The Decline of the Group Ride?

This week, I got the monthly email newsletter from the Austin Cycling Association, a group I belong to. One item in the missive caught my eye: it said participation in the ACA’s “classic” rides has fallen off considerably. These are group rides the organization (It doesn’t call itself a “club,” so I won’t, either) hosts every Saturday and Sunday. The locations rotate among a couple dozen different spots, and riders can choose from several different distances for each ride.

“Ten or 12 years ago,” said the newsletter, “a typical ACA suburban or country ride would draw 50 or perhaps 70 riders; nowadays, they draw only a dozen or so.” The newsletter expressed bafflement as to why this would be the case.

The ACA is the largest cycling organization in the Austin area, with about 1200 or more members. The rides have always been one of the group’s attractions, so the news that participation was down that much was unexpected.

However, I must admit that although I’ve been a dues-paying member for several years, I myself haven’t taken part in that many rides. When I have, it’s often been because they’re merged with a ride some other group is putting on, such as a training ride for an upcoming charity event. For a couple of years, I’ve resolved to get out on ACA rides more often, because they go to places I rarely ride, and the change of scene would be welcome. But those different places are often 30 or even 40 miles from where I live. In my part of the city, the group doesn’t offer many rides.

Riders mill around before the start of one of our club rides.

Riders mill around before the start of one of our neighborhood club rides.

Those it does put on around my area are routes that I ride a lot — usually with my neighborhood cycling club, so I always go with my club rather than the ACA. And maybe that’s the reason for the decline in ridership. In the five years I’ve been riding, I’ve noticed lots of groups spring up that offer group rides. My neighborhood club is one example. We also have group rides on Saturday and Sunday, and lately, our Saturday rides have grown.

Then there’s the Austin Cycling Meetup group. Meetups are informal gatherings coordinated via a Meetup website — they exist for a wide variety of avocations. The cycling meetup sprang up about five years ago. I’m listed as a Meetup member, but I don’t ride with them anymore, for the same reason as above.

Several bike shops put on their own weekend or weekday evening rides. I’ve been on a few of those. And there are a number of other clubs in the area that all stage their own rides.

I can’t speak for any of the other groups, but my neighborhood club rides attract anywhere from a dozen to three dozen riders on Sunday mornings. That’s dependent on the weather, of course. In fact, I’d say our rides have grown over the last year or so by a little bit. Our Saturday ride had the reputation of being a “fast” ride, but some members will informally post that they’ll be heading out at about the same time, perhaps on a different route, at a different pace, and some of those rides draw decent numbers.

A bright spot in the Austin Cycling Association is the growth of so-called “hosted” rides. These differ from the “classic” rides in that a trained ride leader organizes the ride, they’re rated for speed and climbing, and they’re “no drop” rides. When you go to a classic ride, a ride “starter” furnishes you with a map and cue sheet, says a few words about the route and riding etiquette, and then the riders set off. They separate quickly, and it’s easy to find yourself on your own. I suppose that could be daunting for new riders, but anyone with some experience should be comfortable by themselves, especially with a map to help them out.

So, I don’t quite know what to make of this. Maybe it’s just that people prefer riding in smaller groups. Maybe it’s the early start time — most classic rides start at 8 a.m., which is another reason I’m not likely to drive 30 miles to get there. The ACA seems befuddled by the trend.

What’s your experience in your area? Have you noticed a falloff in group ride numbers? Or are yours flourishing? Are they large rides, or small? Do the routes vary, or are they repeated week to week? Let know in the comments.

The Un-Club Ride

Sunday morning is our usual club ride. But sometimes, the proposed route isn’t one I’m interested in doing. Other times, a more desirable alternative pops up.

That was the case today, when my friend Debra proposed a ride near Dripping Springs, in her neck of the woods. Barbara, a former club member, would be coming up from her new home in San Antonio to join us. Debra’s husband Russ and our pal Jerry would round out the group.

