On Turning 50,000

This coming Saturday, 19 July 2014, I will hit an interesting milestone.  I joined South Side Cycling Club back in 2009.  At the very end of that year, I started using a feature of the club’s website to log rides and track miles.  Since that time, I’ve faithfully posted every ride and every trainer session.  This coming Saturday, I will cross the 50,000 mile mark.  Please note, that is not my “all time,” or “Life Time” mileage.  I’ve been riding a lot longer than I’ve been a member of SSCC!  (In fact, I have log books that go back over 40 years.)  So this 50K miles is only a fraction of my life’s riding.

But it’s a significant fraction.  This particular 50,000 miles has all been done since I joined the club.  I am pleased to have this particular gift.  I want to celebrate a little.  So I’m inviting everyone to come along.

On this coming Saturday, I should arrive at work with between 10 and 25 miles remaining before I cross the 50,000 mile mark.  I plan to leave from work, at Bicycles Unlimited, at 6:30 P.M., saddle up, and finish riding the first 50,000 miles of my membership in the club.  I’d love to have company on this.

It will be a road ride.  Bring your bike.  Dress up in your roadie kit, wear your helmet, and let’s all go for a group ride together.  What 

The Good

What makes cycling good?  What is the bestest most goodest part of riding?

Getting away from stuff!

Going down hills…  fast.

It’s easy.

It’s hard.

Gliding through a turn.

Taking a turn real tight, fast, and hard.

Riding with friends.

Riding alone.

The adrenaline!

The peace.

What does it for you?

Songs

Every once in a while I see something in one of the bicycle mags that is supposed to be witty or profound.  Usually it’s a question along the lines of,  “What does your bike say to you?”

My bikes don’t talk.  They do communicate, and I do listen.  They each have names.  I don’t often share those names with others.  The names all arise from charateristics of the bike.  Over time, each machine seems to suggest some connection or quality the evokes a name.

My bikes don’t talk to me.  They sing.  Each bike has a song.  Perhaps it would be more correct to state that each bike is a song.

There’s a soprano, who is higly cantankerous, but well worth the efforts.  I have one terrific, low-maintenance bass.  There’s a couple of altos.  (An alto is a soprano who can read music.)  There are a couple of baritones, steady and of good wind.  There’s even one who doesn’t sing much, but rather plays a mean percussion section.  (Polyrhythm of course!)

Why do you think we call it a “tune up”?

A (soggy) Mid-Spring Celebration Ride

The weather was threatening.  There were pop-up showers all around us.  So?

Four of us assembled in the “Fred” parking lot.  It was dry (kind of) there.

So Scott, Chris, Deb, and I decided to go for it.  We pushed off promptly at 7:30, pleased that it wasn’t actively raining.

By the time we’d gone a mile and a half, we were on wet pavement.  Another mile saw us riding into drizzle.  By the five mile mark we were on dry roads again.  (Hey!  This isn’t soo bad!)

Of course, as we moved eastward, we started seeing wet more roads.  By the time we crossed GA-85, it became apparent that we were catching up with the storm.  It was wet, and getting wetter.  But I had high hopes.  I knew our route would turn south, and I reasoned that we would be behind the storm, and it would move away from us.  (It could happen.)

As we moved forward, and each rider choose their moment to turn their lights on, the rain picked up.    We had just crossed Goza road when I heard it.  It’s a unique sound.  Not drizzle, but the sound that approaching rain makes as it falls on fresh Spring foliage.  I’ve learned to hear that sound as a warn.  I made a decision call, and we stopped briefly to pull on rain gear.  (Those of us who had it did.)  This turned out to be a really good move, as the rain came in earnest about two minutes later.

I was wondering if we were still catching up to the back of the retreating storm, of if we were advancing into a different kind of trouble.  I didn’t have long to speculate.

As we continued to ride, we started seeing flashes of lightening in the distance, and any hint of clearing sky above us just vanished.  More lightening.  Thunder.  Getting closer.  Decision time.

I made the call.  We turned toward Peachtree City, and abandoned the planned route.  As we continued south for a bit we could  see that we were advancing into a powerful and violent storm.  As Scott put it, “we were riding right into the mouth of the Beast.”

