptions have been group rides where I held back my urge to discover something new.


Apart from the mountains, there are idylic rural villages (almost anywhere), historic towns (notably Tsumago, Magome, Narai, Takayama), and great onsens.


The highlight has been ten days this year at the Kusatsu Music Academy where I was able to combine cycling (albeit far too little because of the bad weather) and music.

Then there is the great camaderie with other fellow cyclists. I owe to MOB a ride on his older bike in July 2008 which would get me all excited about buying my own bike and giving it a try. He then took me on many rides, teaching me all the basics about getting in and out of Tokyo, also about how to compete in the JCRC championships. We were a good match in me taking photos and him publishing entertaining ride reports.

After MOB left for Germany in Spring 2010, I felt somewhat on my own, and started expanding the length of my rides, often venturing beyond 200km and 3,000m of climbing a day. This is also when I completed my longest ride to date - 340km leaving home at 4am and arriving to just catch the setting sun across the Sea of Japan in Naoetsu 15 hours later (and this being Japan I was still back home three hours later).
I used the newly found endurance to do three-day rides with Mike, discovering the highest mountains in Nagano, which are all quite stunning. The mountain landscape changes above 2,000m - and so does the temperature, which is nice in summer.
Then Tom helped me to stretch myself not only in terms of distance but also pace. Tom rarely needs a break, and he takes all climbs at speed. By now we have done quite a few two-day rides together, where discovering a new (well, often, very old) minshuku to stay is part of the fun of the weekend out.
Finally it is always fun to join a larger group ride and meet new people or see old faces. And these rides almost always end differently as planned.

This is why I like cycling so much: there is always something new and unknown, and yet things always end well (at least so far).

I hope I can return some time in the not to distant future.
In the meantime, I will be as stiff as this monkey in Tama Zoo.

29 July 2011

Sunday social ride

UPDATE:  The Sunday ride started according to plan.  Tristan, Graham and I headed out on dry pavement, Jerome caught up, and we met Tom and Ludwig at Tamagawahara-bashi.  6 people -- not bad for a group of expats on an early Sunday morning in mid-summer, with a questionable weather forecast. We decided to head for Takao and then, if all went well, over into the low hills around Sagamiko. The sky was very dark.

As we headed out the river to the WNW, we could see rain and very low clouds, and soon we entered the precip -- real tsuyu (rainy season) or September typhoon season weather, with tiny drenching droplets of warm rain.

Ludwig quickly said he wanted to head back, not favoring a ride in the wet.  But he kept with us to the bridge over the Tamagawa, where he and Tom decided to head out Yaen-kaido toward Onekansen, rather than Takao (an easier "u turn" if the rain did not let up).  Somehow I was expecting that even if Ludwig and Tom showed up, they would probably head off in a different direction, since they like to ride solo and have finally become a good fit for trips together.  Graham, Tristan, Jerome and I pushed on toward Takao, starting up the Asagawa.

The rain got heavier and heavier, the closer we were to the hills surrounding Hachioji.  We were still a few kilometers short of Hachioji Station, at a place where the route along the Asagawa involves multiple turns and road crossings, when Tristan slipped and went down -- I heard a "bam" of someone hitting a guardrail behind me.  He banged his thigh hard, but fortunately nothing broken, just what looked like it will be a nasty, painful bruise.

We continued on into Hachioji, found a Denny's and sought shelter and breakfast, to see if the weather would improve.  It did not, so we headed back.  (Except for Jerome who, having had at least 3 cups of coffee and 4 of cola, decided it would be a shame not to at least go up to Otarumi Pass and back, having made it this far).

By the time we got back across the river the rain had almost ceased and we were on dry pavement again.  We did a short detour, one trip up the Yomiuri-V-Dori to show Tristan and Graham the location, then Tristan and I did a  semi-team time trial along the road on the Kawasaki side back to Futakotamagawa, Graham not far behind.

When I got home, my wife and son reported that it it had not rained at all in Tokyo while we were getting soaked just a bit closer to the western hills.

__________________________

ORIGINAL POST:  It has been awhile ... but is anyone else in town (Tokyo, that is -- not Bremen, London, Grenoble or one of the other branches) and interested in a social ride on Sunday, heading out relatively early Sunday morning?  I think Jerome is also in.


Maybe a 7:30AM start from Kaminoge (my house), or 7:10AM Ebisu, or 8:00AM from Tamagawaharabashi (the bridge that crosses the Tamagawa just after the Keio-kaku keirin stadium and leads to Onekansen)?


No detailed route plan -- depends on the weather and the group. 
 
The forecast is for cooler, cloudy weather, with a chance of rain showers -- could be worse.

