Friday Follies ~~ Lanterne Rouge

Somebody has to be last.

It took me a while to discover that I was an endurance athlete.  That’s another way of saying that I wasn’t particularly fast, but I could keep going a lot longer than most.

Remember kids games?  Most of them are based on acceleration.  I didn’t have acceleration.  I got picked last for a lot of games.  But then I started noticing something.  I could wear a lot of the other kids down.  There is this idiotically mean game that kids play.  Keep Away.  As a game it’s just good fun, much like tag.  In fact, I made my discovery during tag games.

Before I hit on a strategy, I spent a lot of time as “It.”  But one day I had an inspiration.  Rather than run after any kid who was nearby, and not catch him, I picked out one kid in particular.  No matter who else was around, I ran after that kid.  If the kid went to “Base.” I stood there waiting for him.  At first my target would easily out run me.  But with time, he got slower, winded, and eventually, I caught him.

How does that relate to the tormenting kind of Keep-Away?  You remember that one?  Some kid runs up and grabs your hat, your book, your glasses, something of value to you.  The kid then taunts you.  If you get close, the kid tosses the object to another kid.  With a combination of agility and acceleration, the gang can keep the “slow kid”  (me) in a state of amusing torment for a long time.

I learned to apply my Tag strategy to this situation.  Rather than chasing after my belonging, I went after the leader of the pack.  Eventually, I’d catch him, and then I’d wail the living daylights out of him until he had his confederates return my property.  After a while they stopped picking on me.

When it came to running, I was absolutely never ready for any race that I ever ran for the first time.  The 880 was a shock.  It started fast and I got left behind.  My first Mile was just as bad.  Same thing with the two mile and the 5K.  But I learned.  If the race was long enough, I could win it.

When I discovered competitive cycling, I had a bit of an epiphany.  It took me a while to discover that I was a sprinter.  (Sprinting in cycling is about power.  Power, correctly applied, yields acceleration.)  The thing was, I wasn’t a great sprinter.  Worse, I happen to be possessed of a large body.  In the best shape that I ever achieved, I was a good 30 pounds heavier than the climbers.  If there were hills on the course (and there always were!) I lost.

I’ve mentioned elsewhere, there was a time in my life when many other things occupied me.  I did what a lot of men do in their early 30s.  I got heavy and out of shape.  It took a long time to come back from that.  The first time I rode in an organized century, the parking lot was all but empty when I finished.

My second century was better and worse.  Better because I was in a bit better shape and better prepared for it.  Worse in that the route was very hilly, and…

Well, I started out well.  I was passed by a lot of folks, but there were a lot more behind me.  I found people I could ride with…  For a while.  Then they dropped me.  As the day wore on, there were fewer and fewer people around me or in sight.  Then came the time when I was alone.

That ride route had regular rest stops.  They were almost exactly 20 miles apart.  There were only three other riders at the last stop when I got there.  They left as I pulled in.  The rest stop worker was nice to me, but she was taking the stop apart, and was obviously impatient to leave.  I saw no one else for the next 20 miles.  That last leg was one of the longest I’ve ever done.  It took a geologic interval for me to get to the end of it.  When I finally did, there were three people there, event workers.  They applauded in a desultory fashion, and then they gave me two slices of cold pizza and a warm soda.

“You’re the last one in,”  one of them said.  “Somebody has to be.”

Back in the early history of cycling, when “bicycle” meant a “high-wheeler,” things were not as they are now.  At that time, steam locomotive powered railroads were the absolute height of technology, speed, and power.  This railroad technology was still somewhat primitive.  The last car on a train would have a red lamp, or “lanterne rouge” displayed.  This did two things.  It allowed engineers of following trains to realize there was a train ahead.  Just as important, the conductors of trains would look for the red light on their own train to make sure that no couplings had come undone.  When big time bicycle racing started, in the very early 20^th century, it was natural for commentators to refer to the last rider in a tour or race as “the caboose,” or the “lanterne rouge.”

Thursday Thoughts: Seasonal Rites

Some cyclists really enjoy warm, even hot weather.  (I’m one of them!)  Others relish (or say they do) the cooler seasons of the year.  I’ve noted that often the Heat-seekers find that “it’s too hot to ride.”  The converse is just as true for the Heat-Avoiders.  They too seem to disappear when the temp drops down into the low 40s.

It is a fact, we all have some range in which we are comfortable.  This range can be extended with technical support, but for each and every one of us, there is a set of conditions that are unacceptable.

