May in Myopia 3: Safety Guy

So I’m riding my bike home last night and come up behind a guy that is clearly commuting, but isn’t all that comfortable being on the road.

He is riding all the way to the right, in the gutter – so close to the curb I don’t know how his pedals were not hitting.

He has his bike lights on even though it is clear and sunny.

He is sporting one of those fluorescent vests.

He probably had one of those helmet rearview mirrors – but honestly I didn’t notice.

That’s all good. Safety first after all. The disturbing thing is that when we get to Eagle Road. 5 lane 75,000 cars a day Eagle Rd. 60 mph Eagle Rd. Heavy truck traffic Eagle Rd. Dude tries to cross against the signal.

I am guessing his flashing red light and cute vest are not going to help him when he roles out in front of a truck going 60 through his GREEN light.

Freak’n moron.

May in Myopia 2: Lance Armstrong Wannabe Guy

Again, riding your bike to work is a good thing. But sheeesh people, get a life.

I am commuting home yesterday on the greenbelt. Carrying my big commuter bag, spinning easy, calling out ‘on your left’ – basically doing my best to be Joe commuter. I come up behind a guy on one of those road bikes with flat handlebars. He is sporting the spandex under baggies look, along with the nice cycling t-shirt.

I call out to pass and as I am going by the guy gives me a speed racer look and shifts down – accelerating. You have got to be kidding me. WTF. Did the race start somewhere back there and I missed it? Is he afraid I am going to get to the library before him and check out that sweet new Jack Johnson CD; get to the coffee shop first and get my latte before him? You’re killing me moron.

I give the guy my best eyebrows raised, not amused look and accelerate a bit myself to finish the pass. Then the dude hops on my wheel. I don’t mind having people on my wheel – unless it is TG or Lance Armstrong Wannabe Guy (hmmm, maybe they are the same guy). What is this guy doing? Is he going to jump around me and take the win at the wooden bridge? or the fireman training place? or the place where the bums live under the bridge? Aargh…

So I proceeded to pick the worst lines on the greenbelt until the dude bounced off. Passive aggressive what?

May in Myopia: No Hands Guy

I hate May in Motion – the month that everyone is supposed to do the alternative transportation thing. I am all for fewer cars, saving the planet and all that; I just whish people could use their heads when they do it.

May in Myopia brings an all new cast of characters to my daily commute – the 4 or 5 miles on the green belt in particular. My favorite MIM character is No Hands Guy. Everyone has seen no hands guy, maybe some of us ARE no hands guy. He is the dude that rides his bike sitting bolt upright with his hands folded across his chest. The posture is usually accompanied by an air of superiority and vanity (maybe even a snooty look on his face) – as if he is displaying his superior cycling skill.

The really good (or bad) ones go no hands over tree roots, around corners, passing pedestrians, and sometimes even through greenbelt shortcuts. Every time I pass one it is all I can do not to tap their handlebars a bit on the way by. I am pretty impressed that they have the bike handling skills of a 10 year old – it just kills me. Riding with no hands is for getting stuff out of your pockets, not for commuting you moron.

Phew, I feel better now.

Since it is May now, and this is my training blog – I put in about 750 miles and 7 lovely hours on the trainer in April.

More on May in Myopia later…

Worlds Worst Mountain Biker

Yes, I am the worlds worst mountain biker. I went for my first mountain bike ride the other day and found out that I suck. I thought that I would be ok, but I wasn’t, I sucked. Going uphill – I sucked. Going downhill – I really sucked. On the flats – well there were no flats, but I would have sucked. On the pavement – I think I was OK.

As with most of my endeavors I started off on the wrong foot. I went out for a 40 mile road ride earlier in the day and did a bit of climbing. I figured I could get away with it because I was going on an ‘easy’ mountain bike ride later. I should have known better – no ride with Chris C. is ‘easy’ - and it was a mountain bike ride, a sport which I apparently suck at.

We started out going uphill (who knew that there were mountains in mountain biking). I thought to myself "Self, this isn't going to be 'easy'".

I was concerned about my back tire spinning out so I kept my weight back, and the front tire kept hopping off the ground – I know, I suck. So I tried to scoot forward, you can’t scoot a fat ass like mine on a hill that steep so I needed to stand and reposition my anterior end. I stood up and the front end was all mushy – I know, I suck. So I imagine there is a ‘sweet spot’ that you need to find for these situations. I further imagine that is sitting with the tip of the saddle penetrating my prostate.

So we get to the top of the hill. It wasn’t all bad there were some cool switchbacks, and gnarly steep sections that I was amazed you could ride a bike up. Anyhow, time to start going down – at least that would be easy right – nope.

