Photos From the Saddle

I’ve had some ugly upper respiratory infection/ugliness going on for the past week, which effectively ruled out the possibility of riding. Nothing like instigating a coughing fit mid-way through a climb. Nevertheless, I decided to ride to the train yesterday. Almost immediately I realized it wasn’t the best of ideas, but stubbornness kept me rolling along. I certainly perfected my farmer’s blow technique on the way to the train.

Trued the rear wheel on my lunch break. I can’t think of a more meditative thing. That said, I’m a little perplexed as to how I managed to knock the rear wheel out of true and I suspect that I’m just cursed.

As I was about to roll out for the evening commute, G walked in to suit up for his ride. I hung around and waited for him, saying I’d ride with him to the second station down and catch the next train. As soon as we walked out the door, it became apparent we’d be dealing with a strong headwind.

I hate headwinds, especially on a single-speed.

Despite that, the ride was a good one, if only because we got to chat in our typical manner. The winds were a pain, for sure, and by the time we got to my turnoff, I felt utterly battered. The effects of my illness and many days out of the saddle were readily apparent and I had to laugh as G hollered “Nice work!” as we parted ways. There was nothing nice about the work I’d just done to ride the 7 miles of flat trail to the next station. The train ended up being quite late, to boot.

Once back in town, I was somewhat relieved that the wind would be at my back for a good portion of the traverse. As soon as I stood on my pedals for the first incline, I heard the creaking. Having regreased the BB and the pedals, I’m not sure if I missed something or if there’s another issue at play. In any case, it kept me company on the way home.

I can’t help but feel some guilt for beating up my bikes so much.

I’m competitive. It’s not an all-out problem (I can keep it in check) but there’s an unquestionable Pavlovian response when someone in the group jumps or there’s an unknown rider off in the distance…

Part of it is seeing where my limits are and trying to push through them. When I got back into riding, a friend commented that in order to improve, one must ride with a group that will drop you (assuming that you’re riding for a purpose of fitness and/or competition). Riding with G has taught me many, many things… but the constant factor remained that if he wanted to, he could drop me in a heartbeat. When I got bratty, he would gently remind me to cool it. When I got stronger, I wanted to push my limits more… so I rode harder. Understandably so, G wasn’t much interested in commutes and leisure rides becoming pain fests. So I started riding alone… and didn’t like it.

Since then, I’ve tempered a bit. The Achilles injury helped, too. Now I’m making a concerted effort to be slower and enjoy the ride/scenery/people more.

And then I started getting updates from others… started hearing their epic adventures in the saddle, hearing that they’ve ridden every day this year, logging hundreds and hundreds of miles already. It’s easier to ignore when it’s just the general Interwebs chatter–I don’t know these people personally, so it’s easier to distance oneself. But these updates are coming from friends, colleagues and mentors. People I see on a daily basis.

I’m a firm believer in relativity… that there’s little usefulness to comparing one’s own “performance” to another’s; one simply needs to ask themselves if they accomplished what they wanted in the manner which they preferred. In other words, ride your own ride. Of course, it’s easier said than done… and now, that competitive twitch is building.

I suppose learning to temper problematic impulses is part of the fun.

Our region is sitting in the middle of an inversion at the moment… so warm in the mountains, cold in the lowlands. There’s a standing “Stagnant Air” warning, along with varying densities of fog every morning, sometimes lasting throughout the day. Wednesday, curiously enough, had freezing fog in the valley… all the trees looked like they’d been smocked. Fortunately, the roads were fine. Despite the limited visibility, I always like riding in fog.

I pulled the BB on the Karate Monkey Tuesday night in a failed attempt to get rid of the creaking (the pedals are the next target). I also shortened up the handlebars and installed the new Oury lock-on grips. Worked a bit more on the Soma on Wednesday… it’s a hair’s breath away from being done. While riding the KM has been a lot of fun, I have to admit that I’m looking forward to hopping back on the Soma.

Had a conversation with a friend who’s been working on bikes for quite a few years now, talking mostly about my frustrations with the various (and seemingly continuous) maintenance problems. He echoed the “Well, that’s what happens when you ride nearly every day” sentiment, adding that he personally had gotten to a point where he stopped caring as much about the little things as long as his bikes rolled. In other words, it’s highly unlikely that there will ever be a everything-working-perfectly moment on the bike if I’m riding it.

Every time I visit Portland, I can’t help but wander around in awe over their bike infrastructure. It isn’t just an abundance of bike lanes, which there’s certainly a plethora of… it’s stuff like bike turning lanes, cut-outs in cement islands, stoplight boxes, route signage, “Share the Road” billboards and bike racks in front of businesses…

I suppose it’s all relative and requires a bit of perspective, but it simultaneously cracks me up and saddens me that, here in town, I was completely blown away by seeing 8 cyclists on the road within 20 minutes… and yet within half as much time I saw twice as many cyclists riding around in Portland. Downtown, neighborhoods, suburbs, major thoroughfares… bikes everywhere.

And then I think about my town, where bike infrastructure is an afterthought of an afterthought. Where a proposed bike lane expansion includes a half-mile tract up an average 12% grade hill (with steeper sections). Where city officials go on a bike ride in order to understand a cyclist’s perspective… and end up frightened and disoriented… and yet nothing has come to fruition. To be fair, perhaps it’s just the glacial pace of bureaucracy that’s kept any improvements from happening just yet. But how hard can it be to put down some paint in the form of lanes and sharrows?

I’ve heard retorts along the lines of “well, studies and data indicate that there aren’t enough cyclists in the area to justify that kind of expense”. And yes, there definitely needs to be some scaling in projects… however, I also believe there’s much to be said along the lines of “If you build it, they will come”. Portland certainly seems to’ve been quite successful with their decades-long effort to build an infrastructure that’s friendly to more than just cars.

