It kind of snuck up on me this year, but the Tour of California is coming back to the Central Coast. This time, Wednesday’s Stage 4 will begin out at Morro Rock in Morro Bay. The Rock’s backdrop is one of the special things on the Central Coast and people from around the world will be able to take in the majesty of Estero Bay as they get out of town.

Last year’s stage finish in Avila was really fun! By Owen Main

Being from Cayucos, I thought about going there to shoot the guys riding through, but instead I’ll be down at the Rock looking for the favorites, camera in-hand.

As for the race, Julian Alaphilippe is the leader going into Wednesday. Alaphilippe, a 23 year-old frenchman, won the climb to the finish on Gibralter Rd. in Santa Barbara on Tuesday. He’ll mark the third different rider in the leader’s jersey in three days.

For Morro Bay, it’s their first time hosting a stage. It’s really remarkable how many awesome places there are for a bike race on the Central Coast. In my memory, I know stages have started or finished in Pismo Beach, Avila Beach, San Luis Obispo, Cambria, and Paso Robles. Morro Bay is joining in, but you can’t tell me that places like Cayucos or Arroyo Grande wouldn’t also be awesome stage hosts. With our proximity to Highway 1, the Central Coast should always have at least one stage start or finish around here.

Tips for those who want to go watch the start: get there early — the start is at 9:55, so plan to get into town at least an hour or two early. Parking far away and walking will be two things you can count on, especially with the limited traffic flow the ithsmus provides.

If you see me, say hi. And have fun y’all.

I idolize/d Byron Scott and Magic Johnson. Loved the 39-win team in 1993 that nearly knocked off the all-mighty Charles Barkley-led Suns. At the age of 12, I loved Sedale Threatt. Embraced Cedric “the Garbage Man” Ceballos as the most underrated swing man of the 90’s and still root for the grinning spin doctor of humor with a dominate unrelenting game and a personality to match it: Shaquille O’Neal.

You see….I like me some Lakers. But I just don’t love the maniacally self obsessed Kobe Bryant. That’s it.   

That was in my opinion (key word there…pay attention), the worst move in franchise history, when the team opted to send Shaq packing to Miami in favor of Kobe. It set a precedent that anyone and everyone was/is recyclable. And Shaq, the man who made Kobe Bryant Kobe Bryant is not ever, for one second, recyclable. 

So I began asking the question: Why do I have to go down with the ship if I hate the captain? Why don’t I get to be a free agent with my fansmanship? Why do I have to keep rooting for a team whose face I no longer support? Little did I know just how common my Central-Coast -swing-state perspective was.

A perfect example of this was documented by our own Owen Main in the Spring of 2011. Main asked the question in this article: Is the Central Coast a Giants or Dodgers country? And the answer was neither. What we discovered about ourselves was that we just don’t take sports that serious here. We have beautiful women, concerts in the plaza, an electric farmers market, beautiful downtown’s, stunning antique architecture, award-winning wine country, great bars, rolling Irish-like hillsides, hiking, rugged beaches, pines by the sea, clean air, low crime, abundance of restaurants, wonderful school systems, plentiful tourism, fishing, lakes and according to Oprah, one of the happiest environments in the world. 

Hakuna Matata.

Here, we embrace the many shades of grey and not the childish infatuations or irrelevant loyalty to organizations that have no grip whatsoever on our SLO life.

So here is my short opinion on the Dwight Howard landing in Los Angeles:

I think the move to land Dwight Howard was the second worst decision in team history. He’s a malcontent disconnected character with a lust for Hollywood stardom. And though I agree that Andrew Bynum was a glass kneed fool with a cheap and uninspired heart, he was, for the time-being locked up longer than one freaking year.

One year. 

In the Summer of 2013 when Howard is an unrestricted free agent, he will do as he’s promised all along by signing an enormous contract with the Brooklyn Nets to become the billboard face of Jay-Z’s franchise. And then what? Steve Nash is 40, Bryant a crippled 35 and Meta World is off in India learning to braid hair and meditate. 

The Lakers now have one year to win Bryant his sixth ring and are still only the third best team in the Western Conference. Not to mention I give them only a smidgen of a shot against the deep defensive minded Bulls and no shot whatsoever against the steam-rolling, LeBron-led Heat. I can name four teams right now with a deeper rotation: the Thunder, Spurs, Bulls and Heat.  And the upstart Pacers are on the fringes.    

So just remember this article when Dwight Howard is an underachieving underwear model with his low seeded Nets teams and you’re stuck watching pick and rolls between Steve Blake and Jordan Hill.  Learn to stop throwing rocks and sticking your tongue out at pragmatic realists with a fair take on things. It’s getting tiring and old and I would like to have a mature conversation.  

“OK TEAM (notice there is no i in TEAM) here’s the scoop: Lighthouse Ride, end of September (exact date to be provided later when I feel like it), 60 plus miles, commitment, training, support, and most of all a sore butt. But: think about the feeling of accomplishment after you begin to get feeling back into your legs, your arms and hands stop trembling, and your eyes begin to refocus. I’ll have more later, including guest speakers, links, workout schedules from my heart, firm, hard, and software and other technological tools. Keep in touch.”

