By the Numbers

I've never been a huge fan of math. That may sound suspicious to those of you who know my educational background, but it's the truth. I can DO math, but it's a necessary evil of sorts. I don't like anything where there is one and only one right answer. I prefer to view the angles.
Biking however can easily become a litany of digits. Numbers bound freely around the conversation of longtime cyclists. mileage, kilometers, average speeds, max speeds, beats per minute, wattage output, VO2 max, feet of climbing, percentage grade.....the list grows beyond belief. The science of fitness and sport dictates a measurement for everything, a method of comparison that is unequivocal and free from the sway of post-exercise euphoria. When races are won (and paychecks earned) by the coefficient of drag reduction that results from an altered wrist position on the aero bars, it only makes sense to nail down the numbers.

So, I can tell you that on Sunday Carrie and I rode in the second coming of the Milledgeville Bike Club's April Fool's ride. We rode 34 miles at an average of 11.5 miles per hour. I can tell you I rode 3.8 miles at the Thomson trails Monday night, and that tonight Diana and I rode 25.57 miles at an average pace of 16.3 miles per hour with a max speed of 33.2 miles per hour. I burned 2300 calories on the ride tonight. I could chart the routes and give you total feet of climbing, and I might be able to puzzle out the wattage within one order of magnitude. I can say that on a Tuesday night, I have ridden over sixty miles already this week which is a record for me, as is the 16.3 mph average.

But it's much harder to tell you about the smell of the pines on a deserted road in Baldwin County as the sun broke through the morning mist and we climbed a paved ribbon past a white-washed church where large women in large hats were just gathering to worship. It's harder to tell you about the moment when we realized halfway through our ride tonight that we were stronger than we thought, and the way our legs and lungs burned as we proved it for the rest of the ride. If you're not a cyclist, telling you that we could barely walk when we got off our bikes and it almost made us laugh out loud at the accomplishment would be like speaking in tongues.

Numbers are easy. They're cut-and-dried and can reduce any rider to a bar graph to be compared to any other cyclist. But they're only footnotes compared to the rest of the ride.

First ride of the season

Well, our first mountain bike ride of daylight savings time was poorly attended. Carrie and I went to ride after work, and only Jesse showed up to ride. When we got there, we were actually outnumbered by people hiking with their dogs on the trail. They all left before we got out on the trail. Jesse chose to ride with us instead of doing his usual warp speed attack, and we breezed through about two and a half miles of very laid back trail. It was nice and easy. I was a little surprised that no one else came out given the beautiful weather. Oh well, guess they missed out.

Critical Mass?

Okay, maybe it's not critical. Maybe we're just approaching mildly serious. Or more accurately, mildly visible.
If you're not familiar with Critical Mass bike rides, this is a good time to open a second window and run it through the googly search. Go ahead, I'll wait. Okay, so now you know it's a mass invasion of a city by bicyclists that shuts down traffic and progresses from point A to B. The point is to block vehicular traffic and make the drivers painfully aware that bikes ARE traffic. I'm not going to debate whether or not this is effective or even a good idea, but I welcome comments from anybody who thinks they can make their point with out using the words "dude, man" or "like."
I bring this up only as a backstory to my experience on our road ride Sunday. This weekend was certainly Spring's warning shot across the bow of Winter. March comes in sunny and seventy degrees, so Carrie and I decided to join the group ride at the bike store. Diana opted to join us. Now, the Sunday ride is billed as casual, but even then I didn't expect to keep up. Carrie is averaging 12-13 mph and both of us hadn't been on a bike much since being sick. Add that to the fact that Diana ended up needing five stitches in her hand the morning before the ride, and it's obvious we weren't planning on being contenders. It seemed like there was a good turn out for the ride, and they rolled out en masse at five till one. Diana was still getting her gear on, and I was a little surprised no one bothered to check with us as they left to see if we were planning on riding with them. We weren't, but it would have been courteous to check.
We mounted up and headed out, and within a half mile Bill had circled back to check on us and make sure we were okay. We assured him we were, and discussed expected averages and distances. Once he was sure that we were set and knew that there was no need to rein in the group to wait on us, he split to catch up to the group.
We crossed the interstate and turned south, making our way to highway 96 and further south on some very pretty, quiet roads. My favorite point was a third-of-a-mile climb on shake and bake pavement on allendale road. The sun was beating down between the tall pines and we were cranking up a grass fringed stretch that felt like it could have been on a col in southern France. Fantastic.
The other thing that struck me was how nice all the motorists were. We got smiles and waves, everyone passed with plenty of room, even the guys in the heavy duty trucks were reasonable. a couple people gave us a thumbs up instead of the customary middle finger. We even had a woman pull up to a stop sign where we were resting and ask if we were okay! Concern? What a revolution!
Which brings me back around to Critical Mass. Maybe, just maybe, we are starting to have enough cyclists on the road that people are becoming aware of us. Maybe drivers are starting to see us as people instead of obstacles. Perhaps we're starting to step up to a new level of visibility.
Maybe it was just a rare, good day. But I'll take it.

30 miles, 11.5 mph average.

Oh. CRAP.

