Review: The Enlightened Cyclist

 As an atheist, there are few things that I do religiously, but reading BikeSnobNYC is definitely one of them.  Bike Snob is hilarious.  Sometimes I read his blog at work and I literally laugh out loud while surrounded by customers (I also scroll very quickly past the pictures of naked ladies on recumbents).

Bike Snob's first book was super funny too.  I think my favourite bit was when he call triathletes "the turduckens of the cycling world."  Again, I frequently laughed out loud while reading it, but it was also educational.  I now know about the dynamics between different kinds of cyclists and the history of the bicycle.  All around, I enjoyed this book immensely and heartily recommend it to anyone who enjoys cycling.

So that's why I'm very sorry to say that I obtained less enjoyment from Bike Snob's new book, The Enlightened Cyclist. 

Generally, it's about commuting by bike, and the attaining of transcendence through this activity.  I agree with the premise.  Bike commuting makes sense for individuals and society, plus it just makes a person feel really good (because of the green thing, but also because of all the endorphins and the fresh air).  Personally, I love riding my bike to work, or to the grocery store, or to a friends house for beer, or whatever.  It's awesome!  I hope to do it for the rest of my life.

But The Enlightened Cyclist is all about bike commuting in New York, and the problems in getting around (whether by bike or car) that they have in New York just don't exist in other places.  For example, "Shoaling".  I had never heard of this phenomenon before, where cyclists actually butt in line at stop lights.  That's crazy!  I'm generally the only cyclist on the road on my way to work, so this would never happen to me.  My commuting problems include drivers waving me through stop signs because they think that I'm a pedestrian and they don't know that I'm supposed to obey traffic rules.  I live in a town with one bike lane that doesn't lead anywhere.  I have to commute on a mountain bike because my route requires me to jump over numerous curbs and navigate a rutted gravel parking lot.

Needless to say, I found it hard to relate to the commuter problems encountered by Bike Snob.

I also found the book to be less funny that the blog.  Bike Snob is trying to get a serious point across here, and he layers in philosophy and psychology to explain the nature of people commuting.

However, the idea behind it all is really good.  Cars do have a role.  They are perfect for hauling large things and going long distances.  But a bike is better for getting around in small areas.  It's quick and easy and it's good for people.  I fully support the notion of getting more people to use bikes for day-to-day travel and cars when they are needed.  I hope Bike Snob can convince at least a few people to try it out.

Review: Road to Valor

It's hard to say to what extent my enjoyment of Road to Valor was influenced by my love of cycling.

The book is essentially a biography of World War II era cyclist, Gino Bartali. Bartali was a two-time winner of the Tour de France, but he was also a war hero who helped to save many Italian Jews from the Nazis. His story is an interesting and complex one, but for all that, he isn't a very likeable character.

Gino Bartali won the Tour de France in 1938 and 1948.

For me, the most fascinating parts of the book were those that described the early days of the Tour de France. The final chapters were particularly gripping, and the reader will really feel the tension as Gino struggles through the mountain passes of the Tour and Italy struggles to recover from the war.

I would definitely recommend this book to anyone who is interested in World War II Italy or the history of bicycle racing.

The Ride to Conquer Cancer 2012

Part of me still can't believe that I am sitting here on my couch, warm and dry and protected from the elements.

Last Saturday, Bruce and I (and a few friends) embarked on an epic journey.  After raising over $18,000 for the Alberta Cancer Foundation, we were tasked with riding over 200 kilometres of Alberta foothills.

In the rain.

One might ask why a reasonably sane person would take part in such a ride.  After all, the money has already been raised.  It's not like the physical act of riding is going to save any lives, right?  If we had stayed home and eaten chips all weekend, would anyone have even noticed?

All of these questions ran through my brain as I sat in our vehicle on Saturday morning, contemplating the wet conditions outside and the waiting bicycle leaning against the hood.  Nonetheless, I wiggled into my chamois shorts, donned my "waterproof" gloves and "waterproof" jacket, and prepared to ride.

We were underway by 8:30 am and the rain was light.  Unfortunately, the road was rough and muddy in places (I felt like an old-timey Tour de France racer, circa 1948) and I was shortly quite wet and splattered with muck.  No matter, I was at least managing to keep up with Bruce as he wove amongst the throng of riders.  The rain eventually let up and we rode in cool, overcast conditions between ~km 10 and 80.

My legs felt good.  I was keeping my cadence high, as Selene Yaeger taught me, and I didn't start to feel uncomfortable in my shoulders and wrists until about 50 km in.  This was also roughly the time when the team started to feel warm enough to remove our rain coats and show off our jerseys.