Fortunately, our “bailout” route turned back to the north and west, and we moved away from the storm.  By the time we were at the outskirts of Peachtree City again, we could still hear the rumbles, but they were behind us.  The roads were wet, but there was no more rain falling on us.  We arrived back at the finish point on dry roads.

That was a somewhat sodden and bedraggled crew standing there at the end of the ride.  Oddly, we were all smiling, laughing, and happy.  No, we didn’t go as far as we’d intended, but we did go.  More, we stayed safe, and we had us some fun doing it.

Now don’t you wish you’d been there too!

Friday Follies ~~ Peace

Fifteen miles.  Six percent.

As soon as the ride begins, so does the climb.  It’s only fifteen miles.

People who ride tend to toss grade values around.  One hears them.  “It’s a ten percent grade for miles.”  Sounds intimidating.  “There’s sections that are over fifteen percent!”  Wow.

There is one group of folks, here locally, who speak of a two mile long grade at a whopping ten percent.  It’s supposed to be over near Luthersville.  I find that interesting.  Two miles is 10,560 feet.  If there were a 10% grade of that distance, it would rise 1,056 feet.  Add to that the general terrain elevation in the area, and it should stick up to an elevation of around 1,800 feet.  For purposes of comparison, Stone Mountain has an elevation of 1,686 feet.  I’d think the “Luthersville Mountain” would be visible.  Odd that I’ve never seen it.

The number 6% doesn’t sound like much.  That’s an elevation change of only six feet in a distance of 100 feet.  Hardly sounds like much.  But at a mere 12 miles per hour, a cyclist will cover 100 feet in 5.7 seconds.  To do that, on a 6% grade, the cyclist must lift the bike and rider 6 feet in that same time.  Not that tough.  The first time.  But it keeps going on.  That’s like picking the bike up and climbing stairs.  To maintain the same effort as a 6% grade, at 12 mph, the climber must go up one complete story, two flights of commercial stairs, every ten seconds.  And keep doing it.  A 6% grade is steep enough to make one know that it’s a climb.  It’s hard.  It’s not super hard, or terrible.  The bike isn’t in danger of stalling or tipping over.  But it takes an effort to make it go forward.

From the south end of Waynesville, North Carolina, the climb starts the moment the bike is mounted.  It goes to six percent immediately.  The grade continues up to Balsam Gap, and from there onto the Blue Ridge Parkway, heading south.  For fifteen miles, from Waynesville to Water Rock Knob, that grade is a relentless, steady, consistent six percent.  It will rise 4,752 feet in those 15 miles.

As the climb progresses, the rider will notice that breathing becomes more difficult.  This isn’t imagination.  The very air is thinning.  Half of the atmosphere is below 5,000 feet.  Ten miles into the climb, when the legs are really starting to burn, there is only half as much oxygen per breath.

It’s 15 miles long.  The grade is a constant 6%.  The rider will gain 90% of a mile of elevation.

Is it worth it?  The view is spectacular.  The descent back down is exhilarating.  Is it worth it?  A car could do it in a half hour.  A rider takes more than twice that long going up.

I can’t wait to do it again.  Peace lives at the top of that climb.

Stuff I like:

• Good Rain Gear
• Comfortable, walkable shoes
• Warm and Waterproof Winter cycling boots
• Good gloves
• Good lights
• Clipless pedals that work
• Forgiving frames
• Bikes that are comfortable for the long haul
• Fast bikes
• Reliable durable tires
• Fast tires
• Long rides
• Longer rides
• Short rides
• Spring rides
• SUMMER!
• Autumn rides
• Night rides
• Going into the woods alone on a bike
• Good company on any ride
• Shorts that don’t bite
• Cool clean water on a hot day
• Roads without traffic
• Long sightlines
• Mountain rides
• Climbing
• Descending!
• Time to ride

(Note:  This is not an exhaustive list.)

Happy Days!

The change of the calendar to a new year seems to mark a lot of new beginnings.  I’ve recently passed a few of those.

The First Mosquito Bite of the Year:  No news here, it’s been an unusually mild Fall and Winter.  (I’m still sort of waiting for Winter to actually happen.)  This one is an indicator of just how mild it’s been.  I was taking out the trash last Tuesday, and was swarmed by mosquitos.

