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Yearly Archives: 2019
If you aspire to ride with the fast people in your local cycling club, this list is for you. Riding with the slower crowd, you have a little more leeway as your habits go. People won’t be as worried about aero-bars or the flow in the pace-line, or who pulls and who sits in. When you get too fast for the lower groups and want to jump a level to the faster folks, there are some things that you’ll need to know to be accepted into the crew.
- DO NOT stop pedaling when you’re up front. This includes all downhill sections in which you do not reach escape velocity (40+ mph, give or take)
- DO NOT open a hole up for someone who just took a turn up front two bikes back of the front because you’re “tired” or you don’t want to pull. This is one of the biggest dick moves in cycling – even more so than even the ass-drop*, which you surely deserve. You’re in a race? Hey, do what you have to do. If you’re on a club ride, though, do some of the work, or ride all the way at the back, or ride with a slower group. If you don’t respect those you’re riding with enough to pull through, don’t expect them to respect you enough to let you hang.
- No aero-bars in the group unless you’re up front. You may get away with that with the 15-mph group, but you won’t when you get off the porch and ride with the big dogs. We won’t allow it – you’ll get run out or berated till you drop (or, see the ass-drop*). Don’t take this too personally. It’s a self-preservation thing and remember the aero-bar rule of thumb; those who think they’re good enough to ride in the aero-bars in a group are half as good as they think they are and twice as stupid.
- DO NOT ride unpredictably. When you’re hurtling down the road at 30-mph, there’s no time for sight seeing; 30-mph is a big deal. You’re traveling 44 feet (13-ish meters) per second. A lot can happen in a second, my friends. The point is, riding predictably is required when you’re bar to bar and wheel to wheel. Erratic riders will likely get told to hold their line or asked if we’re playing “hide-and-go-draft” or “dodge the draft” (not to be confused with draft dodging, of course).
- Don’t blow a snot rocket without leaving the line to do so. If you cover someone with snot, it will come back to haunt you – and deservedly so.
- If the group you’re riding with is a little too fast for you and you do have to suck wheel, don’t interrupt the people doing the work. When they come off the front, open up a gap for them, let them fill it, then get on the new wheel. You’re there at their pleasure, don’t abuse them for letting you sit in.
- Don’t sit in behind the strongest guy in the group if you’re one of the weakest. You choose the weaker guys to hide behind because the stronger guys will hang up front longer, thereby wearing you out prematurely.
- DO NOT attack on the hills if the rest of the group isn’t. When you’re the weaker link, the tendency is to believe that everyone behind you wants to go faster than you’re capable of going. Again, be steady and predictable.
- DO NOT ride in a way that leaves those behind you in the ditch, in a crosswind. What this means, if that last sentence didn’t appear to be English, you have to look out for the rest of the group. This isn’t about riding where you feel comfortable. You ride where the group needs you. When you’re stacked up in echelon and the wind is in the group’s face, you have to ride where others will get a draft off you. If you don’t, scorn will be piled on you, and deservedly so.
- The last, and most important item in this list isn’t a “do not”, it’s a “do; do treat those around you like you give a f*** and your ride will go a whole lot better. If you act like you’re the center of the universe, you’ll find yourself riding alone… the center of your own universe.
That’s a fairly decent “what not to do” list, but that leaves us with one last bit of information to deal with. The ass-drop.
Now that I’ve had some time to think about it, I don’t think I’m going to give that one away. You’ll know it when you see it, though. I’ll promise you that.
And if you see it, it’s likely because you’re an ass. Don’t be one.
The most valuable things I’ve acquired in all my years of cycling, other than happiness, contentment, and exceptional fitness, some awesome bikes, of course, are my cycling legs. They’ve been just as important as the bikes I’ve chosen to ride.
Back in 2012, when I was just a pup, one of my friends mentioned that it would take about three years of solid, heavy miles to attain my “cycling legs”. I didn’t know exactly what he meant back then, but I sure know now…
This photo was taken at approximately 24-mph. My friend, Doug, having just come off the front after a 2-mile pull, is obviously no worse for the wear and my friends are looking quite comfortable. We’re 50 miles into a 100 mile day, after riding 100 the two previous days.