#fuckyoucancer

This only lasted for 30 km, but it felt good!

We rode back into rain shortly after lunch and it persisted, in various intensities, for the remainder of the ride.  The last 20 km were the wettest of the day, soaking my feet right through and obscuring my vision.

We had been told in the morning that the route on day one was 115 km, but this was a lie.  I don't remember who told it, but the actual distance was 120 km, and let me tell you, those were the hardest 5 km of my life up to that point.  We were riding through gentle rolling hills, and every time I crested a hill, I expected to see the camp laid out before me.  This happened over and over and over, until I finally cruised down the big hill to Chain Lakes Provincial Park.

When you bike all day in the rain, you start to really look forward to getting to camp.  You keep thinking about being warm and dry and getting the pressure off your crotch and how relaxed you'll finally feel.  Imagine your disappointment to arrive to pouring rain, leaky tents, wet luggage, and more mud than should reasonably exist in the world.

I don't mean to be critical of the organizers of this charity event, but as a lifelong camper, I suspect that the planners had not done much camping.  Even something as simple as laying down planks in the high-traffic areas (so that people didn't have to walk in the mud and wet) would have done a lot for rider morale.  Rant done.

In terms of sleeping conditions, we were lucky to have not unrolled our bed before noticing the leak.  We mopped up the water and Bruce (my hero) swiped an extra tarp to throw over the top.  It poured rain until 1:30 in the morning, but we were probably some of the driest people in the place.

But morning did arrive, and it was time to leave the dry security of our tent and re-enter the mud pit.  It was no longer raining, but none of our gear was even remotely dry.  I think putting my relatively dry feet back into those wet, muddy bike shoes was one of the hardest parts of the entire weekend.  We dropped off our bags, retrieved our bikes, scarfed down a waffle and a banana, and hit the road once again.

Day two was much more difficult.  My legs were no longer fresh and the mud and wet had taken a psychological toll on me.  Luckily, Bruce remained close by as we rode and I took advantage of the frequent snack stops to keep my motor running.  We did eventually ride out of the rain, but it continued to threaten us all day long.

I knew I was going to make it when we hit the half-way mark.  By this time, I was riding much slower than on day one, but Bruce was with me and I knew my heated seat was waiting at the finish line.  Bruce literally pushed me up some of the longer hills, placing his hand on my back and pedaling for both of us so that I could have a break.

The sky really opened up during the last 20 km or so.  Water was pelting out of the sky, stinging my back and arms through my soaked jacket.  We knew we were close, though, and we really started to hammer on it.  I switched into my big ring and we were passing people like crazy, whipping down the hills at 56 kph in the downpour.  There were only 3 km left to go!

Then Bruce flatted.  I didn't know whether to laugh or cry.  He fixed it up quick and we were back on the road.

We crossed the finish line at 12:05 pm, after 223 km of riding.

223 km on a bike gives one a lot of time to think.  I thought a lot about the similarities between this cycling journey and fighting cancer.  You know when you start out that it's going to be a long haul.  You have to conserve your energy when you can and go balls out when you have to.  Sometimes you climb a huge hill only to find and even bigger one on the other side.  You can feel demoralized at times by the monumental distance, but also encouraged by the strangers at the side of the road in the rain, shouting "YOU CAN DO THIS!"  The support of friends and family can mean everything.  And through it all, you only have two choices: keep fighting or stop.

And that's the worst part; no matter what, some people won't make it to the finish line.  It's heartbreaking. 

So, I'm glad I got out of the car, because maybe now I understand a little better.

Thank you for supporting me.  I would never have made it without you.

www.conquercancer.ca

A Cleatastropic Start to the Cycling Season

Since Christmas, there have been two shiny sets of Crank Brothers pedals sitting in my office.  Santa was kind enough to bring me a set of egg-beaters for my Madone and a set of Mallets for my Lush.  On Boxing Day, I went to Ernie’s and purchased a set of pink and black Specialized cycling shoes that would work with either pedal (I can’t ride two bikes at once, right?  So why have two sets of shoes?).

Although I biked around a bit in the winter, I wasn’t quite brave enough to try out my clipless pedals until conditions were less slippery.  On the Madone, I managed to give the egg-beaters a try back in February, when a warm spell dried out the road for a few days.  This went well.  I was obsessive about remembering to unclip and I didn’t have any of the ridiculous accidents I’ve heard about where riders stop and then tip over in slow motion.  I was pleased.