The First Commute of the Year!  It’s late, I know.  Heaven knows I’ve really wanted to do more of this.  I’ve just had a lot of circumstances and obligations that forced me to drive instead of riding.  With most of those out of the way, Saturday was a good day to begin.  It was chilly at the beginning of the trip in, but it warmed wonderfully.  It was good to start the day on the bike, and in sunshine!

The First Ride Home Started with Daylight:  This relates to the last item.  There is a period in every Winter when my homeward trip starts out in the dark.  I always look forward to the first ride that starts in daylight.  This year it was the above mentioned.

The First Ride Without Tights:  Yes it has been mild.  This past week, it was warm enough to ride (once!) without tights.  Bare legs and comfortable in January.  Now this is why it is good to live here.

The First Fixie Ride:  Logged two hours on the fixed gear.  That was fun, and it completely trashed my legs.  Good training.  Humbling.

The First Tire Swap:  Admittedly, this is early, and I may regret it, but…  I just changed the skins on my go-to road bike from the “Winter” 700 X 25s to the “Spring/Summer” 700 X 23s.  This is way early.  I don’t usually do this until sometime in March.

There are a few more “firsts” yet to come...

• First Ride Home Without Lights
• First Novice Road Ride (next Sunday!)
• First Audax Tune Up
• First Seasonal Night Ride
• First Ride without a jacket
• First Ride with bare arms
• First Ride in 80 Degrees

What are the milestones you’ve accomplished, and what are you looking forward to?

Friday Follies ~~ Best Christmas

It’s been a hectic run up to Christmas this year.  Lots of activities, a long and temperate Autumn, many more riders in the area, all to the good, but it does make for a busy busy time in the bike shop.

One more full day left, then a half day on Saturday, and we go home for the weekend.

Today will be spent trotting out layaways, helping with last minute shoppers, and coping with the occasional “day off emergency.”  We’ll see small kids wandering in, big-eyed, looking at the shop dogs and the shiny bicycles.  We’ll have our share of “just looking,” types, who are simply killing time.  We’ll see a few of the faithful, stopping by to smile and wish us a happy holiday.

Tomorrow tools will be racked, the shop tidied up, and the doors closed.  It’s time for the elves to go home.  It will be quiet in the shop.  Time for Christmas.

May you all share the warmth, happiness, and joy of this season.

And may each and every one of you have the best and most…

MERRY CHRISTMAS

Christmas Lights Road Ride: Ride Report

Wow!  What can I say?  Last night’s Christmas Lights Road Ride was a delight!  We had a large turnout.  (I counted 22 riders.)  I did not manage to get everyone’s names, so I’m not going to list anyone.  (I don’t want to offer a slight, you were all there, and you were all great!)

Conditions:  To begin with, it was a good bit warmer than expected.  That was a plus.  It was, of course, dark, but everyone was well lighted, and well reflectorized.  It did not rain.  Traffic was relatively light, and with only one rather brief incident, well behaved.

Two note on traffic:  The incident was one obnoxious “bully” driver.  He liked his horn, and engaged in a bit of “buzz driving.”  The Police were notified.  As for the rest, it was fun and amusing.  Oncoming drivers, when confronted with a massive group of extremely well lighted riders, tend to slow down and pull to the left.  They don’t know what we are, and they give us full use of the road.  Following drivers, for the most part, seem to stay back until they have ample room to pass.  All to the good.

Our route wound through the county, until we got onto Sandy Creek Road.  The new construction on the “West Bypass” is a mess, but I’m proud to say that every rider negotiated it well and correctly.  Intersection discipline was fair, especially for such a large group.  We did have to wait and re-form several times, but this was accomplished almost seamlessly.  (Bravo!)

We got through the entire night without a flat tire, or a “mechanical.”  (YAY!)

Everyone seemed to enjoy the wonderfully gaudy display at the Gaddy property, and then we turned onto Adams Road.

On Adams, there are several individual displays that are well worth noting.  They range from the professionally tasteful to the happily loud and bright.