If there is one article of clothing that truly marks a cyclist as dedicated it would be a pair of tights.  The purchase of a pair of tights is a commitment.  The “inexpensive” ones are not cheap.  The good ones are expensive.  The types that are made for extreme conditions are insanely expensive.  (Note:  In this context “extreme” means  temps below 20 degrees F, with gusting wind, and usually some amount of precipitation.)  The expenditure necessary to acquire tights just about forces the buyer to use them.  Buying a pair of tights is committing to riding in suboptimal conditions.

Arm warmers don’t do this.  Wind vests and jackets don’t do it.  There are lots of riders out there who extend the year with these lighter garments, but most of them seem to disappear before Thanksgiving, migrating to wherever it is that Summer Cyclists go for the Winter.  Tights, on the other hand, seem to really mean something.

Tights tend to define things.  Only the more dedicated riders own and wear them.  They mark two seasonal shifts.  In the Spring there is the First Ride Without Tights.  In the Autumn there is the First Ride In Tights.  Some folks always rush the season, at both ends.  One sees riders out in tights in the earl Fall, on sunny days with temps in the low 70s.  In the early Spring there are always those who decide to go bare-legged on cloudy days just above 40 degrees.

In both cases, the decision to use, or abandon tights is a commitment.  It says,  “I am here.  I am riding.  I will not be stopped.”  For some it’s an emotional decision.  Others operate on cold rational calculus.  But either way, once tights are donned, or abandoned, a choice is made, and a course is set.

It is now November.  Our climate is doing just exactly what it should be doing.  The first cold snaps are arriving.  Its time to put on the tights.

Ride Report: Mid-Fall Celebration Night Ride

“Did anybody see a guy on a horse with a pumpkin!”

“Hey!  It’s really dark out here!”

“This is great!”

“Do not say the word that starts with R!”

Eight of us met in Hollonville to do the annual Mid-Fall (Samhain) Celebration Night Ride.  I love this one.  It’s Fall.  It’s dark.  It’s a real “Sleepy Hollow” ride.

Before I go any farther, I’d like to make an observation, in the form of a question.  Has anyone else noticed that Flat Shoals Road is uphill in both directions?

Speaking of hills…  It’s an interesting phenomenon, hills don’t seem to be so bad at night.  Perhaps this is because we can’t see them ahead, can not see how tall they are, can’t anticipate how long or how bad the hill will be.

All that said, there were eight of us, and everyone was grinning at the start.  There would be no moon during the time we would be out, and the sky was completely overcast.  Add to that, the country we rode through is more remote, less populated.  It was dark out!

We saw very little traffic, and what little we encountered treated us well, gave us a good respectful amount of room.

We proceeded out of Hollonville and down to Concord with little trouble.  This part of the ride was more quiet, as folks were warming up to the ride.  By the time we left Concord there were conversations and laughter going on throughout the group.

Eventually we got down into Flat Shoals Road.  Just after crossing the Flint River, we climbed a bit and then made the turn onto Covered Bridge Road.  From that turn it is three and a half miles of unpaved road.  The road surface varied from good firm easy hard pack , to gravel covered somewhat sketchy, washboard.  I will state here that everyone present was on some kind of road bike, and no one burst into flames, or crashed, on the dirt road part of the ride.  Some of the less experienced got a bit quiet, but all made it through this ordeal with flying colors.  Some of us (most) were laughing and joking all the way along this section.

The dirt road part of this ride is wonderful.  You can’t see a light anywhere.  There are no illuminated houses, no dogs, and no cars!

The weather cooperated with us marvelously too.  It was cool, but not cold, and everyone seemed to have dressed exactly right for the conditions.  Yes, we experienced an occasional drop of moisture falling from the sky, but the rain waited until we finished the ride!

Present were Jim, Kelvin, Dan, Travis, Courtenay, Scott, Chris,  and your correspondent.  Two of our group had not done this ride before.  Six of us were repeaters.  Interesting thing that.  Seems like there actually are folks (other than me) who actually enjoy this kind of challenge.

I love the night, and had a great time with this group.  I’d do it again tomorrow, and the comments I got seemed to echo that sentiment.

P.S.  For those detail oriented among us...
Distance:  32.5 miles
Time:  2:29
Rolling Average:  13.0 mph

Your First Three Years ~ Part 14:

Dealing with Fear

A Guide for Beginner (and Experienced!) Cyclists, to the Art and Practice of Cycling.  Becoming Proficient, Fit, and Happy on your bike.

Fear is a part of our makeup.  There are all kinds of things that we fear.  Some fears are rational, such as the fear of falling off of the roof while cleaning the gutters.  Other fears are irrational, such as the dread of the monster that hides under the bed.  In both cases there are tactics for comprehending fear, dealing with it, and removing it.

Cyclists face fear.  I’m not talking about the fear of falling over on the bicycle.  Presumably, if you have read this far, you’ve managed to get past that one.  But there are other fears. 

