Photos From the Saddle

Tomorrow, the gauntlet begins. Granted, it’s a self-made gauntlet… restricted only by my own stubbornness. May is Bike to Work Month, which includes the commuter challenge. My goal is to ride every day, like last year, but to ride more miles… with the working plan of riding a full round-trip each day. 25 miles each way with a decent climb in the morning and two equally-decent climbs in the afternoon. As I’ve alluded to previously, my biggest concern is with muscle recovery. The biggest lesson I took away from last year’s effort was the unquestionable need to have a thorough recovery plan. Stretching, yoga, massage and acupuncture… should do the trick. Tomorrow is the beginning of another adventure.

The Double Cross is getting a good tuning tonight, and hopefully even getting the new fork thrown on. I decided that the Reynolds fork was just a wee bit too light and floppy. Front brakes are meant to be used, right? So I went with the matching steel fork, which I have no doubt I’ll love. The added weight? Extra training, that’s all.

A couple of random thoughts from the past couple days: I saw a tandem recumbent being kicked along the trail by an older couple, complete with improvised sun shades sticking out around their helmets, making them look like miniature, matching UFOs floating above a moving cloud of dayglo yellow. In addition, I discovered that I apparently have a doppelganger… who also has a Soma Double Cross, also wears knickers (Hypnotic Designs in his case), works at the same place and lives in the same end of town as I. Freakin weird.

On the train this morning, the conductor announced “Good morning everyone. It has come to our attention that there is a red car in the parking garage with its lights on. As the train will be leaving in one minute, if the red car is yours, I’m sorry to present you with such a dilemma… but you can either catch the next train or get a jump tonight. One minute, everyone. All aboard!” A collective groan sounded amongst the passengers, but schadenfreude quickly turned it into chuckling at the conductor’s humorous approach to the matter.

While perusing YouTube today, I came across this lovely gem:

I’ve rocked out to that song more than a few times while riding, so it felt like an appropriate pairing.

Tomorrow begins, as a friend put it, “The Month of Pain”… here’s to following the seam home every day:

The weekend was a welcoming party of sorts, greeting and stepping aside for Spring to enter. Granted, it rained a bit yesterday and today—amusingly, not too long after evil-neighbor finished washing her car. But it is Spring, after all… rain is to be expected. In any case, the first couple of decent (weekend) days inspired just about everyone to get out. It was awesome riding weather, that’s for sure. On my way back into town Saturday, I noticed the above Univega propped against the wall. No lock, two flat tires. I wonder how long it will continue to sit there.

The fit went well–pretty much what I was expecting to hear and have adjusted. While out riding, I could definitely feel the new position… especially in my shoulders. I’ll be interested to see how that pans out. I also skipped the impromptu ride earlier in the morning. Mixed feelings on that… I really wanted to go, and I suspect it was a phenomenal ride. However, my body needed some time out of the saddle.

It’s funny: over the past week, I’ve been considering the nagging feeling of guilt for driving “a lot” this month. I’m guessing that the miles driven number will be somewhere around 500, which is significantly higher than past months. Granted, about 120 of those miles were put on the car by someone else… but as far as I’m concerned, it still counts since it’s my car that was used. I’ve been trying to put it into perspective and considering the amount of driving I did before; the amount that my friends and family drive; the amount my coworkers drive. 500 miles seems pretty small, comparatively, and I’m still way below where I should be if I were to drive my “working goal” of only 8,000 miles this year.

Still, I’ve gotten into the habit of asking myself a variety of questions, such as: “Do I need to run this errand? Can I do it on a bike? If not, could I postpone it until I can lump it in with another known errand? Could I bum a ride from friends who are also going there?” and so on. So far, it’s worked out pretty well. Dunno if I’ll sell my car anytime soon… but it’s definitely something I’m considering.

The weather yesterday evening was perfectly Spring… that smell, that muted warmth, that hopeful green. Going out for a ride around the neighborhood was nearly blissful.

I felt like putting in some miles after work yesterday since I hadn’t commuted by bike. While out, I decided to take pictures of all the flags I saw blowing in the wind. It’s funny how much you notice things when you start looking for them… and there were a fair number of people flying more than one flag, which was pretty cool to see. The ride ended up being precisely what I was aiming for, though it was still a bit chilly and breezy. Can’t win ‘em all just yet, I suppose.