I felt like Arlo Guthrie flying down the hill in the motorcycle song. I am pretty sure I hit 80 mph or more. There were rocks, and bushes, and other gnarly shit. There were turns, and jumps, and scary drop-offs. After I accepted the fact that I was going to die and just went with the flow it wasn’t so bad – but I still sucked.

I think it must be the shorts. If I would have worn baggy shorts, or at least less flashy spandex I would have been better?

Spin-o-rama

I knew I was in trouble from the start. I showed up early, but decided to line up in back by my teammates. I looked around and found that I was surrounded by sweet new bikes with aerodynamic tubing, integrated aerobars and fancy red shifters. Then I looked down at my steed – square tubing, a little metal half loop for aerobars, and a crappy shifter with exposed inner workings. Ahh nuts.

Oh well, I was feeling pretty good so I thought I could at least keep pace with the people next to me in the back, and maybe even catch the guys in front of me. We started pretty easy, but it quickly escalated as a skinny blonde chick in front kept jumping and going faster. Still feeling pretty good, I poured on the power to close on the people in front of me….

I pedaled harder – didn’t catch them. Shifted down and pedaled harder – still didn’t catch them. Must have been those damn aerodynamic bikes they had. Defeated, I resolved to just sit behind them the rest of the way. Depressed, it seemed like I wasn’t going anywhere. Just the same butts in front of me. When you sit on the same wheel for too long you notice things you would normally see – like I could see the tags of the guys shorts in front of me through the spandex. Now that is just wrong.

I guess that is just how fitness instructors and spin bike riders role. I hope I don’t see another spin bike (or short tags) again.

God's Country

God’s Country, God’s Gospel, God’s Classical, God’s Rock, God’s Pop, and even God’s Punk! Have you ever noticed that when you are on a roadie in rural anywhere that the only radio stations you can get are religious channels?

I just got back from a little work related roadie to the armpit of Idaho, Lewiston. I shouldn’t say armpit, it really is quite a nice place – especially if you like the smell of pulp mills.

Anyhow, when you drive to Lewiston you go through about 100 miles of ‘radio free Idaho’. Well almost radio free. There are those religious stations – you know, the religious country music channel, the religious pop music channel, the religious talk channel, and even the religious punk channel.

I decided to give it a chance on the way to Lewiston this time. It didn’t last too long.

I discovered whatever the beat, whatever the riff, the chorus was always the same. It was either ‘I love Jesus’ or ‘I’m not worthy’. Don’t get me wrong – there is nothing wrong with loving Jesus (there may be something wrong with feeling that you aren’t worthy though) – it just isn’t what I need to keep me awake on my way home.

Why aren’t there any normal stations out there anyway?

Thank You, ‘play my iPod through the car stereo inventor guy’. I couldn’t have made it without you.

Spring Sprung???

It only took 4 months and 6 races, but spring finally sprung on the local peloton on Sunday. At least spring as I know it in Idaho – hot temps, little wind, and no precipitation. It was warm enough that the pasties were out again – this time both arms and legs – but I must say, they weren’t as pasty as the last time.

Emmett-Roubaix is a polarizing event around here. You either can’t wait for it to get here or you can’t wait for it to be over. I am in the first group I love that race. But coming in off a less than stellar spring series with no real chance of sticking with the leaders, much less winning I just wanted to survive the two miles of gravel that I would have to ride.

Actually I wasn’t too concerned about the gravel going in because I was pretty sure I would be dropped by the time the race got there and I would get to traverse it as I pleased. I hate it when I am wrong. Somehow I was still with the lead pack when the gravel hit.

I survived an early bonus escapade into the gravel after being forced off the road by an Lost River rider about a dozen miles into the race. There I was feeling good about being with the leaders after the first climb when I guy comes over giving me the choice of my front wheel in his rear, or going off the road. Been to the first one before so I opted for number two. Ultimately my off-road adventure ended with me hopping off the bike and running back to the road – then chasing like hell to get back on. I did get back on, survived the second hill – but was in the back at the first gravel stretch.

The gravel was gravelly. Ultimately I went faster in it than quite a few – I knew that extra weight would come in handy some time. Of course I still got dropped. I spent the rest of the race chasing in a pretty good chase group, but ultimately gave up on the second trip through the gravel. Kevin Donovan, and Tim Doelman really just dragged 7 or 8 of us to the finish hill from there.

I finished 12th in cat 3 out of about 20. I felt pretty good most of the way. Somewhere along the way I crossed over into the second group of people that don’t love Emmett-Roubaix, they just want it to be over. I think my will to race got jarred out in the gravel the second time around.

Beer Me…