Dogwood Road was a sort of quiet moment.  There are a few good hills on this stretch, but the pace calmed a bit, and most managed to stay well together.  Then came the turn onto the notorious Crabapple Lane!  This road treats the riders to a half mile of unpaved road.  The road condition was good.  Surface hard packed, and the recent rains have washed most of the gravel off of the roadway.  I’m happy to report that no one seemed to have any difficulty with this obstacle.

The group was a bit scattered after the dirt section, so we re-grouped at the end of Crabapple lane.  Then, back inside Peachtree City, we rode through a couple of neighborhoods, with displays that ranged from bright and pretty, to purely beautiful, and even to extravagantly outrageous.

A bit more than two hours of good, relaxed pace riding, covered an official 25.3 miles, and brought us back, for the traditional end of ride toast in the parking lot.  Good cheer and happy camaraderie marked the whole night.

All in all, this was one for the books.  A most excellent ride!  My deepest thanks and cheers to all!

The Temple:

There are many ways to approach the act of riding a bicycle.  Readers of this blog do not often see me advocating the “just get on it and ride” approach, although that is quite valid.  I like the idea of bikes that are built and equipped such that no special preparations need be made to ride them.  There is a whole mindset of capital C cycling, that one must be on the right bike, wearing the right gear, etc.  Unfortunately, this perception tends to be intimidating and off-putting to many who could and would derive a great deal from cycling.

That said, the capital C cyclist certainly does have much to give and gain.  I like the whole aspect of having the right bike for the intended purpose, and equipping it, and myself correctly and well for the task at hand.  When I am commuting, especially in the Winter, there are a whole series of preparations to be made prior to the ride.  Weather must be observed, clothing selected, other choices have to be considered.  And, at the end of the day there is the reverse series of tasks, putting all the stuff away and readying for the next time.  To an extent, every ride contains a bit of this preparation.

Observation of the Proper Forms:  Some rides are more important, and more than casual.  These require more preparation and mindful attention.  I think of these special occasions as being akin to preparing for worship.  There is a liturgical aspect to them.  One is about to enter the Temple.  Reverence, Respect, and Good Preparation are required and needful.  It is ritual that we speak of here, or possibly meditation.  The correct and orderly, careful, and detailed preparation, is required to focus the mind and bring seriousness of purpose, before embarking on the mission…  or before entering the Temple.

I am, of course using metaphor here, but a very close one.  There are certain rides that amount to a form of worshipfulness.  The annual Ride of Silence comes to mind, but there are others.  Remember, not all worship is grim.  In fact, the old word “solemn” actually meant a purposeful celebration!  And there are many religious observances that are joyous and glorious celebrations.

How many of us prepare for our riding with that kind of za-zen deliberation, meditatively, calm, and yet celebratory?  I wonder that.  At the same time, I hope there are a lot among us who do, “prepare to enter the Temple” before riding.

Come on out and celebrate with us tonight!  It’s time for the Annual Christmas Lights Road Ride!  (Details can be found at the bottom of last Thursday's Post.)

Lights!

Important Programming Note:  Some of you noticed that yesterday’s post was a “Thursday Thoughts” feature.  As these usually come out on Thursdays this caused a bit of confusion.  We apologize for the inconvenience, and would like to claim youth and inexperience coupled with long and faithful service.  The following Wednesday post is being offered on a Thursday by way of rectifying the damage.

We now return to (ir)regular programming.

With the Winter Solstice just seven (now six) days away, it’s staying dark much later in the mornings, and getting dark way to soon in the afternoon.  The lights have to come on sooner, and stay on longer.  The diminished daylight affects us all, in many ways, but what a miracle our lights are!

I find that, as a cycle-commuter, my go-nogo decision is simplified greatly by the ready availability of good lighting.  As recently as five years ago, the stuff that was on the market was either barely adequate, or insanely expensive.  Burn time for the good bright stuff were not all that good, and charging time was inconveniently long.  Much of that has changed, and decidedly for the better.  e.g.  My good LED lighting systems can last most of a week’s commuting on one charge, and a full charge takes only five hours.  When one adds that they are bright enough to command respect from motorists, one must admit, this is good, very good indeed.

