04.24.2008 | 10:57 am
In two days (that’s 48 hours for those of you who use the metric system), I’ll be riding in Kenny’s 2008 RAWROD — Ride Around White Rim in One Day.
I can hardly wait.
This will be the first time I’ve tried doing the ride on a single speed. And it’s the first time I will attempt a 100-mile mountain bike ride as my first century of the year.
I predict that I will suffer. But that’s not my only prediction. Nosirree. The fact is, I have been doing this kind of ride for so long that I already have a good idea of how the day’s going to turn out, to the extent that I can confidently make the following predictions about the ride:
I predict the wind will be a problem. The weather forecast has Saturday as mild, slightly overcast, and a high in the low 70s (not metric). That’s excellent, but the forecast also predicts 15mph wind. Luckily, this wind will be at our backs at the beginning of the day. Unluckily, it will be in our faces the second half of the day…as we ride through the sandiest part of the ride. I’m sure, however, that the wind won’t blow sand into our faces.
I predict the sand will be a problem, but moreso for some than for others. The way we’re riding this loop, we’ll be in the sandy part of the ride the second half of the day. And the sand can be troublesome, especially when your legs are cooked. It will be interesting to see how many people riding 26″ bikes have to walk through sandy sections, vs. those of us on 29″ bikes. And by “it will be interesting,” I of course mean, “it will be fun to gloat.”
I predict that I will be kind of jumpy, giddy, chatty and goofy for the first 25 miles. It never fails. I get a massive adrenaline surge at the beginning of long rides and I get this big grin and am just so darned enthusiastic that people who haven’t had their morning caffeine tend to find me irritating.
I predict I will take it out too hot. I always know I shouldn’t go out at top speed, but then I can’t help myself and I just fly, entirely convinced that my legs are going to feel this good the whole day. Oddly, they never do.
I predict that I will be entirely non-jumpy, non-giddy, non-chatty, but still goofy (but in a different way) for the final 25 miles. Once the initial rush has worn off, I settle down and am actually a pretty good riding companion for 50 miles or so. I’m talkative, but don’t demand (nor require) conversation. I’m just happy to be there, and feeling good about the ride. Then, for the final 25 miles, I become a sullen, hateful being, full of spite and bile. Do not talk to me, because I will not have pleasant things to say. I have said 99% of the swear words I have ever uttered during the final 25 miles of big rides.
I predict that I will ride alone for at least part of the day. This weekend, Dug, Brad, Kenny and I have vowed to ride the whole RAWROD together. I love to think that this will actually be the case, but I have a hard time imagining it. At some point I’m going to bonk and will actually get angry if people try to stay with me at my bonked-out pace. And I’m not the only guy who prefers to suffer alone. At various moments, others in the group are going to suffer, and will want to suffer alone. I’ve learned that when someone wants to suffer alone, it’s best to let them. Because that way if they die, you get their stuff.
I predict that I will wish I had brought an iPod. I understand that many women are able to talk continuously for ten hours. I don’t know any guys who can (not saying they’re not out there, just that I haven’t met them…and also, that I don’t want to meet them). At that point, I”m going to wish I had brought an iPod.
I predict that I will be angry at my past-self for having such poor self-discipline. During the big climbs, as I have to push my bike up the hill, I am going to mentally — and possibly literally — flog myself for not having dieted properly before this ride. “If you would have exercised some self-control,” I will say, accusingly, to my past-self, “You would be riding your bike up this pitch, instead of hiking it.” Sadly, my past-self was too busy eating carne asada burritos to hear what his future-self was saying. Too bad, because my future-self has a good point.
I predict I will wish I had ridden my SuperFly. Not only because of the gears, but because of the suspension. My left wrist feels OK right now, but not great. After ten hours of riding a rigid singlespeed over incredibly choppy terrain, I suspect I’m going to be a little sore in a few key places. And by “a few key places,” I of course mean “everywhere.”
I predict I will resent people who pass me. Even though this is not a race, I still tend to take it personally when someone passes me. I especially hate it when they say something friendly as they go by. On the other hand, I hate it just as much when they don’t say anything at all. My recommendation to my fellow riders? Don’t pass me. Wait your turn, and we’ll all get around the Rim together. Oh, and don’t crowd me, either. Stay 20 feet back at all times.
I predict I will resent people who are pulling me but going too fast. Especially during the headwindish part of the ride, I intend to tuck in behind people, and never take a turn pulling. I’m not sure right now how I’ll rationalize that as an OK thing to do, but I figure I’ll come up with something. When these people start pulling away, I presume I will come up with a sarcastic remark, which I would utter…if only I had the wind.
