Obstinate

Sometimes stubborn is a survival trait.  Cycling can be that way.  The bike, and riding have a way of fighting back.  Cold, dark, and weather can nibble at us.  So here are a few words to live by.

“You don’t know when to give up.”

Winston Churchill:  “Never give in.  Never give in.  Never, never, never, never, give in!”

Don’t know how to quit.

Too dumb to know when you’re beaten.

A cyclist can always go another 10 miles.

The limit of human endurance has never been reached.

Go down fighting.

Carpe Diem!

A Winter Morning and Evening:

Saturdays are among my regular commuting days.  To begin with, I work in a retail business, so most Saturdays are workdays.

A morning ride to work, on a Winter Saturday morning is usually pleasant, in its own odd way.

I am not fond of cold weather, but it does have its charm.  Early morning rides, on clear days, often show the lawns and fields dressed in a bright glittering frost blanket.  There is little in the way of traffic about in these early morning hours, no busses, no frantic cell phone chattering mini-vans and SUVs loaded with Mom-and-kiddies on the way to school, no big noisy commercial vehicles.  In short, the roads and the world are quiet.

Gone now are the songbirds, and the morning hustle of a Summer Saturday.  The occasional lonely crow can be heard in the distance.  I always think of Winter when I hear the crows calling.

I’m a bit cold at the start of the ride in.  This is not a worry, as I know I am dressed correctly, and the coming hills will warm me wonderfully.

An amazing thing happens on the trip in.  As I pass the point that marks a third of the trip, I am warming up, the sun shines down on me and adds to that, and the frost just disappears.  The act of cycling gets me breathing deeply of the cold crisp air, the coffee kicks in, and the world seems to come into a sharp focus.  I’m ready for the day ahead.

After the Saturday workday, the homeward commute takes on a completely different nature.  It’s already dark before I get outside.  Lights and reflectors are a must.  Traffic, for the first third of this homeward journey, is frantic and frenetic.  Total focus and concentration are required.  But then, there is that turn, and that intersection.  These mark a boundary of some kind.  I’m out of the bustle.

That last, if longer, portion of the homeward ride is good.  Again, quiet settles.  I see the occasional deer.  I hear the coyotes and foxes singing as I drop through one particular valley.  My pace slows.  I’m tired, but it’s a good tired, one earned.  Somewhere ahead is light, and warmth, and good food, and a rest from the week.

This is one of the good places that the bike takes me.  The place where I am me, and I am at peace.

Friday Follies ~~ The Awesomeness of Going too Far

There is a scene in the Flying Scotsman where Graeme Obree is leading a club cycle race.  He approaches the end of the race, takes the first place at the finish, and sort of perplexes the gathered crowd, by not stopping.  He just keeps going, continuing his ride.

That’s certainly one way of going a bit too far.

What about the sense of getting in over one’s head?  There are others.

There is certainly something magical about the number 100.  “The Century.”  For each aspiring cyclist, there is a “First Century.”  The idea occurs, and it’s somewhat daunting.  “Can I do that?”  The new rider thinks.  It wasn’t that long ago that a ride of an hour was an epic of Homerian proportions. 

Some folks, when this mania takes them, approach it analytically.  They actually take advice, do research, and train for it.  They arrive at the day, toned up, rested, fueled, and riding the right bike.  It’s still a milestone, but somewhat anticlimactic.  They didn’t go too far.

There are others who show up for that “first 100,” in a somewhat different state.  One sees them among the folks in the parking lot.  They don’t look right.  They stand out.  There is something about them that says,  “Noob!”  Most of them actually do finish their first century, but with a feeling that the ride was maybe 20, 30, or 50 miles too long.  They finished on determination and sheer will.  Bravo!