But now the Christmas Season is upon us, and that adds another dimension of light.  Folks decorate for the coming holiday, and many put up displays of light.  It brightens my heart to see this happy glow again and again, as I ride my way home.  I find, even in the worst weather conditions, that I am smiling as I see some of the homes lit up and festive.

Next week, we’ll go out as a group, on two different nights, to ride together, and view some of the more extravagant displays.  Festive garb is encouraged for these rides, but not required.  If you plan to attend, and want to costume, please…  safety first!  Beware of obscuring your vision.  (I mind a year when one rider showed up in a full Santa Suit.  The beard had a nasty habit of blowing up in his face at the most incapacitating times.)   Secure loose leggings, capes, etc.  Costume parts getting caught in drivelines or wheels do not a happy evening make.

Are you, like me, a big kid at heart?  Do you delight in the pretty colors and bright lights of the season?  Come out and be festive.  Come out and ride.  Come out and share the spirit of the season with like-minded riders.

Christmas Lights Road Ride:  We’ll be out on the roads.  We will tour around and see some of the county’s more extravagant displays.  We will ride in a group, and keep good and safe order always, but we’ll have fun!

Where:  Start/Finish is at Bicycles Unlimited in Peachtree City

When:  Monday 19 December at 7:00 P.M. (sharp!!)

Distance/Pace:  Approximately 25 miles.  Expect to be out for 2.5 to 3 hours.

Requirements:  Helmets (always!), Good headlights and tail lights.  Reflective vests or sashes, and reflective ankle bands.  Dress for the weather.  (I’ll plan one or two “clothing adjustment stops” if necessary.)

Additional:  Rain will cancel, and there is no rain date.

Christmas Lights Path Ride:  We’ll be on Peachtree City’s multi-use paths.  (No road riding!)  We will tour around and see some of the city’s more extravagant and beautiful displays.  We will ride in a group, and keep good and safe order always, but we’ll have fun!

Where:  Start/Finish is at Bicycles Unlimited in Peachtree City

When:  Wednesday 21 December at 7:00 P.M. (sharp!!)

Distance/Pace:  Approximately 15 miles.  Expect to be out for 1.5 to 2 hours.

Requirements:  Helmets (always!), Good headlights.  Dress for the weather.  (I’ll plan one or two “clothing adjustment stops” if necessary.)

Additional:  Rain will cancel, and there is no rain date.

Thursday Thoughts: Thanks

I am personally humbled and sincerely thankful for all of YOU each and every day!

A Safe

And

Happy

Thanksgiving

To you all!!

Friday Follies ~~ The Thrill of it All

A good friend once said to me,  “It seems to me that what bicycle riders are mostly doing is trying to get to a place where they can get a good coast back down.”

When Guy said that, I drew in breath to contradict him.  I was formulating an argument based on fitness, and on the practicality of using a bike for transportation.  But then I just let that breath back out, grinned at my good friend, and said,  “You know..?  You’re right.”

Adrenaline is a hormone that the body produces in response to fear or anger.  It’s the “fight or flight” trigger.  It boosts the body’s physical performance.  As adrenaline is released into the system, things happen.  The heart rate rises, respiration increases, blood flow to the digestive tract is diminished, at the same time that the peripheral circulation (to the skeletal muscles) is increased.  The hair on the body stands up, in an ancient reflex to make the body look bigger and more menacing.  Core temperature starts to rise.  Sweat flow is increased to improve cooling.  The vision seems to clear, hearing sharpens, the brain speeds up.  In short it’s a rush.  This is why folks go to amusement parks and get on rides.

Amusement park rides are designed to scare the livin’ spit out of you.  (It might be added, that while the rides are designed to scare, they are also carefully constructed to be as safe as possible.)  Why is this?  Because, if you know that there is really no danger, it can be fun to have a good scare.

I think I’ve mentioned this before.  My entire cycling “career” started one bright morning when I dragged the kid-clunker (that I didn’t know how to ride) up to the top of the equipment ramp on the barn hill.  There was a pure adrenaline moment right after I pushed off.  Scared me spitless, and I thought it was a complete blast.

I have a confession to make.  I’m an adrenaline junky.  I live for that moment, that tingling, copper tasting instant, right on the very utter edge.  I control this tendency very closely now.  In this advanced part of my life, I prefer to calculate the risks closely.  (Such was not always the case.)