This would be a B-ride alternative to the main club ride. So what makes it the “un”-club ride? Well, see for yourself.

We gather at a nice park on the edge of Dripping Springs. The regular club ride leaves at 8:15. We were to go at “around nine.” At 9:05, we were still milling around, pumping up tires, chit-chatting, putting the finishing touches on our kit. Finally, we rolled out, and made it, oh a couple hundred yards to where a road branched off. Jerry and Russ took that road so they could take a nature break before we really got going. Although we leave from a park, its lack of facilities is one of its most notable features.

Soon we were rolling in earnest, coming up to the junction with Creek Road, which would be our route for the next six miles. Jerry suddenly braked and pulled over. We all stopped to wait for him — all except Russ, who kept going, oblivious to the stop. Jerry had just put new wheels on his bike, and his computer magnet wasn’t properly adjusted yet.

That taken care of, we started rolling in earnest for real now. Another mile and a half down the road, we take a fork to the right along picturesque Onion Creek. Barbara stopped quickly, then Debra. One of the arm rests for Barbara’s aero bars had fallen off. Barbara picked it up, and then she and Debra looked for the mounting screw and nut for the arm rest, without any luck. We were now 1.8 miles into the ride, and had stopped three times. It’s a good thing the weather was glorious.

We were rolling in earnest for really real now. Our aim was to catch Russ, who was well out of sight. Our blistering 12 mph pace probably wouldn’t enable us to do that, so we meandered along, chatting about things that have to do with bikes, and other things that don’t. As always, I enjoy riding through this area. I’ve done it often enough that I tend to take things for granted. Today, I tried to take in the sights and sounds — like this uniquely-named road that met ours.

Debra had suggested doing the Mt. Sharp Road route — one of several options we had in this area. Mt. Sharp was the longest and hilliest of these. I hadn’t been on that road for nearly a year, and was looking forward to riding it again. But in the meantime, we had some hills to climb, some cattle guards to cross, and some more stops to make.

We’re close together for a change. Barbara, Debra, Jerry and Russ. (Click pics to enlarge.)

At one of those stops, a whopping 12 miles into the ride, Debra opined that Mt. Sharp was out of the mix today. She didn’t have the energy to ride a long hilly route. The rest of us thought that was a smart choice. We decided to take Longhorn Trail instead, which is considerably shorter, but includes a decent hill that delivers a high speed descent, and winds through the middle of a small ranch.

This goat parked atop a small rock, master of all he surveyed.

Debra and Barbara cruise through the Hill Country.

After the ranch, the route is more downhill than up, overall, and on one stretch we were traveling between 25-30 mph when we rounded a bend and found the road ripped up. the county is going to resurface it, but in the meantime, the existing surface has to be removed. It looked like one of us would wipe out for sure, but we’re nothing if not expert — or lucky — bike handlers, and we managed to stay upright across some bone-jarring road. It probably didn’t last more than a half mile, but it seemed like the longest section of the day. We regrouped for another brief rest stop — this would be about our sixth this morning. We were averaging stops roughly every four miles. Except when we fit one in after only two miles.

Jerry stoically waits for the others to catch up so we can take yet another rest.

Back at the park, Jerry asked me what mileage showed on my computer.

“27.3 miles,” I answered.

“Hm, that’s a problem,” he said. “Mine shows 27.4.”

“That’s what mine rounds up to,” I said. “I’ve got 27.365. I think you’re in the ballpark. Don’t worry about it.”

But Jerry grumbled that his computer just wasn’t right. Debra’s showed 26.6. She wasn’t concerned about the discrepancy in the least.

Once we got all packed up, Debra suggested stopping at a little Mexican restaurant in Dripping Springs for a post-ride lunch. Most of us ordered tall iced teas. Russ ordered a Dr. Pepper (He’s a true Texan). The waitress brought the drinks, except for the Dr. Pepper. Seemed they were out. We placed our orders for food — Russ went for the Carne Asada (thinly-sliced grilled steak) — and chatted about a myriad of non-bike subjects, when the waitress came by again. No carne asada. He had enchiladas and a Coke.