Leave a reply in the comments or drop me an email if you are interested.

26 June 2011

Rainy season in the Austrian Alps

The Japanese rainy season, especially towards the end of June when it is not only wet but gets also unpleasantly hot, is the perfect excuse for escaping to the more moderate climates of the European Alps. Or so David thought when he signed up for the TransAlp. So far the weather seems to be holding up in Sonthofen - sunny start this morning as the last minute photo proves, and a forecasts which suggests improving weather from today. So far so good.

My own escape was somewhat less lucky. I arrived in Munich on Thursday evening, to make it through pouring rain to Kitzbuehel, in the Tyrolian Alps. Rain throughout the night and into the morning. Perfect excuse to get a couple of phone conferences done, and a lot more e-mail. But wait - was this what I had come for to Kitzbuehel, a couple of days early before starting to teach a training programme from Sunday?

It finally stopped raining in the late morning and I was immediately on my bike for a short ride under still threatening skies. I managed to stay dry and returned for lunch.



In the afternoon another try. The sun was even lurking through the clouds occasionally. I went for the most famous hill climb course in Austria, the Kitzbueheler Horn. The start is just 10 minutes from my hotel. Over 7km it is a relentless climb at usually 12 percent, sometimes more, from 700m altitude to 1,670m.

Many famous riders have put up best times here, e.g. Cadell Evans (not yet on his Canyon). All nicely documented on a "Wall of Fame".

From the Alpenhaus it is possible to climb another 300m at similar gradient to the very top of the Kitzbueheler Horn. I did this twice last September and the 360 degree view from the peak is simply astounding, in particular in good weather.



But today the weather was not good, and in fact no sooner had I reached the Alpenhaus did some very cold clouds come blowing down from the peak. I plunged down the road in a desperate attempt to escape, but one kilometre down the rain caught up with me. From there it was a miserable descent: 900m down in 8 degree cold rain, wearing summer clothes (but even something warmer would not really have made much of a difference), desperately grapping the breaks to maintain a safe speed yet make it through this hell as fast as possible. I was dreaming of a hot bath back in the hotel...

This was not the greatest start to my stay in Kitzbuehel. As we say in German, "vom Regen in die Traufe", quite literally!

Again rain through the rest of the day and throughout most of the night. The next morning looked a little more promising, but still with threatening skies and a supposed 35% chance of rain. Good enough to give it another try, again without venturing too far before the afternoon, when rain was forecasted once more.

I chose a loop around the mountain range towards the northwest of Kitzbuehel, facing the famous "Wilder Kaiser". Google maps suggested it was possible to avoid the main roads for most of the loop, following side roads. Indeed, this was possible, but as always in Austria, many of those side roads turned out to be unpaved.

In fact, at some point the cycling path became a hiking path! Impossible to tell from google maps, making this section appear like a nicely paved back road...

I ended up doing a fair amount of riding on unpaved paths and even hikling, just as last year. Unlike Japan, most of the unpaved paths are easily passable by road bike. They tend to be so well maintained that it is possible to even climb up many unpaved mountain roads. But of course they add to the wear and tear of the bike, especially the tyres. My first back tyre on this bike lasted for only 2,000km before the top of the tyre came off in places. In Japan, I always end up wrecking my tyres through side cuts from sharp stones on rindos. Not so here.

There aren't actually so many paved roads here. Basically just one trunk road per valley. There are very few actual passes and almost no tunnels (and tunnels are always closed to bicycles). Unlike Japan, no attempt is made to connect roads over hills or mountains, just for the sake of connecting them. It is possible to ride to the top of many mountains, but with the exception of the Kitzbueheler Horn, the roads are always unpaved. A paradise for mountain bikers, but not really for road bikers.

Nonetheless, the scenery is a nice change from Japan, even in this bad weather.

As I will be teaching my younger colleagues throughout the week, I will be following with envy the progress the PE teams are making through the Austrian and Italian Alps, on what seems to be more interesting paved roads and passes which can be found in my immediate vicinity. With a bit of luck, next Saturday may offer the opportunity to repeat another attack of the Grossglockner Hochtor, the highest Austrian pass at 2,500m, 100km to the south-east of Kitzbuehel.

29 January 2011

Kawasaki Velodrome








Ludwig and I joined an exceptional occasion to ride inside a real "keirin" velodrome thanks to Hiroshi's connections. First-time experience for both of us and although we were not fixed-geared, I had a great time - so did Ludwig I believe.
Hiroshi...many thanks for the invitation!