“Coasting” is an interesting word.  In cycling it seems to imply the act of drifting along, effortlessly, not a care in the world.  But in fact, coasting is the act of riding the bike on accumulated momentum, or with the acceleration provided by a down hill slope.  True as far as it goes, but there is a place where a vaguely defined line is crossed, and “coasting” becomes “descending.”

All cyclists, it would seem, enjoy coasting, but many have no taste for descending.  What’s the difference?  Answer:  Speed!  In descending there is speed involved.  Suddenly there is a need for technique.  Braking and cornering, appropriate lines, coefficient of adhesion, wind drag, crosswind buffet, and road surface all become incredibly important.  Face it, if one falls off of the bike, or hits something at a gentle pace, it may hurt and leave a little boo-boo.  Elevate the speed to something north of 45 miles per hour and any problem is serious.  But isn’t that the point?  We aren’t really looking for pain and suffering, but the rush of the wind and the knowledge that this just could get out of hand…  These things provide the reward.  It’s that sensation of being truly alive, fully engaged, and in this moment that we seek.

Climbs are rewarding in their own right, but really now, would we do them if there were a ride waiting at the top?

Thursday Thoughts: The Joy of Pain

Does that title sound twisted and weird?

It may, but there’s truth in it, and I do not mean in a sado-masochistic way.  It’s a simple fact; athletics serves us pain in a variety of dishes.  There is injury, and there is no fun and little joy there.  But there is also the pain that is associated with hard training, and with high performance.

A long hard climb inflicts an interesting kind of discomfort.  As the rider continues, the muscles fatigue. Fatigue products accumulate in working tissues.  Supporting structures (hands, backside, back, feet) begin to report discomfort from prolonged pressure.  All the symptoms intensify as effort level is increased.  More, if the rider starts to approach the body’s anaerobic threshold, the lungs begin to burn, the diaphragm starts to ache.

Stay in that high aerobic zone for a while.  The body begins to go into “oxygen debt.”  Vision tunnels.  The rider can hear the heart beating with a deep thud, right in the eardrum.  Push a little harder and color washes out of the visual field, the arms start to tingle, legs get (long past the “burn”) start to feel like they are made out of water.  Breathing is painful and difficult, and it seems there is on air in the air!  When little multi-color paisleys start to swim across the visual field, and the world is seen beyond them as if through the wrong end of a long telescope…  Stop!  The body is close to “oxygen bankruptcy.”  Go there and one simply falls over.

These same symptoms can be felt during specific, targeted intensity training.  And there are no small number of cyclists who engage in this.

Or take the more muted kind of pain that a long long ride generates.  After eight to ten hours in the saddle everything hurts, or is numb, or sore.  Further, the experienced rider knows it will stay that way for several days after.

Why on earth would anyone endure this?

I’ve been asked why the “hard core” cyclists subject themselves to that kind of pain.  I can’t answer for others.  And I’ll set aside the whole issue of endorphin addiction.  I can only answer for myself.

“Why do you do it?”  I am asked. 

The short answer is,  “Because I’m a hedonist.  I love to feel good!”  Usually this results in a perplexed expression on the face of my questioner.  But it’s true.  I love the feeling of well being that comes from a properly trained and fit body.  Brief periods of pain are a small price to pay for that.

And then too, there is an old expression among southern black field hands.  They speak of an individual who continues to seek out suffering, by saying,  “It got good to him.”  Maybe that’s it.

Wind

I guess, no matter how good or sweet the day or ride, there are some riders who will always find something to complain about.

This past weekend, as delightful as the weather was, I heard it.  On Saturday, while I was stuck working inside the shop, I heard riders griping about the wind.  I most certainly did get out on Sunday and it was a grand day.  And yet again, on Monday morning, I heard the complaints about the wind.

I am puzzled by these complaints.  I like wind.  I’ve ridden on the Outer Banks of N.C., where the wind is always blowing and usually brisk.  Remember, that's why the Brothers Wright went there?  In the early part of the 20th century, Kitty Hawk was NOT convenient to Dayton!  But the brothers needed wind, and that is where the Weather Bureau said it could most reliably be found.  I’ve down in the more remote areas of Hatteras Island, on a Winter day.  There was not a car in sight.  To ride was to be constantly buffeted by the wind.  When stopping, the only sound to be heard was the distant surf and the rush of the wind.