Yesterday morning, I encountered 8 bike commuters before reaching the train station. I can’t say that I’ve ever seen that many in one ride… at least not in this town at 6:30am. It was… inspiring. There’s a sense of comfort in seeing more and more people riding, even if it’s only a brief glimpse.

The Soma is still in a state of overhauling; just have to finish up the cables, wrap the bars and throw the new cassette and chain on. I’m looking forward to riding it again.

Tonight, the front wheel of the KM got knocked out of true on the train of all places. Can’t say that I was entirely thrilled about that discovery. The bottom bracket has been making all kinds of racket, too. Given that the bike is barely 3 months old… I’m not sure whether I should be impressed or annoyed. I do need to extend the mudflaps a bit further down, so that may prevent the BB getting as soaked as it has lately.

Last week, as mentioned before, I heard the siren song of “ride, ride in all this rain you fool, ride!” So when I rode on Tuesday, I laughed throughout the morning’s portion, arriving at the train “streaming” more than dripping. Beneath my shell layers, I was perfectly dry.

The first part of the afternoon portion was much the same, with a strong headwind and stinging rain. I arrived at the train station grinning from ear to ear. Some colleagues called me insane; I just laughed… which probably confirmed their suspicions.

Once back in town, things worked out so that the wind was at my back most of the way up the traverse. Feeling envigorated by my adventure, I decided to stop by the pub. An hour later, as I was just about to throw my leg over my bike again, I discovered that my rear tire was flat. Crap. I did a quick mental checklist of what I had with me… tube, check; CO2, check; levers, check; pump… … crap, no pump. I could tell it’d been a slow leak, as there was still a modest amount of air left. So I pondered a roll of the dice: inflate tire via CO2 and hope that it’s enough to ride halfway home, then use second CO2 to make the last leg… or work in soaking wet conditions with minimal light to replace tube?

I chose the path of least resistance and grabbed my CO2. In the next minute, I learned two very important things… first, that a full 16g cartridge of C02 barely inflates a tube on the KM to the recommended minimum of 30psi… and second, that I only had one cartridge, which I’d just used. Realizing that I didn’t have time to ponder my folly, I hopped on and started riding, standing on the pedals in a vain hope of minimize the amount of weight on the back wheel. I made it a half-mile.

The walk home took me 40 minutes, giving me plenty of time to ponder the various points of folly. Once I arrived, I removed the rear wheel and searched for the culprit… finding a ceramic shard the size of my pinky fingernail embedded in the tread. I pulled it out, cursed it, then disposed of it. Replacing the tube and getting the tire back on the rim (the Big Apples are very stubborn on the WTB rims) was not on the agenda for the night, I decided, so I left the mess there and went inside to pull off my soggy gear and warm up with some tea.

Making the wrong decision can suck sometimes. Who knew?

I have a love/hate relationship with cycling clothing. On one hand, I recognize the benefits of activity-specific clothing that’s been designed to offer more comfort (e.g. chamois in shorts, wicking materials in jerseys, pockets, etc.). On the other hand, I hold a belief that the abundance of all this clothing, and its related marketing/hype, has created the perception that one cannot fully enjoy the activity without owning the gear that was designed for that activity. I believe that one should be able to ride whatever bike they like in whatever clothes they like.

Despite all that, though, I’m a full believer in the usefulness of breathable waterproof gear. Especially around this region. At the moment, our area has taken a dramatic swing from sub-freezing temps at sea level to heavy rains up to 8,000 ft… and massive flooding.

Heeding the siren song of all this rain, I commuted on the KM yesterday. I’d fashioned waterproof knickers out of some old shell pants and, along with the jacket, booties and waterproof gloves, I was actually able to stay quite dry given how much rain was coming down. Needless to say, it took a bit more time to get all the “shell” gear on, and it was during this process of suiting up that I thought about the above love/hate relationship. I also thought about how going through the motions of getting your gear on can create a Pavlovian response–when I strap on my cycling shoes, my muscles twitch in anticipation.

Took the KM out for what became a 38-mile exploration of my limits. The good news is that I survived, even if my legs were floppy for the rest of the day. I slogged up two big hills that are taxing even on the Double Cross. Saw some new scenery and overall had a great ride.

It’s fun to push those limits sometimes… especially when you come out on the other side having surpassed your own expectations.

New year, new wardrobe. Hoping to post bigger photos and play with the layout some more.

• Total miles ridden: 3,518
• Total miles driven: 3,775 (136,717)

2008 was an interesting year. The first five months of the year found me in the saddle every day, resulting in a fitness level I eagerly abused and pushed in an attempt to find my limits. That came back to haunt me after May and I spent three months—arguably some of the best months to ride—out of the saddle nursing my Achilles. After September, I never quite found my pace again. The Karate Monkey renewed some of the passion, for sure, along with the realization that I was so close mileage-wise between driving and riding. Now I’m looking forward to a new year, one with adaptable goals (as opposed to finite, inflexible… like riding every day).

Foremost, I want to ride more miles in 2009. Whether that ends up as 3,519 or 10,000… it doesn’t matter. I don’t think that 3,500 miles in the saddle is all that much. Assuming I’ve learned my lesson about maintaining my physical health, I’ll have three more months to log miles than I did in 2008.

I’m pleased that I met my goal of driving less than 8,000 miles this year, especially since I halved the number. While I’m tempted to set a goal of driving fewer miles than I did in ‘08, I’m going to go with a more modest 7,000 or less goal.

Between those two, I’m hoping to end up riding more miles than I drive in 2009.

What are your goals for the new year?