Riding to the station this morning, I caught up to a guy on a Fuji Track bike that was set up as a commuter singlespeed. We chatted a little before parting ways, and it sounded like he had a pretty straightforward commute across town–one that was well suited to the bike. It made me ponder the One Way, yet again.

The afternoon commute was glorious, with plenty of sunshine and a light breeze. Granted, it was just in the upper 50’s (maybe 60), but it was still awesome from the ground up. It’s just a matter of time ’til the bugs come out in earnest and I (inevitably) get stung again. I can wait on that.

I was also inspired to stop by the watering hole for a pint on the way home. While there, one of the owners commented, “Finally nice enough for a half-way decent bike ride, huh?”, to which I replied “Indeed… patience pays off eventually, especially when it comes to seasons.” He chuckled, “Patience is a virtue many aspire to but few have.” “True,” I said, “But with the weather, I don’t really have a choice but to be patient.”

Time and place seem to’ve gotten together and worked something nice out for me, as I’ll be joining up with some friends for an impromptu (and hilly) metric century tomorrow morning… hopefully finishing up just in time for my 1 o’clock bike fit appointment that’s just down the road from where the ride ends. Bike fit is a fascinating matter to me, one that involves all kinds of perspectives, beliefs, gadgetry, etc., and I can’t help but get one done every year or so just to learn a few things here and there.

Been pleased to see that the Argyle Armada doing so well in TdG, and it cracks me up how much attention DZ’s bitchin’ ’stache gets.

I spent most of my day thinking about those few seconds. About how the bike felt. About how I’d ended up at that place at that time. About decisions and the moments in which they were made. I spent most of my day thinking about how close I’d come to ending up in the hospital.

Quite honestly, everything was the result of my own stupidity. I was going too fast, especially considering that the roads were wet. In hindsight, I suspect I was just excited that I’d had a run of green lights down the hill (as opposed to the usual red light every block). In any case, it was bad judgment and I’m damn lucky it wasn’t any worse than it was.

I suspect I was going about 25 to 30. I was nearing the bottom of a hill after a string of green lights; there weren’t any cars ahead of or behind me. The light at the intersection at the bottom of the hill was also green… and as I neared it, on the final half-block of downhill, the light changed to yellow.

Immediately, I was on my brakes, as I was too far to make it through the yellow. I started to slow… but not fast enough. The roads were wet and my brakes were barely useful. And then, just a fraction of a second later, either I hit some loose gravel or my rear brake locked up on the pavement… either way, I began to skid and fishtale. A fraction of a second later, I could sense my bike’s back end, which was drifting to the left behind me, start to angle out… My back end was going to slide out from beneath me, and I was going to go down.

I let go of my brakes and hoped that inertia would correct my mistakes. I recall that the light was red as I entered the intersection… I was going through, or I was going down.

I am extraordinarily fortunate that I didn’t end up in the hospital today. I am extraordinarily fortunate that, because of my mistakes and bad judgment, nobody was hurt. No property was damaged. Nobody, other than me, hit their brakes.

I am, however, disappointed with myself for making such a bad decision. I also regret making an extremely bad example of myself—I’ve been trying to ride as a model cyclist, stopping at all intersections and obeying the laws. In this case, I didn’t… and I got lucky.

I spent most of the day pondering the fractions of seconds and how I’d narrowly avoided what would’ve been an extremely bad fall or an extremely bad accident.

Dear Spring,

I know you didn’t get the last letter, because I didn’t send it. I thought it’d just be best to leave that unsaid. But for fuck’s sake… this is getting old. Snow? In the third week of April? What the fuck? Get a punching bag or a fidget stone. Drink some Kava. Whatever. Just make up your mind already.

Sincerely,

Me

What was that, above, became this within a matter of minutes…

I couldn’t help but laugh when the clerk at the grocery store asked me “Did you see the snow today?” and I couldn’t say anything but “Yes, yes I did.”

Granted, it was snow/rain… or “snain,” as some would say. But still.

It’s funny—As of late, I’ve been thinking more about my recovery tactics than riding itself. Yoga? Massage? Acupuncture? Hot tubs? Epsom salt baths? All of those as much as possible? I’m not worried about the high mileage each day; it’s the recovery that’s going to be paramount.

Camped out on a friend’s couch yesterday to watch Paris-Roubaix. Two hours of coverage, with commercials, is just embarrassing. The results I knew… I was just hoping to see maybe something a little extra, like seeing Maggy’s or Georgie’s wheels explode. Oh well. C’est La Vie.