I’ve done a brevet in Florida where the last 25 miles were directly into a north wind.  The ground was flat, and yet it felt like a climb.  It blew at 20 to 25 miles an hour, right in our faces, and there was no place to hide from it.  It was glorious.

There are those days, when the ride is beautiful.  The road smooths out, the work becomes effortless, the rider achieves a  Za-Zen state, mindful but not thoughtful.  It is not necessary to think.  The bike does not need to be controlled.  The bike simply is, it is an extension of the rider, and the road is an extension of the bike.  What do you want?  Perfection?  Perfection comes from within and from the bike, not from the conditions.

Those moments of clarity do not come from complaint.  It is necessary to embrace the world, the road, the bike, the day, to love and enjoy it all.  It is necessary to practice at this.  It does not come naturally.  It is a practice worth pursuing.  Those timeless times are priceless jewels.  Complaining will kill them.

There is no perfect bike, no perfect shoe, no perfect weather, no perfect day.  And yet, on any given day, the bike is just what it is, the body is just what it is, and the weather is the weather that is.  These things make that day.  The alternative is television and apathy.

Be thankful for your challenges.  Meet them squarely and enjoy them.  Live the ride!  Ride Life!

Friday Follies ~~ How was it?

I pulled the bike up to the porch, just ahead of the impending downpour.  I was out of breath, muscles trembling from the all-out effort of the last five miles.  I executed a near flawless flying dismount, shouldered the bike, and vaulted up the steps, just seconds ahead of the deluge.

Harry was standing there, a cigarette dangling from his mouth.  “How was it?”  He asked.

How was it?  I’ll tell you how it was!

I’d started riding fairly late in the day.  It was hot, and I was sweat blinded as I stopped at the very first traffic light.  The bike wasn’t shifting right.  It kept jumping right past second gear.  I’d try to shift back down to it, and it would skip down to first.  When I tried for second again, it would skip up to fourth.  Grr.

About four miles outside of town, I flatted.  On the rear.  I was running sew-ups then.  Big fun.  And, of course, there was no shade readily available.  But I was determined to get this ride in.

I found the offending bit of glass, marked the spot, and went to work repairing the thing.  In those days I carried a patch kit, extra rim glue in a tube, a small sewing kit.  After what seemed like two or three eternities, I had the thing back together, pumped up, and seemed to be holding.

One benefit from the flat stop.  The bike seemed to be shifting better after the rear wheel was installed.

The long climb up Smith’s Hill had me really cooked.  It was hot!  Sweat pouring into my eyes.  I was afraid to roll over the top.  I couldn’t see.  I knew the descent would cool me down, but I’d crash first.  So I pulled to the side, put a foot down, dowsed my face with water and scrubbed at my eyes with my bandana.  The descent was marvelous.

About 25 miles into the ride, I ran out of water.  I was in the middle of nowhere in particular.  Five miles later, parched and gasping, I filled bottles at a spigot in a churchyard.

By then the clouds I been noticing seemed to start coalescing.  Thunder was rumbling.  We were gonna get some “widely scattered” alright.

I was working my way through a tight, narrow valley, with the sky turning ominous, when the front flatted.  Nothing for it, but to go to work.  Deliberate haste.  Smooth and slow is fast.  I was just packing the last of the tire repair gear when the bottom dropped out.  Soaked to the bone and chilled to the core in an instant, I was.

The climb up out of the valley was brutal, rain hitting hard enough to hurt, visibility almost impossible.  The descent down the other side was an exercise in flirtation with hypothermia.

As often happens in the mountains in August, the rain went away, just as I got to the bottom of the grade.  The sun came out, and it was instantly a Turkish bath on the road.  It was hot, incredibly humid, water and muck being thrown by passing cars and trucks.  But, after an hour of this, I was dry (sort of) and not the least chilled.  Time to turn for home.

Another long grinder of a climb, with the seat accumulating, lungs seared, legs growing trembly, that electric tingle in the arms, vision tunneling.  A nice, but too short descent followed.