On a slightly different note, there are some organized centuries that are not quite 100 miles long.  On occasion, one will see riders hit the end of one of these rides, and then declare,  “I need to go a bit farther.  I want to do a real 100 miles.”  And off they go, out for another 3 or 4 miles, just to round the thing off.  Sometimes they even take four or five laps around the parking lot, just to be sure.  What is it with that?  Wasn’t the ride good enough?  Why go farther than the end?  Is there some shamanic power to the number 528,000?  (If you are wondering, that’s the number of feet in one hundred statute miles.)

Some years ago, on a whim, I laid out a course, and proposed doing a “Nautical 100.”  That is riding a route that was 100 “knots” long.  A “nautical mile” is 6,080 feet.  So I laid out a course that was 115 miles and 800 feet long.  Too short to be called a “double metric,” and well over the “standard century.”  Oddly, I didn’t get any takers.

Some years ago, I was riding a tough brevet.  It was intentionally a hard course, mountainous, and challenging.  The event was a 400K.  That’s 400 kilometers, or about 250 miles.  The weather was not cooperative.  It was extremely windy, sometimes raining, and quite cold.   About half of the entrants withdrew, some of them at the start.

For those of us who stayed the course, there was a feeling of dizzy euphoria as we neared the finish.  It was dark, and there were snow flurries about.  Suddenly, with only about 400 yards to go, four of our members decided to sprint for the finish!  (It should be noted that brevets are not competitive events.  Finishing matters, but not who finishes first.)  One of these riders managed to pull out ahead of the other three, and then he went down, roll-blocking the others.  Bad crash.  Three of the four failed to finish the event.  Their injuries were bad enough to require medical transport.  Definitely a case of going to far, and not far enough.

Me?  No, I wasn’t among the sprint-finish crowd.  I limped in after them, happy to finish the event with an hour to spare before the allowed limit.  I already felt like I’d gone too far that day.

Thursday Thoughts: The “Lower Limit”

I have a set of very simple rules that make up my “lower limit.”  It’s a sort of go/no-go gauge that determines when I will refuse to ride.

• Temperature above limit?
• Sufficient  weather gear available for current and expected conditions?
• Sufficient Time to reach intended destination?
• Bicycle appropriate to intended activity available and in good repair?
•  
• If I can satisfy those parameters, then it’s a go.  If not, then I’m not riding.

The Mountain Bike Trail consideration:  I might add, that the weather requirements for off-road rides are a bit more stringent.  Riding mountain bike trails in heavy rain is a poor idea in several ways.  Riding trails in hard rain is damaging to the trail.  For that matter, wet weather mountain biking presents some significant dangers to the rider.

Be Prepared!

Preparation is the key difference between a Winter of missed opportunities, and one spent riding comfortably and frequently.  Learn what your “limits” are, and then prepare to meet them.

When in doubt…  Go!

I’ve seen it happen countless times.  The conditions are almost right, but there is a possibility of a negative change.  In the face of that, riders often cancel, only to later see the day turn out well.  If the situation isn’t below one’s minimums, and isn’t rapidly changing for the worse, go for it.  Most times this works well.

But what if I go, and it turns really bad?

Good question!  There are about four possibilities.

1)  The “False Alarm.”  We got ready, and went to meet the ride, but things were just too bad at ride time.  Okay.  Cancel and go home.  There’s no shame in this, and you were ready, and if it had stayed inside your limits, you would have had a ride.  This beats the stew out of sitting at home on a day when you could have ridden, and will happen a lot less frequently than you would think.

2)  The “Early Lousy.”  The ride has started, in questionable conditions, and then things get worse, a lot worse.  Okay.  Admit it, and turn back.   No harm done.  So you get back to the car (or home) a bit sodden and chilled.  You will live to ride another day, and you have a good story to tell.

3)  The “Classic Murphy.”  It was a “maybe,” but you went.  You’ve now gotten as far away from the start as you could possibly be, at the exact midpoint of the route, and suddenly conditions turn vicious.  It’s time to make a decision.  Continue, or pull the plug?  If you decide that you can continue, do so promptly.  If you are going to terminate the thing, find shelter, and call for help.  It happens.  Better luck next time.  (I seem to get into one of these “bail out” situations about once every year.)