I always look forward to Sunday mornings. Club rides are great. But on days like today, the un-club ride can be even greater.

Snippets From a B Ride

The emails flew fast and furious last evening. Our usual time to leave for the Sunday club ride is 8:15 a.m., but the forecast called for temps in the 30s at that time. I had planned to go, but wimped out when I saw the prognostication. Looks like a lot of others did, too — including some A riders. We had 13 in all for the B ride this morning at 9.

One of the problems we have in Texas is that the weather is rarely that cold when we ride, so most of us don’t have the kinds of warm cycling clothes our Northern brethren have. I was feeling a bit out of place in my red long-sleeve jersey (over a short-sleeved club jersey) and screaming green vest, because our club kit is white, blue, and yellow. Most riders had at least a club jersey on the outside. Then Jerry D. pulled into the lot.

“I’m glad I called you to coordinate clothing,” I called to him.

Bike Noob (left), Jerry D.

“Why, we’re the Gay Blades today, aren’t we?” he retorted.

Lots of chatter before the ride about clothing. Many wore glove liners, multiple layers, booties, ear muffs. Then there was Brian, our club Canadian. He showed up in a windbreaker over a short-sleeved jersey, and shorts. “It’s nice to ride without 10 feet of snow on the ground,” he said. The temperature when we rolled out was 38 degrees (3C).

One of the reasons I enjoy the B rides is that ride leader Jordan insists on keeping them “pleasurefests,” as opposed to what he calls the “sufferfests” of the A rides. But some A riders joined our little group this morning. David V., a Cat 3 racer and the club bike mechanic, said he’d done a hard hills workout the previous day, and wanted a recovery ride. There was New York John, and Marianne, who rarely rides with the club. She brought Tom, a friend of her husband’s, who was fixed up with a less-than-perfect bike. It wouldn’t shift out of the big ring. That didn’t seem to bother Tom, who is visiting from Boulder. Pippa, another A rider, was there to keep Judy company. Judy would normally ride with the As, but has been recovering from two broken bones in her wrist, suffered during a fall (don’t brace!).

About three miles into the ride is our first challenge: Davis Hill. It’s an ordinary hill, that can be tough for newer riders. The problem is, there’s a stoplight just before you make the turn for the hill, and hill begins immediately. “The difference between As and Bs on Davis Hill,” said my friend Rick, “is that the Bs shift down and try to spin up the hill, and the As get out of their saddles and attack the hill.”

I attacked today, but I was huffing and puffing, and sitting down again by the time I got to the top — when to my left, Tom glided by. In the big ring. Not a care in the world. Okay, I won’t worry about him today, I said to myself.

We crossed Interstate 35, and were headed for the country, when David V. and New York John caught and passed us. We had taken a major road to the I-35 junction, one that had a short stoplight. David and John had taken a side street, but their stoplight was a long one. “I don’t know why you Bs complain about As going too fast,” said David, “when you leave us behind.”

Out in the country, I found myself next to Laura, who’s become a regular on the B rides. She was ecstatic over her recent bike fit. “I feel so much more power than I used to,” she said. Her husband Mike, one of our A riders, had taken her to a prominent local racer who fits bikes at a local bike shop. “He put some things on my shoes that keep the angle natural,” Laura explained. “The fit took about two hours. When Mike asked him if I already had nearly a good fit, he said I wasn’t even close. I can really feel the difference.”

At the turnaround in Creedmoor, Jordan asked me to explain the return route to everyone. We were riding a “lollipop” route, with the same out and return, but a nice loop in the middle. “When we get to the 90-degree right turn on the way we came,” I said, “look for the fork onto Thaxton Road. Take that.”