I predict I will take a lot of pictures at the beginning of the ride. At the beginning of the ride, everything looks like a photo-op.
I predict I will take no photos whatsoever during the final 25 miles of the ride. By the end of the ride, everything looks like just another cliff, just another bike, just another sandstone arch. Whatever. Let’s just get this over with, OK?
I predict I will get sunburned. I’m pretty good about getting sunscreen on me. But I always miss a spot. Usually the tip of one of my ears. That will look awesome.
I predict I will vow to never do this kind of ride ever again. I am willing to go out on a limb for this prediction. As I climb Horsethief road, the giant switchbacking climb that never ends right at the final five miles of the ride, it will become astonishingly clear what a stupid idea bicycles in general are, and what an even stupider idea this ride in particular was. This certainty will come with the clarity of an epiphany that cannot be denied. Which makes me wonder how I manage to come out and do the ride again every year.
I predict that even when things get really bad, a small part of me will be happy, because good stories need conflict. Even as I’m bonked out of my brain, I’ll be composing the paragraph that makes it sound like I’m suffering nobly, somehow. However, if it’s someone else who bonks, it will be the occasion for great comedy.
I predict I will be grateful it’s over. It’s amazing how quickly the pain subsides when you finish a ride. There have been times when I actually have started giggling with relief as I realize I have finished. I know, middle-aged men shouldn’t giggle. I’m not saying I’m proud of the giggling, just that it happens.
I predict that by the time 3 days (72 hours, for those of you who use the metric system) has elapsed, I will be excited about going again next year. Which just goes to prove that I’m stupid.
Comments (34)
04.23.2008 | 10:02 am
There’s a terrific singletrack network — Corner Canyon, in Draper, Utah — that is almost ridiculously convenient in its location. It is literally on my way home from work, so I can drive partway home, ride for an ninety minutes or so, and then finish my ride home.
Importantly, this trail network doesn’t have a lot of trees shading it, so while a lot of the good local trails in this area are still covered with snow and mud, Corner Canyon — the lower part anyway — is in terrific condition.
I’m going there twice, sometimes three times a week right now. It’s a wonderful place to go riding. In fact, you might say I’m falling deeply in love with Corner Canyon.
But that’s a different story.
Fateful Decision
Last Thursday after work, I drove over to Corner Canyon and started my ride. Recently, I’ve been riding the Superfly — getting to know it — but this time I decided it was time to take out the Single Speed, especially since I plan to ride the SS at RAWROD this weekend.
The SS felt so good.
It had been so long since I had ridden the WaltWorks that I admit I was a little bit worried. Did I have the legs for the SS? Had I been spoiled by gears and a front suspension?
Nope, not at all. It was like coming home. I swear, every time I ride that bike I want to give Walt a big hug.
The sun was out and I had gotten the OK from Susan to spend some extra time on the trail, so I explored a little bit — checking to see where the trails were good, where they got muddy, and where they became snow-covered.
After two hours, I was tired, muddy, and very happy. Time to go home.
I linked up to a trail that would — I supposed — bring me back to the parking lot, but after paralleling the road for a while it veered off to the right, leading away from the road that would take me to the parking lot.
“No problem,” I thought. “I’ll just cut across this field and ride the final quarter-mile on the road.”
Which is what I did.
Snap, Crackle, Pop
As soon as I finished riding across the field and hopped the curb onto the pavement, I heard a weird sound: it sounded like I was riding on Rice Krispies. Or maybe on cornflakes.
In reality, unfortunately, I was riding on a thick coating of goatheads — mountain biking’s answer to carpet tacks scattered on the road.
You will have to believe me when I say that there were literally hundreds of these things stuck in my tires.
Hundreds.
I stopped, and started pulling the goatheads out. Each time I did, a little hiss of air and ooze of liquid latex would follow.
After about ten minutes, I gave up. There was no way I would get all these out. So I took a picture of the ones that were left. See how many you can count in this section of one tire — be sure to count more than just the intact goatheads themselves; it’s the broken-off ones that are hard to find.
So I took my bike into Racers, where he told me that, sure, if I wanted to spend the time pulling out all those thorns, the tire would probably hold air.
I did the math, the formula of which is as follows:
C = 4(W+F)
where:
C = the personal cost of the time I would spend pulling thorns out of a tire
W = The value of an hour of my work time
F = The value of an hour of my free time, which is 2W, by the way
In other words, since it would take me approximately four hours to find and remove all the hundreds (again, I would like to emphasize that “hundreds” is a literal, non-exaggerated number) of goatheads, during which I would not be working or riding my bike.