If we had to define “cycling legs”, it’s when one acquires the legs needed to put in the miles one wants to put in, without having to worry about the ability to complete a difficult ride (or several in a row).
For instance, after the four-day tour mentioned above, I didn’t take the day after off. No, I went for a ride with my friend, Mike. It was certainly an easy pace and we didn’t go very far, but we were out riding nonetheless (37 miles at 17.5-mph). The day after I turned in a 21-mph effort on Tuesday night for the club ride (though I dropped off the back after 11-ish miles because I didn’t feel like working that hard – we were above 22 for the average when I dropped). I didn’t take a day off till it rained that Friday.
That’s having your cycling legs.
So, how does one acquire them?
Well, that’s a little easier said than done. Going all the way back to 2011, my first year on a bike, I put in 1,820 miles for the year. Not near enough to begin working on my cycling legs. 2012 was much better at 5,360 – really, that was the first year that mattered. 2013 I barely broke the year before with 5,630. 2014 was the year I really took off, though; 6,000-ish (I didn’t keep any records that year, so I guessed low – 2015 was 7,620 and 2016 was 8,509… I’d say I guessed low by about 1,000 miles, give or take). It was the three years in a row, north of 5,000 miles, that really got me there.
Cycling legs are half physical and half mental.
The physical part of cycling legs is simply getting the miles on your saddle to get your body prepared for the regular load we put on them as cyclists. That’s the easy part, and I felt different once I got my legs under me. Now, I’m particular about what I’m feeling – I pay acute attention, so I knew within a month of when I hit my stride. I didn’t hurt the same after a big effort. I tended to recover a lot faster from hard efforts and could expect more out of my legs.
The mental side of cycling legs is knowing that if you go out for a 100k (or some other distance) ride, you’ll make it back home. It isn’t “hoping”, or “speculating”, it’s knowing. Not only that, it’s knowing how hard you can push yourself before you crack. There are some extenuating circumstances, of course. Maybe you bonk or you cramp up… but even in those situations, you know you’ll be able to spin home without too much trouble.
There’s one word that really encompasses the whole gamut; experience.
I’ve been there, done it, got the t-shirt and worn it out – now I use it to clean my chains. That much experience.
Specialized signed on to the pie in the sky “Global Climate Strike” where a bunch of Kool-Aid drinking crumb crunchers decided they needed to “strike” by skipping school because they’re ignorant enough to believe they want an end to the use of fossil fuels. 100% wind and solar is the goal. They only forget to mention one thing; in order to power everything as we know it, 100% of the world will have to be blanketed by solar panels and wind turbines. No room for farming, no growing food, nothing but windmills and solar panels. I wonder what that would do to the environment. In other words, the movement is too stupid to even take seriously.
Whatever their rationalization for signing on (and I did send them a rather scornful email and got a response replete with the normal drivel you’d expect), Specialized screwed the pooch. First, when we take a political stance, based on a politician’s half of a story, we’re immediately going to scorn 40% of the country. Second, it’ll likely be ignorant, because politicians survive by keeping people fighting – and supporting any movement that calls for an end to the use of fossil fuels, is as ignorant as you get when your company relies on them so heavily. Finally, there’s the number one rule in cycling:
The number one rule of cycling was ever thus; no f***in’ politics on bike rides, boys and girls.
Specialized forgot that and they need to be made to remember it. Our lives are ripped apart by politicians, special interest groups and the news media on a daily basis. Politics are never used to bring people together anymore. They’re used as a wedge. We need our leisure activities to come together as human beings so we can remember why we need each other, how important it is to rely on each other, and why we need to care for each other.
When you drag politics into our fun time, too, you destroy one of the great things there is about being alive and on the right side of the grass.
Shame on you, Specialized.
Oh, and Trek, please stay out of the fracas… I’m running out of bikes!
Specialized Ties Its Company to the So-Called “Global Climate Strike”. I’ve Come Up with a Great Way to Jump on the Bandwagon!