Back on the road, I was near the rear to keep tabs on one of our slower riders. Sure enough, when we got to Thaxton Road, Judy and Laura blasted by without turning. Several of us raised a shout to get them to turn around. I kidded Judy about missing the turn even after the route had been explained at the rest stop. She was unapologetic.

“When people start telling me directions, it’s like the teacher in the ‘Peanuts’ strip,” she said. “All I hear is Wah-wah-wah-wah-wah.”

I’m glad she didn’t miss it, because Thaxton Road was repaved last year, and it’s nice. The highlight for me is a turn at the top of a hill. We get to blast down into a subdivision on a smooth, wide two-lane with no traffic. I made sure everyone was behind me, and started down, pedaling hard in the big ring. At the bottom, I waited. And waited. I could see back to the top of the hill. Apparently they had decided to gather there to wait for slower riders. Eventually, I saw them coming down. When they finally caught up to me, I asked who had the highest speed down that hill. I had hit 34.8 mph. I figured at least a couple could go faster than that.

“I rode the brakes all the way down,” said one. “That was scary,” said another. “No way I was going to look at my computer going that fast,” said a third.

Two miles from the finish, we passed several of the fast group fixing a flat at the side of the road. We kept on to the finish. They caught up to us a few minutes later. Marianne had been the flat victim.

“A screw went right through the middle of my tire,” she said. “I got screwed, and I couldn’t even enjoy it.”

The outside tables at Starbucks were full. The A ride had come in after a trip out to the Formula 1 race track being built in Austin. The chatter was loud, full of laughs. Several passers-by stopped to ask about the club, its rides, average speed. We urged them to come out next week. It looks like the B rides will start at 9:15 for the next couple of months — everyone seems to like leaving then, instead of the earlier time. A good day in the saddle — the kind of day that makes me want to ride again.

Two Cycling Viewpoints

An interesting discussion flared up on our club’s email board this week. It all started innocently enough. The club president posted that riders new to the club shouldn’t worry about getting dropped on club rides.

“For some part of nearly all of my rides I could fairly be said to have been dropped,” he wrote. “The fast movers [they are NOT all guys] will head off into the distance while I am apparently not bright enough to wait for the slower riders.”

But he added that eventually the fastest of the slow riders will catch up to him, and they will pull each other to the next rally stop.

“At that point it is not at all unusual for some riders from both groups to talk about heading home while others continue to make tracks,” he continued. ”Practically never do I ride home alone.”

Our main club ride is on Sunday morning. We meet at a local Starbucks at 8 a.m., and roll out at 8:15. Most of the riders usually fall into what I call the A group. They can maintain a pretty good clip. Last week, they averaged over 17 mph for a 50-mile ride. That’s a pace that would scare off newcomers.

He was called out by the club secretary, who lives some distance west of town and seldom does the Sunday rides, unless a group heads out to her neck of the woods to ride the Hill Country.

“This message is a bit misleading,” she posted. “I know if I rode with the group, I’d have to bust my rear to keep up, and then would eventually poop out and be dropped.  Not fun.”

She added, “Unless a person is a hammerhead (not that there’s anything wrong with that!), he/she won’t particularly enjoy the regular club rides.”

The president’s wife, who started out as a B rider but worked her way up to A level (athletic woman, she) chimed in with a valid point: “The reason the Sunday ride has become what it is, is because it has been the one consistent ride of the group [departing every Sunday] and these are the riders who have consistently showed up.” ‘Tis true. That may be one reason that the club has a reputation around town of being a bunch of hammerheads.

This has been an issue at least since I joined the club several years ago. I got tired enough of trying to keep up with the fast pace of the rides that I started calling for B-level riders to come out, and we’d do our own thing on Sunday. That met with some success, especially in the more temperate months. The fellow who began the B rides in our club has now rejoined after living elsewhere for several years, and he’s begun organizing B rides again. Turnout is starting to pick up — even bringing in some A riders who want to go easier on a given week, for whatever reason.