Note: I know that some of you will want to quibble that the formula should be either C=4(W) or C=4(F), since I cannot be both working and playing at the same time. To you people (hi Big Mike), I reply that since when I am plucking thorns out of my tires I am neither working nor having fun, this odious task must be worth as much as the work and play value combined. I am not interested in dissenting opinions.
Without wanting to brag, let’s just say that my math demonstrated that C = $3000.00. And that’s too much for tires.
So I asked Racer to do it for me.
Surprisingly, he declined, but offered to sell me a new pair of tires instead, and set them up for the Stans NoTube system at no extra charge.
How could I decline?
Lesson Learned
So, today after work, I’ll be picking up my WaltWorks, now with brand-spanking new Geax Saguaro 29s (highly recommended) mounted, and loaded with a fresh batch of Stan’s sealant.
And I will never ever ever cut across that field again.
I expect I’m not the only one who’s ever made what felt like a totally trivial decision, only to have it turn out to be stupid, embarrassing, and expensive. Oh, and painful, too. By all means, please leave a comment describing your expensive errors. What riding decision do you wish you could take back?
Comments (59)
04.22.2008 | 5:42 am
A Note from Fatty: I’ve got a new article in BikeRadar today. You can read the snippet below, or click here to read the whole thing.
You want to be fast, don’t you? Of course you do. And you’re willing to spend large amounts of money to be faster, aren’t you? Of course you are. Otherwise, why would you be riding a bike at all?
Oh sure, there are a few of you out there who say you don’t care about being particularly fast; your goal is to have fun, or to see the outdoors, or get from point A to point B.
Pfff. You’re not fooling anybody. The only reason you’re saying those things is because you don’t know how to become faster.
Well, I can help. Through intensive research and market analysis (i.e., I made a list of ideas on a napkin during lunch yesterday), I have developed a premium brand of cycling components and apparel is exactly what you need to become the cyclist you dream of being.
It’s all very expensive, which should help you feel confident that it’s really, really good.
Here is a sneak preview from my Fall 2008 Catalog.
Aero-X Helmet
The trend among most cycling helmet manufacturers is to design helmets that cut through the air with a minimum of wind resistance. That’s all well and good if you’re trying to do your training with a minimum of effort, I suppose, but if you prefer to become a stronger, faster racer, perhaps you should consider my Ultra Large and Heavy Wind Dam Helmet.
Roughly the size of an extra-large beach ball, this helmet has been scientifically designed not to cut through the wind, but to block the wind. In fact, while you can order the perfectly spherical version of this helmet, we recommend the FS (Full Sail) version, which has a concave scoop in the front, guaranteed to make you have to fight the wind 40% harder during your training rides. We’re so confident in the wind-resisting properties, in fact, that if this helmet doesn’t make even the gentlest headwind feel like a frontal assault by hurricane force winds, we’ll refund your money.
But the training value of this helmet doesn’t stop with its wind-resisting benefits. Instead of using lightweight Styrofoam as its impact-absorption material, it uses low-viscosity oil. Just imagine how strong your neck, back, and torso — three areas usually neglected by cyclists — will become as you try to keep your head from lolling as you support the forty pounds this helmet weighs.
And then, imagine how light and agile you’re suddenly going to feel when you wear a normal helmet on race day. $385.99
HydroRetentive Shorts and Jerseys
While other cycling apparel manufacturers concentrate on lightweight, wicking clothes, We have designed a line of clothing that focuses on capturing and holding on to your perspiration, like a big cotton sponge. Your shorts will actually grow larger as you ride and perspire, imperceptibly resisting your efforts to an increasing degree as you ride.
Your new hydroretentive kit helps solve another heretofore-unknown training issue: cheating via on-bike weight loss. Normally, as you ride and perspire, you lose weight, so that by the end of the ride you may be as much as three pounds lighter than when you began the ride. This means that for a good part of the ride, you haven’t been riding with as much weight as you should be, which means your legs aren’t getting the workout they should.
By holding on to all the water you perspire during your ride, your new Hydroretentive kit ensures you’re getting as much of a workout at the end of the ride as you were at the beginning. Shorts: $320, Jerseys: $195.
Important Note: While these may look, feel, and behave like an ordinary pair of baggy cotton shorts and a cheap t-shirt, we can promise you that they are not.
Click here to continue reading "Premium Products for Guaranteed Go-Faster Results" over at BikeRadar.com.
Comments (24)
04.21.2008 | 10:39 am
Saturday morning looked perfect. No need for tights, no need for long sleeves. Finally — finally! — I was getting out on a road ride. Solo, with my iPod loaded with a mix of Boingo, Cake, Devo, Green Day, Red Hot Chili Peppers, and (above all) Social Distortion.