I, being a Super-Specialized Cyclist of note, received this email from Specialized earlier today:
That got me to thinking about what I might do to join Specialized and the young skulls full of mush in their effort to take the planet back to the stone age.
Then it came to me! I’ll stop purchasing any product Specialized makes with fossil fuels. I’ll do Specialized one better! I’ll demand Specialized use “sustainable” practices in their manufacturing techniques. Zero waste, zero pollution… you know! What a great idea! In fact, whilst we’re at it, I’ll go one better. Check out the “My Bikes” Page… Check out my “Venge Corner” Page… Oops, you can’t, because it’s gone. I like this tidying up! It’s good for the spirit – err, planet. Or something!
Perhaps I should consider painting the Venge (’cause I just can’t quit you, Venge) so you can’t tell it from any garden variety knock-off out there. No more cycling clothes made with cheap Chinese labor and sold for ten times the cost… no more Specialized tires, because they’re obviously made with those aforementioned fossil fuels. As for your strike, Specialized, perhaps I’ll join you in that and shop at your competitors all weekend long. In other words, suck the tailpipe, Specialized.
Now, funny story… It just so happens that a brother-in-law (step, twice removed) works at nuclear plants. That’s plural on purpose. He started in the US Military, working on nuclear power plants. Now, nuclear isn’t “fossil fuels”, technically, but stick with me a minute. My wife asked that brother-in-law (step, twice removed) what his thoughts were of replacing nuclear with something else.
The company he works for manages more than 20 nuclear power facilities. So he simply stated, “Let’s say you want to shut down my plant. Which State do you want to cover with solar panels and wind turbines to make up for it?” My friends, that’s only nuclear power. We haven’t even looked at natural gas yet, or God forbid, OIL! Look at the massive $#!+storm we just witnessed over just a 5% cutback in oil production for a few weeks! The whole world’s markets collectively clinched their butt cheeks all at the same time!
And that, my friends, is all you need to know. Now, what I do promote and believe in is doing as much as possible to live as cleanly as is comfortably possible. I recycle, I clean up after myself and others, I treat the environment with all of the care I would one of my kids… What I won’t do is sign on to some idiotic pie in the sky notion that we can completely get rid of fossil fuels when it clearly is not even remotely close to the realm of possibility in my lifetime. That doesn’t mean we shouldn’t work toward the day it is possible, but I sure as shit won’t be striking over the reality it can’t happen next week!
Unfortunately, while they’re promoting lunacy, they’re actually creating believers out of the gullible and woefully uninformed (or misinformed, take your pick). That will never end well and I reject that kind of divisiveness out of hand. Because it’s bad for the children.
One last thing, Specialized: No f***in’ politics on bicycle rides.
There are those nights a fast ride breaks out of nowhere and we manage an excellent night. Last week was one of those. It was way too windy for us to have the 22.3-mph average we did, but there it was.
Then there are nights you know it’s going to be fast before you pump up your tires. Sunny, 75 perfect degrees (24 C) with winds out of the east at just 3-mph (5-km/h). My friends, it just doesn’t get any better than that on a Tuesday night. We had a lot of those this year, as a matter of fact. A perfect night, and I showed up with my Sunday best kit and the Venge.
We also had two new competent B Group’ers join us, which was excellent.
We rolled out about 30 seconds after the A Group and it was on right out of the gate. Our first and slowest mile was at 20-mph until we got into Vernon 22 miles later – everything else was between 21 & 26-mph. We had damn-near a perfect group – and I’d say we pounded out the miles, because the pace was so excellent, but that’s not what happened, really. With the lack of wind and everyone doing their part (for the most part), for the first 15 miles there was a flow to the ride… the speed wasn’t as hard last night.
Making a left to get into our version of the hills, I expected the pace to go crazy a little bit, as it can, but it was copacetic. We had three tandems last night, and crushing the hills can hurt them. The downhills, of course, did get a little chaotic through the hills because one of the tandems likes to take advantage of them, even if it does blow up the group a little bit – let’s just say the captain of said tandem isn’t exactly a team player… and we’ll leave that fart there to waft a bit.