The controversy (perhaps too strong a word) may be situated in differing objectives for different riders. The president revealed his point of view later in his post: “Don’t pass up the opportunity to test yourself a bit,” he wrote. That seems to indicate a point of view that cyclists ought to strive to get faster, maybe to ride longer. But it’s just that point of view that puts off a lot of would-be members.

“I do love to ride, and love the workout it gives me,” the club secretary posted.  ”I just prefer to get my workout a little more slowly.  I’m in no rush.  The social factor is a big one for me.  If I’m riding so hard that I can barely breathe, then I can’t talk either.”

That viewpoint is shared by most of those who call themselves B riders — including yours truly. Some riders want to physically improve themselves. Others like cycling for its recreational value. I just posted a B ride for Sunday, so whatever a rider’s tastes, we can accommodate them.

Is this yin and yang between different ability levels unique to my club, or does it exist in yours, too? Comments are open.

Big Ol’ Club Ride

The word went out early in the week: Our club sponsor, the Bicycle Sports Shop, would be involved in today’s club ride. They would have a mechanic on hand at the beginning of the ride, and make water, Nuun, and energy bars available. Afterward, they’d furnish a light breakfast. The member who posted the ride urged a big turnout of both A and B riders.

And he got it. I counted 38 riders at the start. Our typical Sunday ride draws 15-20. We jammed the parking lot of the Starbucks where we traditionally start our rides, much to the consternation of casual coffee drinkers who tried to negotiate their way to an open space.

We do tend to clutter the parking lot.

A Bicycle Sports Shop mechanic fixes a flat before the ride.

Pre-ride chit chat.

Penny, Judy, and Barbara. Judy is the A rider.

Although I often lead the B rides, I opted not to today, since both As and Bs would be traveling the same route. The Bs would just turn around sooner on the familiar out-and-back. So there was no designated B ride leader. That probably led to problems later.

One problem that set in involved my cyclocomputer. I cleaned the bike yesterday, but didn’t realign the speed sensor with its magnet, so I got no reading for the first two miles of the ride. When I stopped to fix things, most of the peloton had passed me by.

A few people were straggling, I knew. We take a convoluted route to get out to the main road for this trip, cutting through Granada Hills, a hilly neighborhood with lots of turns. If you haven’t done this ride several times, it’s easy to get lost. My friend Penny pointed me out to several riders who were back with her. “See that guy in the club jersey?” she said. “He won’t leave you behind.”

I almost didn’t. I made a bad shift going up a hill and dropped my chain. When I stopped to get it back on, several more riders passed me. I guessed I was now at the end of the pack. Unbeknownst to me, Penny and three other women were still a bit behind, but they lost me in all the left and right turns I made through the neighborhood.

I got stuck at the stoplight at U.S. Highway 290, which we have to cross to continue on our route. Now I was alone, and catching the group was out of the question. But it’s also a familiar feeling to me on this ride, so I didn’t fret about it.

Soon I came up to a rider on the side of the road. It was Rick, Penny’s husband, talking to her on the phone. He waved me by, then caught up to me a few minutes later.

“Penny got lost in Granada Hills,” Rick said. “I told her to track the route on her GPS. She’ll be okay.”

Rick pulled away in an effort to catch the main pack. I plugged along, and a half hour later reached the turnaround point for the Bs. Several other riders were there, and two I had passed came up to round out the group. We had an uneventful ride back for seven miles, when we pulled into a convenience store. (I wish I had some pictures from the road, but I dropped my camera, and had to reassemble it once we got back.)

Three women who had started with the group were at the store. I think they were part of those who lost us early on, because they were joking about having to find their way back through Granada Hills again, and weren’t sure they could do it. Even though two wore club jerseys, I had never seen them before and did not know them.

“If you wait five more minutes,” I said, “I’ll show you the way. But let me rest a bit.”