I was headed from my home out to Cedar Fort, a 50-mile out-and-back ride with very few turns and very little climbing.
My idea? Get into the cycling zone and lose myself for a couple hours.
But it didn’t work out quite that way.
Cue Ominous Music
Within a couple of miles, the wind kicked up, blowing Northeast.
I, naturally, was headed Southwest.
I decided, though, that this wasn’t going to ruin my ride. I’d just drop to a lower gear, put my head down, and keep going. A headwind was no big deal.
Except it wasn’t always a headwind. About half the time, it was a headwind/crosswind. It didn’t just want to blow me backwards. It wanted to knock me over sideways.
Obstacle Course
Before long, it had stopped being so much of a headwind as an uber-headwind. Like a hurricane, without the water. Or like a cyclone, but without the spinning. Or like a tornado, but without…um…I guess without the spinning again.
Tumbleweeds tumbled across the road. I made a game of dodging them, losing only once. I noticed a motorcycle was leaning hard to the left in order to go straight. I wondered how far I was tilting.
I was on a mostly flat road, pedaling at my absolute limit — in third gear. Then second. Then second, standing up…because there was no way I was going to be pedaling on a flat road in my granny gear, no matter what. I’ve got my pride.
I learned to adapt to what was the greatest danger of all — big trucks going by. The trucks themselves weren’t a problem, but as they passed, they’d briefly block the wind, and since I was leaning hard to the left, suddenly the absence of wind would have me shooting into traffic.
This ride was not turning out how I expected.
I Give Up
About five miles before my self-appointed turnaround spot (basically, the place where the road shoulder disappears), I decided I was just too tired. I needed to turn around and see if I could limp myself home.
So I waited for traffic to clear and then pulled a U-turn.
Instantly, I realized how powerful that wind was. Without pedaling, I shot up to 15mph.
And that’s when I understood why wind is such an awful opponent. You can’t tell how much it’s affecting you. Sure, you feel it on your face and chest and you know it’s slowing you down, but you don’t really know how much of your being slow is because of the wind, and how much of it is because of you just being slow.
Well, in this case, it turned out that it was pretty much all the wind.
I Un-Give Up
With the new knowledge that the wind was basically going to give me a free ride all the way home, I decided that I could make it to my original turnaround spot. And so I turned around again, slamming into the wall of wind and having to shift down to my third gear again.
Except it didn’t seem as bad anymore, because now I knew how hard the wind was pushing against me, and that I was still moving ahead anyways. And the important thing wasn’t that I was going slow, it was that I was going at all.
And then, finally, when I got to turn around and ride with the wind — top gear, 35mph on level ground — I really felt like I had earned it.
Comments (36)
04.20.2008 | 7:19 pm
As an avid cyclist, you have no doubt noticed that you have become the go-to guy for everyone you know whenever they have a bicycle-related question. They will come to you when they have a flat tire and need a fix (and will express astonishment when you suggest replacing the tube instead of using a patch). They will come to you when they need to put air in the tire (and will be dismayed to find your pump doesn’t work with their kind of valve). They will come to you when their bike chain is so grimy and corroded that it has seized up, hoping you’ve got some WD-40 you can lube it with.
And, eventually, someone’s going to come to you with a request for help in purchasing a bike. This should be a flattering moment, because it indicates an enormous amount of respect for your opinion.
It should be flattering, but it isn’t. It’s incredibly frustrating, because they know so little about the arcane and wonderful universe of bicycles that they think a bicycle is just a relatively simple mechanical contrivance you can ride for transportation, exercise, and pleasure.
Simpletons.
So, with their best interests at heart, you begin to ask them questions. Road or mountain bike? 26" wheels or 29"? Ever consider riding a fixie? Full-suspension, hardtail plus suspension fork, or fully rigid? Shimano, Campy, or Sram? Got a preference for pedals? Carbon, aluminum, steel, or Ti?
These are all good and important questions, as you and I both know. They are also questions which will send your friend into a blind panic.
You want to really help someone get into bikes? Ask them these three questions.
1. Where do you want to ride it? You’ll be amazed at the valuable information this intentionally vague question yields. You’d expect them to say "road" or "dirt," but they probably haven’t actually realized they need different kinds of bikes for different terrain. You’ll probably get an answer like, "Pulling the kids around the neighborhood," "To work and back," or "On hiking trails." Or probably all three. What they want is a hybrid.
I know, I know, hybrids are icky. But that’s what they want.
2. What made you want to start riding a bike?
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