There’s something satisfying in that.

I’ve been contemplating my riding options as of late–while there are many things that I want to love about the One Way, I have to admit that there are numerous problems. I’ve taken steps to repair and/or replace the sources of the problems, however I have to ask myself whether or not it’s worth it. I’m much more comfortable on the Double Cross, that much I know–but do I sacrifice it to the rigors of everyday commuting? I keep reminding myself of various points of views I’ve heard over the years… that it’s just a bike, a tool to be used; that a bike is a work of art, a beautiful machine that’s to be loved and treated with care; that parts are going to inevitably need replacing, tuning, truing and accepting that is the first part of bike ownership; that serious bike ownership requires acceptance of the “stable” or “quiver” perspective–there’s a bike (a tool) that fits a job better than others. Finding a happy middle ground between all those points is the tricky part. I’m considering my options.

Fortunately I was able to bend the flapper back into place and ride (gingerly) back home. Also fortunate is that it snapped on the trailing side, otherwise I’m sure I’d have greater concerns on my hands beyond just replacing a chain.

Things have been pretty mellow this week. Got things rolling on the new wheels today, though… which is slightly ironic, given that by riding the One Way today, my general displeasure with the bike increased. On the flip side, another coworker asked me about riding steel and expressed interest in switching over to it. That’d be the third convert in a year.

P.S. I’m fairly certain that whoever came up with Citrus Oolong tea (aka Cedrat) is pretty much rad.

P.P.S. To the sole individual who arrived at this site via the search “david zabriskie moustache gives power”, I commend you and wish you well on your search.

It would’ve been much sooner–that’s what the plan had been. Sit on his wheel the whole climb, until the last hairpin. He’ll be listening. He always does. Breathing, cadence, shifters. At the hairpin, he always stands; as soon as he moved to sit back down, jump.

As coincidence had it, a Jeep was right behind us and moving to pass. So when the Jeep went by, I passed him and cranked with everything I had. The Jeep’s driver noticed this and, to my amusement, watched me in his rear view mirror while gesturing for me to follow him. I did my best to do so.

A few minutes later, we turned onto what I consider to be just as difficult of a “climb”, but in a different way. Where the “Little Euro” hill is a romantic climb on a one-way road, filled with blind turns, a solid tree canopy and a decent grade… this second climb is a prolonged deception. I once remarked to G that I disliked this second climb more than the first. For one, it’s along a busy two-lane road and barely has a shoulder. For another, it suckers you into thinking it’s not that steep, so you crank away blindly and bonk three-quarters of the way up it, right when the grade increases. On top of that, your legs are still a bit burned from Little Euro. I’m growing to love it, though… precisely for the reasons I used to hate it.

I felt fresh on that second climb and decided to repeat the earlier plan… sit on his wheel, jump near the crest. Traffic hampered the effort again… but I found a pocket and cranked by him, hammering all the way up to the top. To be honest, I know that he let me go both times. And I’m okay with that–I pushed myself beyond a threshold that I’d yet to break. Apparently I ride more competitively with a partner to egg me on. Go figure.

Anyway, we were enjoying one of the first really sunny days of Spring. Earlier in the ride, we’d both agreed that it was days like that that made riding through the winter worth it–anybody can ride on a warm sunny day, but even the mildly nice days are a hundred times greater when you’ve dealt with rain, snow, wind and darkness for months on end.

Today is going to be an even nicer day: forecasted to be above 70, with plenty of sun. As G predicted, 80% of western-Washingtonians will be outside working on their yards or playing in the sun today. I’d say that’s an underestimate.

A random musing to wrap this rambling up: while watching the epic Bayern Munich v. Getafe game at the pub (nice work Getafe), I noticed no fewer than seven bike commuters pass by. It made me smile.

Oh, and may I add that it’s just not fair that I’m going to miss Arsenal v. Man U and The Queen because of prior commitments? WTF.

Today marked my one-hundredth consecutive day of riding. 100 days, 100 rides. No wonder my bikes are creaking, ticking and wobbling for mercy. Unfortunately, I was running a little behind this morning; otherwise I would’ve ridden all the way in… it was totally gorgeous out. I made a feeble attempt to make up for the missed opportunity by riding home and couldn’t help but smile the whole way.