“No, that’s okay,” said one of the women. “You’ll probably catch up to us anyway.” They headed out with some other riders.

I remained in the lot with Barbara, whom I had ridden with several times before. We talked about dogs and drank some cold water, then I said I planned to take it easy on the way back. I knew she wasn’t familiar with Granada Hills either, so I told her I’d stick with her to guide her through it.

It was a good thing I did. At several intersections, she wanted to turn the opposite way from the route. We finally got to Starbucks, where we joined the Bs who had set out from the turnaround before us. The three women weren’t there.

Barbara bought her coffee from Starbucks, rather than drink the outside stuff.

Bicycle Sports Shop made good on their breakfast plans. Bagels with different varieties of cream cheese covered one outside table, as well as a container of coffee. I’m not sure about bringing outside coffee to a Starbucks, but I was grateful for the food. By the time I finished my bagel, some of the A riders were drifting in. Soon, the three women showed up.

“We couldn’t find our way through Granada Hills,” one of them told me. “After we rode around in circles, we finally asked some residents how to get out. It turned out they were cyclists. They got in their pickup and guided us out.”

“I got lost in Granada Hills” became an oft-repeated refrain as more riders showed up. Although it’s a twisty route, I thought once people rode it two or three times they’d have it figured out. Nuh-uh.

Penny rolled in, too. She did find her way out of Granada Hills and rode over to the Veloway to get in some extra mileage. “My GPS kept sending me out to Highway 290,” she said. “It thinks I’m a car, and won’t show me the side streets to take.”

Despite the problems, everyone seemed happy with the turnout and the ride. It’s the biggest club ride in my memory, and I’ve been a member for more than three years. But if we go through Granada Hills again, I think I’ll have to ride sweep.

I’m Through Riding With the Club — Unless…

The club ride posted for this morning would take us west of town into the Texas Hill Country. The hills aren’t killers — they’re mostly rollers — and the road doesn’t have too much traffic. I figured that on Father’s Day, traffic would be even less than usual.

I told the ride leader that I would turn back at Ranch Road 12, which makes for a nice 30-mile round trip. The rest of the group would go another eight miles before turning around.

“Good,” he said. “You can wait for me there.”

He always jokes about being a slow ride leader — even hangs a tiny red lantern from his saddle.

About 13 of us started. Father’s Day held down the turnout, too. Most were A riders, although I was happy to see “Big Steve” turn into the parking lot. (We call him “Big Steve” to differentiate him from “Little Steve” — a former state champion in the time trial and road race in the 60-64 year-old class.) “Big Steve” is younger, taller, and a hefty 240 pounds.

As usual, a pleasant rollout. Less than a mile into the ride, a tiny fawn — not much bigger than a dog — darted across the road in front of the lead riders. We got a good dose of warmup hills going through a nearby neighborhood.

Out of the city, speed picked up as we got closer to Fitzhugh Road, which would be our main route of the day. I noticed that the gap between the group and me was starting to widen. But I caught and passed Big Steve, who seemed to be having trouble with the rolling hills.

Usually, when we turn onto Fitzhugh Road, the peloton regroups to wait for laggards. I made the turn, and no group. I looked back, and no Steve. Hm. He must have abandoned the ride. The wind was fierce, and I started up Fitizhugh by myself.

Church Vacation Bible School sign at RR 12 promotes "Hometown Nazareth -- Where Jesus Was a Kid"

The run up to Ranch Road 12 is about six miles. I was alone for the entire six. Crosswinds threatened to knock me off the bike. The ride was more of a slog than I like.

I got to Ranch Road 12, and the group wasn’t waiting there, either. They’d moved on. I turned around and moved the bike off the road into the shade of some trees. The temperature was well into the 90s by now. Time for a break.

And who do I see coming up the road but Big Steve!

“Man, I’ve been off the bike for two weeks,” he said. “It really catches up to you fast.”