4)  The “Nasty Ending.”  You made it through ¾ of the ride (or more) before it all went sour.  Well?  You’re in it now.  Go ahead and get it done.  Finish.  You might consider taking a shortcut, but just ride it out.

Have Faith in Yourself:  You are far more resourceful, and capable than you know.  And each situation that you encounter improves your knowledge and experience. Establish a reasonable set of parameters to guide you, and then believe in them.

What experiences have you had that left you battered, but not beaten?

The Commuter Bike Project: Ride Report

Last week, as regular readers know, I finished up the Repurposed Bike.  I now have a heavy commuter in the stable.  I also have enough time on it to form some good solid impressions.

I took the beast out for an (unloaded) test-ride of a bit over 20 miles.  Then I followed that up with a round trip commute.  So far so good!  So on Saturday, I rode the new bike in to work, used it to lead the regular Saturday morning recreational ride, and then rode it home.  The commuting trips were pretty well loaded too.

First impressions:  This bike is not as light as I had envisioned, but it is a bit lighter than my tourist.  So it qualifies for the “light-weight” part of the intention.  It’s fun to ride, and that’s all to the good.  The dropVee levers, coupled with the Shimano V-Brakes are amazing!  The gearing is good.  (Good and low!)  The fenders still need a bit of tweaking.  I’m less than thrilled with the wheel bearings, but I’ll rebuild those and set that right.

The high volume Giant 700 X 28 tires are nice and cushy.  They roll quite nicely, and take the rough stuff in stride.  That helps to smooth out the jolt from hitting the rough stuff with a heavily loaded bike.  The ancient Brooks Professional saddle is going to take some breaking in, but so far, I like it.

One interesting impression:  It takes a bit to get this rig going, especially when loaded up for a Fall/Winter commute, but once moving, it has a sort of “steam-roller effect.”  It rolls right along, and feels like it will keep doing so forever.  Hills are a bit of a challenge, but the gearing is right for pushing a big load over them.  It’s work, but not unpleasant work.

With fenders, rain cap, and such, I can hardly wait for the right conditions.  I know it sounds ludicrous, but I’m looking forward to riding this rig in on a chilly, rainy morning.

Loss of Signal

Cell phones are wonderful devices.  I won’t spend a lot of time extolling their virtues, but take it as a given, a cell phone is amazing, and potentially a life-saver.

That’s the primary reason I carry one when I’m riding.  It’s a security device.  It’s good to know that help is only a few button presses away.

On the other hand, the stinkin’ things can be incredibly annoying, and even dangerous.

I’m sometimes appalled to see what some folks are willing to do on a bike.  Talking on a phone, receiving (or worse sending) texts are high on the list.

I usually keep my phone on, and with me.  I will not carry it in a convenient jersey pocket.  That’s downright dangerous.  So when I get a call, or hear that text tone, I have to stop the bike, and fumble around to get it out.  (That’s very much by design.)

Three successive calls or four successive texts, and I “go dark.”

Let’s face it, when we are riding on the road, we are part of the traffic.  But we are the part that is most vulnerable and least protected.  Becoming distracted, or disabling one of our senses is pretty dangerous.  Better to leave the phone off, or get off the road to answer it, and leave the music player and the earbuds at home too.

How do you all deal with this?

The “I need more Stuff! Syndrome”

Before we begin, a few “Program Notes” are in order.