Mountain biking with clipless pedals has been a different story.  I think maybe the Mallets are harder to clip into than the egg-beaters, but that’s not the only problem.  I know this may be hard to believe, but I am actually quite accident-prone.  And now, I have this terrible fear of having a major mountain biking catastrophe with my feet still attached to my bike.  Bruce, of course, assures me that my feet will unclip themselves in an accident, as if by magic.  I don’t believe it for a second.  I’m probably going to end up with bones poking through my skin and no front teeth.

There’s also this weird scenario where I remember to unclip one foot, then in attempting to unclip the other foot I manage to shift my weight and fall over.  So now I always unclip both feet simultaneously and cruise to a stop with my feet in the air and the pedals spinning freely.  It looks really cool.

Reaction times are also slower.  Last week, I slammed on my brakes when I came around a corner to find a tree in my path.  I skidded to a quick stop (gawd, the Lush has amazing brakes), heart pounding, and then promptly crashed sideways into the dirt.  In retrospect, maneuvering around the tree might have been a good idea.

So, to clip-in or not to clip-in?  The jury is still out.  I’m going to keep using them for the time being, and maybe my issues will resolve with practice.  Certainly, on familiar, relatively open trails, I am comfortable using the Mallets.  In a racing situation with a lot of climbing (like Leadville) they are infinitely superior to flat pedals.  On technical singletrack?  Not a chance. 

Exercise Makes me Sick

My cold symptoms have returned!  Like in February, I am back to waking up every morning unable to swallow, then hacking up a gigantic green booger.  It's unpleasant, to say the least.

And I'm wondering if it's a result of "overtraining".  Now, Bruce scoffed at me recently when I suggested that my sudden immune system failure (after years of never getting sick) could be from overtraining.  I'm barely training at all, let alone overtraining.  But my reasoning isn't that wacky.  I read in this book:

...that overtraining can happen to anyone (even schmucks like me) because it isn't just the training that causes the immune system to be run down, but the cumulative life stress of the trainee in question.  Admittedly, I don't handle stress well and I generally use my down time to re-charge.  Lately, I've spent a lot more of my down time exercising than ever before.  I've also taken on more responsibility at work.  I feel stretched out, like "butter scraped over too much bread" (-Bilbo Baggins).

The other factor is that we went for a road ride on Friday afternoon.  The weather was gorgeous, the road was dry, and I felt really good for the whole ride.  Then I got sick.  I know correlation does not equal causation and all that, but I really feel like if I push myself past my limits my body won't respond well.  And, unfortunately, my limits don't seem very high at the moment.

(Training Techniques for Cyclists also gave me a few other training gems.  It's a short book - I read it in one sitting - but I thought it was useful.)

Why Does Everyone Pick on Poor Portland?

Both PZ Myers and BikeSnob have made fun of hipsters from Portland this week (granted, BikeSnob always makes fun of hipsters from Portland, but still).  I wonder, could these two intelligent and witty bloggers in fact be the same person?

  

See?  They both have very suspicious looking beards and part their hair on the left side.  You'll note that the PZ disguise features grey dye in the beard, glasses, and a pretentiously Portlandish shoulder bag that BikeSnob would never be caught dead in.

It's a clever trick, but I'm onto him.  Whoever he is.

Warm Fuzzies

There is a lot of warm fuzzy bike feelings in the air.  I think this might be a direct result of the spring-ish weather that has been around for the past few days.  Up here in the north, we've been cooped up indoors for the better part of five months, and now we're ready to get outside and enjoy it (even though it's only 10 degrees C, which would keep us indoors at any other time of year).  Many of us are choosing to enjoy the outdoors via bicycle, which is an excellent idea. 

Perhaps it's just a result of "like attracts like" that I seem to be surrounded by so many other bike-minded people.  However, if I allow my optimism to run rampant, I have to admit that it seems like our city might be becoming more bike-friendly than ever before, and that perhaps cycling is experiencing a resurgence in popularity here.

For example, our local bike shop is once again putting on the Trek $30 for 20.  Basically, you keep track of how much you bike to work and they give you a $30 gift card for every 20 rides.  I participated last year and it helped to motivate me to continue bike commuting throughout the summer.  Plus, I bought my first pair of baggy mountain bike shorts with the proceeds!

Also, a while back our city had a workshop about how to love our city and make it a better place called "Love GP".  There were two suggestions for community building projects that received $500 in funding and one of them was a bike takeover.  So now I've joined up with the Grande Fondo committee to plan something bike-alicious for the community.  It's pretty cool that a bike event was chosen out of all the great ideas presented at the Love GP workshop. 

But who doesn't like riding a bike?  It's just nice.