My family and I had been riding on the Bob Jones Trail a few times and discussed riding more, but none of us saw this coming. Steve Main had thrown down the gauntlet. We had seven months to go from seven or eight miles round trip to over 60. “This should be fun,” I thought.

Having played three sports in high school, and as a regular at lunchtime basketball games, I had only small worries about being able to finish the ride. While I had never been on a bicycle for that long, I was sure that with some practice and training I’d be able to complete the metric century and have fun doing it.

Throughout February and March, my father’s email and the looming Lighthouse Ride inspired us to ride more. My brother and sister participated in a few “training” rides, but a core group of four of us were present on most weekends. While my father and I rode ahead and waited, my mother and wife worked hard to improve their riding. Before long, we rode 20 miles. San Luis Obispo to Los Osos and back. We thought it was a really long ride. When we got back home, 20 miles felt like an eternity. I was sore for a few days after and my wife began to waver about being able to finish the big ride.

In June, we rode from San Luis Obispo to Pismo Beach via Price Canyon and back on the coast–a 25-30 mile ride. In Pismo, we realized we might not have fueled ourselves as well as we should have ahead of time. So the five of us had a good snack, refilled our water, and set off toward San Luis Obispo. The M&M’s I had did what I needed them to do, but my parents struggled and the heat finally got to them 22 miles into the ride. While my wife, sister, and I completed the loop and made it back to the car, the doubt about the group being able to make 60 miles was as great as it had ever been.  While 25 miles was the longest three of us had ever ridden, it was still less than half of what loomed before us.

While I played basketball, football, and baseball in high school, I had never trained myself to participate in any “endurance” sports. I liked the feeling of consistent exercise and being able to take a quick ride after work or on a weekend morning. Unlike other sports, participation didn’t have to be a production. The bike was always there and the road provided solitude and a place to think that few other places could. Combined with sporadic basketball, I began to feel stronger and more fit. Clothes started to fit better and I felt really good.

Our team scheduled rides around fun places and I saw much of the county I’d never really taken notice of before. Edna Valley, the frontage road through Shell Beach, Pismo Beach, and the road to the Oceano Dunes quickly became favorites. The Bob Jones trail became a part of a good ride, not the whole ride.

With the ride was less than a month away, my work schedule got busy. I traveled for two of the four weeks leading up to the ride, leaving little time for the training I’d been enjoying. The week before the ride, I traveled to Honduras for work. Despite being in another country and having lots to worry about I found myself wondering things like how difficult it would be to ride a bicycle in a city in Central America–namely San Pedro Sula.

Upon arrival back to the Central Coast and San Luis Obispo, I was struck with how lucky I am to live here. The calm traffic and great roads make San Luis Obispo county an ideal locale for riding. The more I travel to other places, the more I realize that 70 degree February days are not common in this country. I need to be more thankful more often. But I digress.

Cuesta College parking lot. 7:00. AM. Four of us trained enough to sign up for the ride and we were ready to go. Only one problem: it was warm. On a day that was the hottest of the year throughout the Central Coast, the temperature would rise to a sweltering 110 degrees in San Luis Obispo and will be well over 100 degrees on the coast. At 7:45, when we finally get started, it shouldn’t have been as warm as it was–well over 70 degrees. As we pedaled out onto the road, we felt good. At least we wouldn’t have to worry about getting cold.

Ten miles into the ride. We were all still feeling good. Almost to Cayucos, the group was still riding together and at a decent pace. It was 8:30 and the temperature in the small beach community was rising above 80 degrees. This did not bode well. As we rolled into the designated pit-stop at Hardie Park in Cayucos, the temperature was well above 80 degrees.

About twenty miles into the ride there was a hill. It’s a gradual hill, but in temperatures over 90 degrees by now, it was too much for my dad. At the top of the hill, he bonked (sorry dad). As my wife, mom and I rode into Cambria, my mom was overheated herself and decided that staying with my dad was probably more important than braving 100-plus degree heat.

The Main "Team"

On the way back South on Highway One, ice cold water became warm before I could even take a drink. My wife was a trooper and made it 45 miles as the coastal breeze felt more like the rush of hot air when the oven is opened. Back at the pit stop in Cayucos, the wife had had enough. I would have to pedal the last 15 miles on my own.

Quite a few people passed me during those last 15 miles. I lost count at 12 or 13. As I pulled into the same Cuesta College parking lot, caked in a layer of road grime and sweat, I wasn’t sure whether to be proud of finishing or just relieved that it was over.

Proud or relieved, I was hooked. I have participated in one more ride and my goal this year is to complete a real century–100 miles. I’ve begun to anticipate a good bike ride after work as much as playing basketball at lunch time. For anyone who knows me, that’s saying quite a bit.

As I climbed up Turri Road last week during a sunny weekend ride, the cows were scared away by my heavy breathing. There was no doubt I was suffering after a short California Winter when my bike had mostly stayed in the garage (does anyone know where I can get a good bike trainer?). But the view was beautiful. The herons flying over the back bay, the beauty of the day, and the steady rhythm of pedaling was therapudic. Unfortunately, I got a flat tire twenty miles into my ride that day and had to call the wife to come pick me up. Yep, a great day.

Like the article? Hate it? Thought it was OK? Want to comment on the great Central Coast riding options? Email me at owen@fansmanship.com .