NOTE 1:  Christmas Lights Road Ride

Monday, 19 December @ 7:00 P.M.  (See the SSCC calendar)

NOTE 2:  Christmas Lights Path Ride

Wednesday, 21 December @ 7:00 P.M. (See the SSCC calendar)

NOTE 3:  Annual Penance 100+

Sunday, 1 January @ 7:00 A.M. (sharp!) (See the SSCC calendar)

Now on to the business at hand…

Cyclists are an interesting lot.  They come in all shapes and sizes, with a huge variety of interests, riding styles, and motivations.  For the purposes of this post, I’m making a distinction between “cyclists” and “people who ride a bicycle.”  The former is a bit of a nut on the subject.  The latter is someone who uses a bicycle for occasional recreational purposes.  Included among the nut/cyclist group are the “fast recreational riders”  (read fake racers), competitive cyclists (folks who actually enter sanctioned races), tri-athletes, commuters, transportation cyclists, utility cyclists, tourists, randonneurs, athletic riders, urban free-riders, track cyclists, street fixie riders, and other “enthusiasts.”

One of the more common attributes of this class of bicycle riders is the constant nagging feeling that the acquisition of just one more piece of gear, another bike, one more bike, or some such would be the magic item that would catapult that cyclist from a mediocre existence into some all- transcendent glory.  We tend to believe (often fueled by very slick marketing hype) that if we just got that one more gadget or bike, or gizmo, we’d finally achieve cycling nirvana.

For some folks the syndrome takes the form of a longing, nay need, to have the coolest (however that rider defines “cool”) possible ride.  The object of desire may be the neatest multitool, or the mostest trickest cyclocomputer (the one with all the bells and whistles), or the most superb groupset, or better weather clothing.  It doesn’t matter what it is (the it will be constantly changing), the thing is that rider feels that it simply must be acquired to fulfill the whole experience.

Following this obsession can lead to truly astonishing behaviors.  Houses are remodeled to accommodate the “bicycle room.”  Relationships are neglected.  Budgets are destroyed.

It should be noted that not all cyclists are subject to this particular obsession.  There are those occasional curmudgeons, who insist that they have achieved perfection, whilst riding a 35 year old Raleigh 10-speed, tastefully decorated in dings, scratches, encrusted dried lubricants, and rust.  We’ll treat them in some future post.

I must confess, I am sometimes prone to this affliction.  I’ve acquired, with the best of intentions, a fair number of bicycles, and a prodigious amount of weather clothing.  I can justify some of this as “research.”  Often a particular acquisition is in the nature of an “experiment,” and becomes material for posts here, and for advice elsewhere.  Sometimes, I look back and wonder,  “What was I thinking when I got that?”

What’s your most valuable “stuff” acquisition?  And what’s the most useless or strange item you’ve purchased in the never-ending quest for cycling perfection?

The I need more Stuff Syndrome as applied to baggage:

A slightly different manifestation of the INMS Syndrome occurs when the rider prepares for a ride.  How much, and what kind, of Stuff should be carried along on a given ride?  It’s a real multivariable problem of a question, with an extremely large solution set.  Factors include (but are not limited to) 1)  Where is the ride?  2) How long is it?  3)  Who is going to be there?  4) What level of support can be expected?  5) What season is it?  6)  Day or night?  7) What’s the weather forecast? 8) Which bike am I taking?  9) How much do I think I might need?

What Stuff are we talking about here?  A partial listing follows:

• Water
• Food!
• Tools
• Spare tube(s)
• Patch kit
• Pump
• Spare parts
• Lights
• Rain jacket
• Sunscreen
• First aid supplies
• Navigational equipment (maps, GPS, etc.)
• Phone
• Camera
• Video camera
• Reflective clothing
• Additional protective clothing (jackets, vests, gloves, etc.)
• Sunglasses
• Mirrors
• More food!
• Money
• I.D.
• Credit cards
• Firearms (seriously?)
• Pepper spray
• More water
• More tools
• Spare tire
• “Civilian clothing”
• More spare parts!
• Specialty tools

I like bags and means of carrying stuff by bike.  At core, I’m a transportation/utility rider and tourist.  The bike’s utility is greatly improved by adding the ability to carry stuff.  There are lots of ways to accomplish that mission, racks, trailers, bags, all have their uses.  But there’s a problem here.  The bigger the bag/rack/trailer, the greater the temptation to put more Stuff in it.

How do you deal with this?