We chatted a bit while munching on energy bars and drinking water. Then it was time to head home. Steve took the lead, and it was fun for me to draft the big guy. He pedaled like crazy, while I coasted. But it wasn’t long before the hills got him. I passed, and pulled him most of the rest of the way home.

Under a flapping umbrella at Starbucks, we talked about the ride. Both of us agreed the Sunday club rides had lost their allure for us.

“The group is getting smaller,” Steve said. “We used to have lots more come out.”

“A process of self-selection seems to be going on here,” I said. “The fast riders turn out, and when slower riders show up, they’re scared off because they get dropped just like we were today.”

I mulled it over a bit, then made my decision. I won’t be doing any more Sunday club rides.

Unless…a couple of years ago, we had a small, but reliable, cadre of B-level riders who would come out on Sundays, if they knew there would be a ride for them with people of their ability.

Maybe it’s time to revive the Bs.

How To Join a Bike Club – Part 2

Guest poster Don Blount continues his quest for the perfect bike club.

Stockton, Calif., where I live, is not far from the foothills of the Sierra Mountains. There is plenty of serious climbing and steep grades available for any rider who goes there. Everyone tells me that you can fake it on the flats but that climbing really shows the type of rider you are.

The Stockton Bicycle Club does a lot of riding in the hills.

During a day off from work, I did a first-time solo 27-mile ride around Lake Camanche with 1,900 feet of climbing and some 14 percent grades. The friend who provided me with the route described it as a nice “introductory” ride in the hills.

It was not easy but it was fun. Some of those roads obviously were not designed by a highway engineer but were once cow paths that someone decided to pave over.

A few days after I did this ride, I received an e-mail notice of a 40-mile ride with the Stockton club. It was described as a longer but similar ride to the Lake Camanche ride.

I was in.

It took me about 45 minutes to make the 29-mile ride to the meeting place – Charles Howard Park in Ione, Calif. The park is named after the owner of Seabiscuit. The group of about a dozen people included both men and women. Introductions were made and we took off.

This was a talkative group, which makes sense if you’re going to spend a few hours with someone whether on or off a bike. Of course quiet settled in as we hit the rollers and more steeply graded hills.

Again, all of these riders were older than me, a few retired including a 62-year-old podiatrist who rode 18,000 miles last year. He planned on riding 100 miles that day.

We ended up with just under 43 miles and 2,300 feet of climbing.

I think I held my own as several other riders asked me if I had ridden much in the hills and were surprised when learning I had not.

I submitted my membership a few days later.

It was not much money and riding in the hills with anyone will help make me a better rider, which is ultimately what I want.

I eventually heard from the Stanislaus County Bicycle Club.

I was told I hadn’t heard back sooner because the “general email address” I found on its website went to spam. Apparently had I kept looking I would have found more specific contact information.

However, I was fine with how things worked out.

When deciding on a bike club I would ask: What are you looking for? Do you want to be challenged? Do you like to ride fast? Do you want to climb? Do you want to just go out leisurely and putz around? Do you want to volunteer at events or mind if you are required to do so? And how deeply involved do you want to become with the club and its events?

Some of these things I still need to figure out, but I probably made the biggest decision in joining a club, which also enabled me to meet one of my cycling goals for the year.

How To Join a Bike Club – Part 1

Guest poster Don Blount suggests you not join the first bike club you hear about — first, check out several, then decide.

One of my riding goals for this year was to begin doing group rides. Mostly because of my schedule, it’s difficult for me to find time to ride with others. During the week I have work. Sunday mornings, when many groups go out, I have church and I also have young children at home, and a wife.

But I do have a window on Saturday mornings. So I have targeted a few of those a month as an opportunity to get out.

I found that just picking a group and riding with them isn’t as easy as it appears.

I had to figure out what I wanted in a club and as part of that process, I e-mailed three groups within a 45-minute drive of my home.

One of three, the Stanislaus County Bicycle Club I didn’t hear back from for weeks (more on this group later).