That descent almost got me.  A tourist pulling a big Airstream trailer (a rig far too big for the Buick towing it) just about swatted me into the ditch.

Finally!  Nothing but a five mile series of rollers to run, and I’d be home.  Of course, the storm clouds were gathering again.  After a mile the lightning was cracking and getting closer.  Easy to tell this.  See the flash and start counting seconds.  One-one-thousand, two-one-thousand, three-one-thousand…  Six seconds to the mile.  Not much worry until the strikes are within three miles.  That seemed to happen pretty quick.  Still four miles to go, and the sky was black, and the lightning was hitting within a mile.  Time to give it all I had…

“How was it?”  Harry asked.

I paused and thought about it, then I replied,  “It was great!”

Friday Follies ~~ The View From the Top

A road bike was a major discovery for me.  At the time I lived in a mountainous region.  Climbing hills on my old Schwinn monster was more than a chore, it was almost impossible.  A bike with ten gears was an amazing thing.  Funny to think that now.  By today’s standards, that ten speed was geared way too high.  But it was such an improvement over what had gone before!

Gradually I extended my range.  I roved out into the countryside.  I went farther and farther.  Of course, I never approached the mountains on that bike.  That is, I didn’t approach them until I entered a race.  That race was a major learning experience.  The single lap that we Cat 4s had to do was about 35 miles long.  But it went right up the side of the Massanutten Mountain, down the other side, and thence into the town of Luray, before turning around.

I did a miserable job in that race.  I sort of stayed with the pack, until we hit the climb.  Then I got spit out the back.  I’d almost made it to the top of the climb before the lead riders were coming back the other way.  And when I tried descending that thing…  Terror doesn’t come close to describing my state.

To say I was challenged would be to put it mildly.  I was determined.  These other guys all seemed to do the climb fairly well.  What did they know that I didn’t?

I learned.  I got so I could climb.  I couldn’t stay with the real climbers, but I could hang.  Some of that was learning techniques.  Some of it was in gaining fitness and strength.  Some of it was in acquiring better equipment.  I learned, and grew, and got better.

Then I got cocky.

Once I learned how to handle mountain descents, I had fun on them.  That was enough to lure me to go climb mountain roads at the any opportunity.

It was a fairly modest ride.  We planned to start from home, and ride over through Waynesboro, then up onto the Blue Ridge Parkway, and south to the visitor’s center at Humpback Rocks.  There was a great hiking trail, leading up onto the top of the rocks.  It debouched onto the top of the formation through a narrow defile.  I’d always loved the place.  It was high, with an unobstructed view to the west, out over the Shenandoah Valley.

We rode out there, did the climb up the side of the mountains, out of Waynesboro, and the big rollers south to “The Rocks.”  There were several of us, and cyclists were not that common in the area in those days of yore.

We locked our bikes up, and climbed the trail up to the top of the huge outcropping.  We sat in the warm late afternoon sun, eating our picnic, and watching the hawks glide, and the sun slowly slide down the sky.

At some point, we all decided that it would be fun to watch the sunset, from up there on the rocks.  We were rewarded with a spectacular light show.

At first the trip back down wasn’t bad.  The long lingering twilight helped us.  But we were stumbling around, and groping in the dark, long before we got down to the visitor’s center.

The trip north on the Parkway wasn’t too bad.  It was a weekday night, and there was not much traffic.  A fairly large moon, only a bit past full, helped light the way.  But then came the descent.

With the modern light systems we now have, night time mountain descending requires care and thought.  In that day, such lighting as was available, was far from adequate to the task.  But that didn’t matter.  None of us had anything like a light on our bikes.  I might add that the brakes of the late ‘60s were not much to brag on either.

That descent was, in a word, harrowing.  That none of us crashed is a small miracle.  As we entered the lights and bustle of the small town of Waynesboro, a bit of sanity broke out.  We all swallowed our pride, and called for rides.

But you know what?  I want to do it again.  I’d love to do that trip with a modern bike and good, strong dependable lights.  But more, I’d do it again with the primitive equipment we had then.  Just to be there, to see the sun go down from that height, to live through it all...  I’d happily do that again.