Okay, somehow I've slipped up and managed to get myself elected as Central Georgia Cycling's 08 President. That's it, I'm never drinking whiskey at Shane's house again.
But seriously, I guess it's time for me to stop muttering snarky comments from the back of the room and step up on stage. I know it's very likely going to be like having a double root canal at Lowe's sometimes, but I think it's going to be a good experience overall. Ask me in 6 months. we've got a good active group of riders in the mid state area, and I'm sure there will be a demanding chorus of complaints and ideas, but that's what American Free Process is all about. In the end I hope that I will, with due assistance, be able to seek out the path that makes riding better for everyone on pedals around here.
Thank you, and good night.

Yep, you missed it

You missed it. All of you missed it. Well, all except Brady, but I'm doubtful he's reading my blog. What did you miss? A fantastic night to ride. Last night was beautiful. Seventy degrees and clear with good tacky trails and a beautiful sunset to boot. There were some muddy spots, but what fun is mountain biking if you don't get splatter marks. Brady and I were the only ones that came out to ride, and believe me, everybody else missed out. If you aren't kicking yourself by now, you should probably start.
It's been a while since I've ridden by myself for a full lap. I forgot how much I enjoy it from time to time. Mind you, I really prefer to ride with someone else. First off, it's just fun to ride with a friend (or friends) and adventures are always best when shared. Secondly, you will never push yourself as hard solo as you will when you have someone to challenge you. Riding solo has it's own charms. You seem a little more involved in the woods. I hate to use hippy-dippy, granola scarfing new-age terms, but you really get in a different sort of headspace. Sort of a zen balance of connecting with the trail and flowing over the earth like water while at the same time finding a refreshing disconnectedness from worry and concern. And in case you're wondering, no, I didn't smoke any of the random trailside greenery.
In the end, I had a good time. I even pushed myself a little and turned in a 35 minute lap including one quick check to make sure gravity was still working. It was. Thirty five minutes is not terribly fast, in fact it's five minutes off my best time ever and WAY slower than the hard boys around here, but as an early February run, it ain't bad. It seems like my ebb tide riding schedule hasn't left me stranded too far up the beach.
And just for all you folks that couldn't make it, did I mention we nailed down a full lap without turning on our lights?
Go ahead, start kicking.

The Top Priority of the Summer

Ahh, sometimes fate drops a plan right in your lap, which is better than a scalding bowl of wonton soup, to be sure. If you happened to receive the recent SORBA / IMBA e-newsletter, you may already have heard of the Muddy Spokes Club, but if not, let me educate you. The state park system here in the great state of Georgia has bike accessible trails at several of it's parks. In order to promote use of the parks for exercise, they have formed the Muddy Spokes Club. You send in a $10 registration and you get a card. You then go to each of 11 parks and ride the trails there. At each park, the nice ranger will punch your card. When all the holes are punched, you mail the card back and they send you a commemorative T-shirt and another card. The trails range from flat, short and paved to long, mountain singletrack runs with "scenic overlooks." For any of you new to mountain biking, if a trial has scenic overlooks, it is has to be way the hell up on a mountain. Which means climbing way the hell up a mountain. The total mileage of all the trails is 68 miles, with the shortest at 3 miles and the longest at 12.
Most of the trails will probably be less than challenging, but the experience should be great. Besides, we needed a good excuse to tow our camper all over and stay in beautiful parks all summer. REALLY.
In other news, Carrie got her first crack at our normal Tuesday road loop today. Since the weather was nice (61 and sunny) we decided to embark from Kat's house and do the tuesday loop with Diana and Craig. We did the entire 20 mile loop, including the Bible Camp Creek climbs. The wind was a little on the brisk side, but I was mostly comfortable in a short sleeve jersey with base layer and tights. It was a little cool in the shade, but since it's still January, I'm not complaining. Carrie did great, once again, making it up all the climbs and even cruising at 20+ mph on some of the later flats. Since we're doing the thirty at Biking Bleckley, this was a good run up for her. We averaged 12.9 mph and Carrie said she felt like she could have done another 10 miles. I'm sure with a tasty sag stop along the way, she'll have no problem. As long as the weather stays reasonable, it should be a good trip.

EXTRA CREDIT QUESTION: What movie ended with a the start of a road trip to get Aerosmith tickets, the "Top Priority of the Summer?" Bonus points if you can name one of the characters that used the phrase on screen.

just a mechanical update

For all of the concerned readers who've flooded my inbox with impassioned concerns for Big Red's health and recovery, I offer a quick update. Nate at Bike Tech sprang into action and hunted down a replacement suspension link. Okay, in truth it was sitting lonely in their spare parts bin. Anyhoo, for the bargain basement price of $20, I've got a slightly used link with bearings in better shape than the ones I had. The link is from an '06 bike and it is heavier than the hollow link of my '07 by a few grams. It's also one friggin' cast piece with no welds to break. I'm sure the hollow links are fine for skinny racer boys, but they won't work in the big boy leagues.
So, after an evening of hectic assembly, I put the bike back on the trails, only to find that my new chain makes it painfully obvious that the middle chainring is way past usable. When you torque on the pedal, the chain skips around the chainring like a big damn ratchet. Plus the pulleys on the rear derailleur sounds like a yard sale coffee grinder full of marbles. I'm off tomorrow at lunch to pick up a new chainring, some derailleur parts, and a new shifter cable.
Fear not, loyal readers, Big Red is on the mend and should be back in the thick of the fight next week. If Sunday truly is sunny, the road bike will be back in service while Red recuperates. Wait till you see the black bike with new TeamFlipper livery.