We can break things down into two categories.  There is the anxiety kind of thing.  We’re afraid we won’t be able to perform well, or that we’ll disappoint someone, or ourselves.  We’re afraid that someone will think we look strange, or that our riding will somehow be seen as frivolous.  There’s the “what if” variety of anxiety fear too.  “What if I have a flat?”  “What if the chain falls off?”  “What if I get lost?”

These anxiety fears can be dealt with.  First off, the center of anxiety related fears rarely materializes.  Second, with just a bit of easily attained training or preparation, anxieties can be resolved.  We can learn to repair a flat, deal with a derailed chain, bring a map or a GPS.  We can anticipate and take appropriate actions to prevent or minimize the situation we worry about.

But then there is the other kind of fear.  We’re talking about the 100 proof bottled in bond, FEAR now.  The kind that makes the pit of your stomach feeze, that puts that awful copper taste in your mouth.  The kind of fear that grabs you by the throat, glares into your eyes, and yells into your face  “I OWN YOU!!!”

What are we to make of this, and how do we deal with it?

It’s no secret that I often ride in traffic.  Sometimes it’s pretty heavy traffic.  On fairly frequent occasions I get asked,  “Aren’t you afraid?  There are so many really really bad, crazy drivers out there.”  I usually reply that no, I’m not often afraid.  I know what I’m doing,  I’m very conscious of my environment.  I ride assertively but not aggressively.  I look for the signs of drivers who are not well controlled.  I ride to always give myself an “out.”  Mostly I’m too busy to be afraid.

At that point in the conversation, I seem to get the facial expression that says,  “You are insane!”    Might I add, the very question, the one that asks,  “Aren’t you afraid?” says more about the questioner than it does about the situation.

But that said, it is rational to fear a close altercation with a motor vehicle.  The difference between a rational fear and panic is information, practice, and gradual acquisition of skills.  Learning to ride in traffic, and to do so well and safely removes a lot of the fear.

It starts with an admission of reality.  There is no such thing as an accident.  There are collisions and crashes.  But these things don’t “just happen.”  They are caused, and it usually takes the participation of more than one individual.

Safety does not come from armor.  It comes form avoidance.  Want a good statistical example?

Intuitively one should be safer (and therefore less fearful) whilst riding in, or driving an SUV.  Riding a bike should be dangerous.  But if one compares injuries and fatalities on a passenger miles traveled basis it become apparent that an SUV occupant is seven time more likely to be killed or injured than is a cylist.

It is healthy to consider the possible consequences.  But it is not healthy to harbor a morbid fear of them.  Just like the anxiety cases we mentioned above, training, preparation, gradual exposure in a controlled fashion, and good practice remove most of the causes of the “Big Fear.”

I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention where that kind of training could be had.

The Atlanta Bicycle Campaign sponsors and teaches classes in safe practical vehicular cycling.  For more information see This Site

Or pick up a copy of John Forester’s Effective Cycling .  Read it and see if this doesn’t make a lot of sense.

Ultimately knowledge is power, and knowledge removes fear.

                        

Next Week: Goals?  Next Season Starts NOW

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This series began with the post on Tuesday, 19 June 2012.  It is intended to continue for three years.  Each week, we will discuss exercises, skills, practices, and activities designed to bring the new (or “experienced”) rider a high level of cycling competence.  We’ll address common problems, and (always) stress safe practice.

~//~

A Note on Timing:  This series uses Mid-June as the starting point of the “Cyclists Year.”  We do this because this is the time that most folks decide to start riding.  If you are following this guide, you can “adjust” the timing to fit your personal “first three years.”  Do note that some of the posts will concern weather and seasonal changes.  When that starts to happen, just swap the “months” around to fit your personal timeline.

Cold Feet

On or off the bike, my feet get cold in October, and they stay that way until sometime in May.

I’m not talking about “cold feet” as a synonym for cowardice.  I mean my feet are cold.  It’s not intolerable cold, just a sate of not being warm.  It gets worse as soon as I go outside, and even more so as soon as I saddle up.

This isn’t a particularly age-related thing.  My feet, and to a lesser degree, my hands get cold quickly.  Advancing age has only aggravated the situation.

To this add, on the bike, our hands and feet are out in the wind.  More, our bike pedals are most excellent “heat sinks.”  They are made from good metals that conduct heat very well.  Add to that, cycling shoes are not well insulated.

Even Winter cycling boots, which I most certainly do use, are not all that great for this kind of thing.  Here’s a question.  Why doesn’t somebody make a cycling equivalent of my Wolverines?  Honestly, in the colder months I’m not all that concerned with going fast.  Trust me on this; no one is as fast in cold weather.  I am rather more interested in getting there, and doing so without incurring a cold injury.