Once through Vernon, our slow mile of the evening (it always is – a bit of up and it’s a small downtown area, so we use it to regroup again after the City Limits sprint – which I was third in, by the way. I took a 30-mph lead out to about 500 yards from the line, no way I was going to hold that pace for as long as I would have needed to take it), things got fun. That section of the ride has some decent rollers with mild grades so it’s easy to hammer the uphills above 20-mph and double-hammer the downhills at 27-30. And that’s what we did. We were our approximation of flying, ticking off the miles between 24 and 26-mph, when the A Group came by.
I was second bike back and we picked up our pace as their line went by. A couple of 20 seconds of hard effort and we were in their draft at 29-mph but far enough back we didn’t mess with their rotation. With only two miles to go we turned in our fastest mile of the night at a solid 27.07-mph (43 km/h – I’m sorry, but that sounds vastly awesomer!). Approaching the sprint point, which the B Group was going to sit out of for the free ride, the pace picked up. 30-mph… 31… 32… and all hell broke loose.
I saw a rock fling from a tire ahead before I heard the immediate psswsshwsshwsshwshh… then the group spread apart, over both lanes of the road with Todd trying to get to the side of the road. I slowed, but not too fast to allow those behind me space to slow down, then his wheel cocked, whipping him around, his eyes were wide as saucers when he went down hard. Another cyclist just behind him managed to hold his bike up as he headed down a ditch and into someone’s front yard. He was 150′ into the yard before he managed to come to a stop from that speed. Nobody else, out of the 25-ish in the expanded group, went down.
We went over to check on Todd who was laying on the ground. He was shook up pretty bad but managed to sit up. He was starting to bleed from a couple of gashes on his elbow and he had some serious road rash on his leg, thigh and hip. That seemed to be the worst of it, though. Greg, after checking on his friend, grabbed Todd’s keys and took off to get his truck. A few of us stayed with Todd and the rest of the group departed shortly thereafter.
Todd stood up and assessed his bike, because any of us, with working appendages, knows that the cuts and scrapes will heal… the carbon fiber, not so much. No cracks, not so much as a scuff in his Argon 18 super-bike, though he’ll be picking pebbles out of places there shouldn’t be pebbles for quite a while – and not just from his skin. When that front tire flatted instantly (and a tubeless tire at that) and rolled on him, the front wheel went through the dirt on the shoulder. He picked pebbles out of the wheel/tire, out of the brakes (which locked up the back wheel). Still, all things being equal, as fast as we were going, once he cleans up and has a week or two to heal up, he was extremely fortunate how things shook out.
As I said last night, the fact that Todd was the only one who went down is a testament to how he handled himself and his bike in that situation, and also a testament to the quality of cyclists we have in our group.
I received a message on Strava from the big guy (he’s a battleship, at 6’3-ish”) that he’s doing well. He’d managed to clean up pretty well and said he’d be back out this evening for a recovery ride… on his gravel bike, no doubt. It’ll take a minute to get the Argon cleaned up and rolling again, I’d guess.
After Todd was picked up, I looked at our stats… just before the crash we’d cracked 22.5-mph for our average. We were down to 22.4. Still, fastest B Group average to date if memory serves. I think we hit 23 once before, but that was a mix of the A and B Groups. Too bad things turned out the way they did.
A friend of mine went for a bike ride the other day… which automatically posted to Strava. He accidentally created an assault bicycle ride.
We haven’t heard from Robert (Beto – heh) O’Rourke yet, but obviously the ride must be banned immediately – in fact, the entire route should be banned to discourage copycats – and, to shield children from the violent image, my friend should be subjected to 50 lashes with a wet noodle.
It never ceases to amaze me, the lame, ignorant argument that only muskets should be protected as a Constitutional Right, because “that’s what they had back then, not these modern weapons of war”…. a la Robert “I just let the cat out of the bag, we really are going to take your guns” O’Rourke. Thinking back on that debate performance, I have to laugh. For all of the consternation over Trump, not even he’s said something that approaches Beto’s level of stupidity – and that’s really saying something.