The Stockton (Calif.) Bicycle Club got back to me within a few days but said most of the rides they were doing in March were too difficult for people just coming out. One of the membership people sent a followup e-mail: “The SBC rides are often heavy with Type-A’s.  Many of us are retired with time and disposable income. Sometimes the rides are not friendly to the new person but you’re doing the right thing by making inquires … hah!”

He went on: “That’s the other thing — we are mostly in the AARP-Social Security Range. Young riders come out but it’s almost always ‘one and done’.  Can’t blame ‘em.”

So it didn’t sound too attractive.

I also received an e-mail from the third group, the Sacramento (Calif.) Wheelmen. This is a large group, its website says it has 600 members. The group usually has three to four rides each Saturday. One of those often begins about a 40-minute drive from my home.

“We hope you can join us. You don’t have to be a member to join us on rides, but if you do, you might decide to join up.”

I did join them for a 40-miler on a recent windy Saturday.

I had a good time in spite of the wind. I was most surprised to see that most of these riders were older than me. One guy was 75 and logged 15,000 miles last year. That’s farther than I drove my car.

When I asked how he managed to do that, one of the others chimed in, “He’s retired!”

The ride leader was 70 years old.

They weren’t hammer heads. I could even hang with the A group, but that may have been because of the wind as they just tried to keep the group together.

I had an enjoyable time riding with them and may look for other opportunities to ride with them again.

I’m not looking to race and I doubt I would socialize much with this group, in part because of the distance from my home. But I found the joy in riding with others.

This experience would become my baseline for comparison when I joined the Stockton Bicycle Club for a ride two weeks later.


The Bike Fest

This morning I decided to forego my usual Saturday morning ride to volunteer for the Kiker Bike Fest. This is the second year in a row that my club, the Circle C Ranch Cycling Club, sponsored the bike fest at Kiker Elementary School in southwest Austin. It’s a chance for kids to learn cycling skills and have some fun in the bargain.

Last year, the bike fest attracted about 300 kids from the area, and we expected that many or more this year. Stations are set up to fit kids with new helmets, do quick bike repairs, learn the correct way to start and stop, ride a tight figure 8, ride in traffic with correct hand signals, and even ride a mountain bike trail behind the school.

JoeJoe, who leads our Sunday morning A group rides, fits a girl with a new helmet donated by the Texas Medical Association.

Stay inside the lines!

Stay inside the lines!

Pat and I handled the Straight Line – Scanning station. The kids had to ride a straight line between two chalk lines 18 inches apart. Then, we brought them back again to practice looking over their shoulders. Once they got halfway down the lines, I yelled “Look!” and they were supposed to look back, make eye contact with me, and continue. Because most of them were quite young, I did not point one way or another, as is usually done in this exercise, and they did not have to say which way I pointed. For many of them, staying upright on the slight downhill track was challenge enough.

It’s been awhile since we had kids at home, and both Pat and I were disconcerted to see how some parents hover over their children. One mother grabbed her little girl’s handlebars, and pulled her down the lines — nearly tipping her over several times.

But mostly, people seemed to enjoy the event. Parents liked how well organized the whole affair was, and many indicated they would be back again next year.

DebDebra gets a young rider rolling on the traffic safety course.

One highlight of the morning was a group ride on the nearby Veloway, led by former Tour de France racer (Motorola, Cofidis, U.S. Postal, Telekom) Kevin Livingston. This was assuredly not a hammerfest, as kids on BMX bikes jockeyed for position with their sometimes-wobbly parents and fully kitted-out weekend warriors.

KevinKevin Livingston waits for the group ride to begin.

RideHold your line!

“Just to show you how committed I am to this,” said my friend David, “I’m missing ESPN Game Day — and it’s here in town.” Texas is playing Texas Tech today, so I guess that is a good barometer of club participation. Besides, the game isn’t until this evening. Cycling education AND football — now there’s how to spend a Saturday.