In recent years I’ve developed a different standard for cold weather rides.  If someone asks,  “How was the ride?” to a large extent my answer will be based on the “Foot Chill Scale.”

The Foot Chill Scale (FCS) is the result of a complex set of interactions.  Basically it works as follows.

Feet Warm = Excellent!

Feet cool = Okay

Feet Moderately cold = Not Bad

Feet Cold = So-So

Feet Very Cold = Could have been better

Feet Extremely Cold = Not Ideal

Toes Hurt From Cold = It sucked

Toes Numb and Feet Hurt = Rotten stinking I HATE IT!

Ride discontinued and medical help summoned due to cold injury of feet =  (Fill in blank with appropriate profanity)

The problem with the FCS is that it is a rating of the result of an action.  It doesn’t predict a thing.

Here’s how it works.  I look at the weather forecast for the projected time and area of the ride.  I look outside.  I check the current temperature.  I read deep into the NOAA model data.  I check the winds aloft and the satellite overheads.  Once I’ve assembled all of that data, I consider carefully my options of liner socks, various thicknesses of insulating socks, chemical foot warmers, Winter cycling boots, boot covers, tights, leg warmers, jackets, gloves, hats, helmet covers, and wind shells.  Then I make a guess.

So, the FCS is a method of rating just how accurate my guessing is.  If I hit it right, if I manage to make an accurate prediction of the conditions and match my gear to them well, then I end up with a high FCS score.  That score is more a means of determining two things, 1)  That it is Winter and it is cold.  2) How well I am dealing with the situation.

I can usually avoid hypothermia.  I know how to keep the core temp up, and am most often successful at it.  Keeping hands and feet warm is the challenge.

Strike that.  My feet aren’t going to be warm.  Like I said, October to May, they’re cold.  Comfortable doesn’t apply either.  I like warm feet.  I must admit (with a sigh of resignation) my goal is to maintain the level of least discomfort.

What’s your Winter Challenge?

Friday Follies ~~ Fall Back

Of course this coming weekend is the one where we change our clocks.

As the old Indian said,  “You cut twelve inches off of the bottom of the blanket and sew it onto the top of the blanket.  Only the Government would think this makes a longer blanket.”

In the Spring you lose an hour, and in the Fall you gain an hour.  You can remember this by the old jingle,  “Spring Ahead and Fall Back.” 

That’s supposed to make it easier to remember what to do with the clock.  Right?  If it works for you, fine.  It only increases my confusion.

Possibly some of the trouble is with the Words themselves.  “Spring ahead.”  Well, if I’m  getting ahead, I’m doing it in less time and I’m getting earlier.  But we actually set the clocks so it’s later.  Just doesn’t make sense to me.

Then there’s the other part of the jingle.  “Fall back.”  To me a fallback is a prepared position to use if one is being overcome, or getting late, or if one cannot conclude the assigned task in the allotted time.  That just doesn’t agree well with intent of the thing.

I do know this.  The Earth is tilted and it orbits the Sun.  That gives us seasons.  It also changes the amount of daylight in a day.  Most days, I ride my bike in the morning and the evening.  In the Summer I ride in daylight at both ends of the day.  In the Winter, at least one of my rides occurs in the darkness.  Right around the Solstice (usually 21 December) both of my rides are apt to be in the dark..  These are physical facts.  They cannot be altered by governmental decree.

There is this about the return to Standard Time.  I’ll start my ride to work an hour warmer than has been the case, and I will start my ride home an hour cooler.  On balance, I’m just a bit warmer than I would be if we were still observing Saving Time.  The darker evening hours do tend to give a greater incentive for Spin Class.

Does anyone else feel like this whole time-change is an exercise in folly?

Thursday Thoughts: You are Very Special

Let’s look at some numbers.

Population of Earth = 7,100,000,000

Population Of the USA  = 314,685,167

So just by virtue of being an American, you are in a select group of 4.4% of the world population.

Over half of all Americans are obese to morbidly obese.

Most of you aren’t.  Congratulations!

There are about 2,500,000 cyclists in the USA.

If you are one of them, you are among 0.796% of the US population.

Athletic Cyclists (those who participate in some form of racing, tri-athletics, cyclocross, Velo, mountain biking, organized centuries, randonneuring, touring, etc.) account for about 15% of all cyclists.

If you are in that crowd,  you are in the top 0.12% of the US population.

That’s true even if you are always dead last in your event.

Baseball fans watch baseball.  Football fans watch football.  We have lots of sports fans in this country, but most of them are fans of spectator sports.  That is to say that they do not participate in the sport.  Sure there are exceptions, but on a population basis the rule is fans watch, and players do!

We who are fans of cycling are also, almost always participants in the sport.  We may not compete, but we do ride.