03 January 2011

January 2 Ekiden Ride Report

After lunch at the Hakone Touge Michi No Eki -- nearly all the hard work done for today
The Positivo Espresso/TCC Ekiden Ride went off without a hitch yesterday, as no one got lost, and nearly all the riders reached the top of the climb and the finish along Ashi-no-ko 30 minutes ahead of the runners -- enjoying a welcome from cheering crowds (even cheerleaders), marching bands and everyone making noise to try and stay warm.  We were blessed with glorious, clear weather, dry roads and not-too-strong winds (that were at our backs on much of the ride along the Sagami Bay).

We received plenty of encouragement on the climb, with "gambatte" calls from some pairs of attractive, younger women (waiting for their real heroes) -- inspiring us to even greater than our usual efforts -- and the occasional "Fai-toh!" (fight!) from an oddly dressed Japanese guy.  The muscle-suited cyclist who had dismounted near the top of the climb took the prize.

The group suffered a serious schism in cycling doctrine at the Hakone Pass Michi No Eki.

One group, led by Ludwig, insisted that it would show disrespect to MOB Kraehe if we were to take Route 20 toward Atami Toge (MOB's "favorite road in Japan") in his absence.  They argued that Route 20 must never be ridden by P.E. in his absence, and opted to explore Route 75, the "Tsubaki Line".  Another group, referred to by some as "the renegades" (and by Ludwig as "the re-negates"), led by Dave and Dave, argued that we must ride Route 20, out of respect for MOB -- that he would have "wanted it that way" and would not want to deny us the pleasure of this spectacular stretch along the spine of the mountains of Izu, just because he is stuck in North Germany working on an antique road bike in the dark of winter.  No one thought it was worth calling MOB at 5AM local time to figure it out. Just about the only thing that anyone could agree upon was that the descent into Atami from Route 20 was "a b****", could cause excessive wear on brake pads, and was to be avoided if practical.

So we split into two.  Ludwig's group went back down the bumper-to-bumper, extremely tedious (their words, not mine) road the short way back to Ashi-no-ko, then onto the Tsubaki-Line.  They report that Tsubaki Line was worth this minor inconvenience, is a GREAT cycling road, and some of the photos bear this out.  The TCC reports and links can all be found here.

I joined the renegades, who I had been riding with most of the way since I was slow getting my gloves on and cleat covers off while leaving the Family Mart at Fujisawa, missed a red light and did not see the lead group again until Odawara.  The four of us headed up to the pass, then cruised down Route 20 -- spectacular views as always.  After the traditional brief stop at the entrance to the Izu Skyline, we headed West down Route 11.  This was a really, really, really nice descent -- lots of curves, not too steep, emerging from forest to see a spectacular vista to the West or a valley to our side, and only a couple of cars coming up the hill for the first 5 km or so.  We realized that anyone going from Atami to Numazu takes the OTHER Route 11, which skips Atami Touge, goes through a tunnel and only rejoins our deserted road near the bottom of the hill.  Hard to imagine that any other route could have equaled this one!

Then we enjoyed our own short slog through traffic jams on the flat area, up to Mishima Station, where we acquired the necessary provisions (beer, unagi-flavored "Pretz") to enjoy a quick shinkansen trip back to Tokyo.  My Garmin data/map is here.  Some photos, mostly from Ludwig, a few from me (click on them to see in full size):

The start -- Otemachi/Marunouchi Area of Tokyo early

Too many traffic lights early on.

The Fujisawa Stop -- where I fumbled my cleats and gloves and lost the lead group.
Lots and lots of Japanese cyclists this year ... mostly slower than us, and apparently a huge group that rides slowly AFTER the runners.  I got the pleasure of driving several to complete exhaustion who tried to hang with me on the flat.
Beautiful weather, as usual!

The road turns gradually up.

Andy W, Travis, James M and Mike (photo by Ludwig), waiting for the rest of us at the finish.
Mysterious broadcast-related equipment at the Michi no Eki.  Might have something to do with all those live TV shots from trucks and motorcycles during the Ekiden.
Dave & Dave at lunch -- are those potato chips?

Mr. Rindo and others who did not grab one of the chairs at the table, and so whose legs were maybe a bit numb by the end of lunch.  I thank you for your sacrifice.

Andy and Shane (a/k/a "new Dave").

A motley crew.

The view from our lunch spot.

The traditional stop at Atami Touge.  "We have conquered Izu!  Already 1/20 of the way down the peninsula."

Looking back from Atami Touge.

On the climb of the Tsubaki Line.

I think they went up there -- ahead.

Yes, definitely climbed another hill for a better view, and proof that James M. (a/k/a "MacGyver") topped 1000 meters.

The usual heavy traffic on East Izu roads ...