A musket was an modern weapon of war back when they wrote the Constitution. Try again, knucklehead. If you disagree, I’m perfectly okay with your right to be wrong.
Trigger (heh) warning: This is a parody, as all politicians are, and should not be taken seriously, as with politicians. Remember, ladies and gentlemen; the oldest profession in the world is prostitution. The second is politician.
Saturday was one of those gloriously sunny days that make a cyclist smile. We had a solid west wind so we chose to fight it all the way out and ride it back. Now, any avid cyclist who’s tried this will tell you the wind shifted on them about two miles after the turn for home. That’s just how it goes. Always.
Not this time, baby.
We went 23 miles, dead into the wind, before turning for home… the long way home. On the way out, I tried to take a lot of miles because I knew the ride home was going to be fun. The last four miles into the wind were mine.
For this route, we stop at a gas station in town before heading back and I chose my favorite, a Vanilla Orange Coke and a Twix White Chocolate. The Twix was really good, but the OV Coke… it’s heaven on Earth. We rolled out after a quick ten-ish minute stop.
The ride home was an absolute blast. Tailwind, with a little crosswind, all the way home. Our average jumped a mile-and-a-half an hour and we went from quiet effort to laughing and talking the whole way home. We ended up with just shy of 53 fantastic miles.
Sunday was a different story altogether. The weather prognosticator of choice was all over the place. Rain in the morning, rain in the afternoon, rain in the early morning, ending by 2am, then picking up again… my text to the gang was simply, “we’ll have to play it by ear”.
I woke up at 4am and the app said later in the early afternoon we would have a chance to ride. It changed just before 6am. I sent out a text that wheeis were rolling at 8. We had a 3-1/2 hour window and we had the 56-mile Cohoctah loop on tap. And nobody showed but my buddy, Mike.
The start was hectic and a bit slow. Mike was up front for three miles and we were pushing a 16-1/2 mph average… but Mrs. Bgddy caught us at mile two. She decided to join Mike and I for a few miles before spending time with her dad. I took the next five miles up front, taking it fairly easy into a cross-headwind at 18-1/2-mph because my wife was on her gravel bike – more than 18-ish would have been brutal for her.
My wife announced she was heading back for home as we turned south. We caught Greg, who texted earlier that he might roll with us at 17-ish-mph and that was the last time we were that slow without a stop sign. Greg opened it up and took the pace to 22 in a tough cross-headwind. After three miles, Mike called uncle. Literally, he called uncle… and I wasn’t bummed he did. I could have held Greg’s wheel but it was gonna hurt at that pace. We ate wind to mile 28, when our fortunes turned and the pace picked up. Greg split at 37 miles for home. Mike and I rolled on for our homes, 19 miles away. Thankful we could relax a bit. Or so I thought.
A mile later, something caught my attention over my right shoulder. Clouds. Gnarly one’s. We had rain coming in, and with and hour to get home, it was going to be close. I thought we would he on the losing end, being honest.
Heads down, in the drops, we hammered for home.
It started sprinkling two miles later. Five miles later it started coming down a little harder. Not enough to call it rain but it was getting close.
Mike and I traded places at the front every couple of miles. We were making some decent time, too. A 21-mph mile, 20.8, 22… 21.3, 22.8… We were starting to get damp, too. Mike said he was going to take a shortcut to get home a little sooner. I didn’t blame him. It was really starting to look like we’d get pounded.
As soon as he split, I put the hammer down, heading north. And rode right out of the drizzle! I sat up a couple of times to catch my breath but got right back after it. I didn’t want to squander getting out of the drizzle, and the horizon to my right was not good, even if the sun poked through the clouds now and again.
I pulled into the driveway, dismounted, and got my butt in the house. Two minutes later, no exaggeration, the sky opened up.
Just in the nick of time. Lunch was sweet. And my nap was even sweeter. Nothing beats beating the rain. Thankfully, Mike had the same good fortune.