A Feeling Like No Other

It’s been a long and frustrating hiatus from biking. My bronchitis just wouldn’t go away. The fact that I approached like a typical guy didn’t help any — a typical guy would do nothing but take some throat lozenges and hope for the best. That’s what I did. And although my wife was after me to see the doctor, the Mayo Clinic’s website says you don’t need to see a doc until you’ve had the bronchitis for three weeks. If it hasn’t cleared itself up by then, maybe an intervention is called for.

I took solace in the fact that I coughed a little less each day. Aside from the coughing, I felt normal. But the lack of cycling exercise contributed to an overall sluggish feeling that I couldn’t wait to shed. Finally, I could do it.

Friday dawned with heavy local rain. I figured my plans for a ride later that afternoon would have to be put on hold yet again. I gave a presentation at the university on our new system for creating online classes, then kept an appointment with a new faculty member whom I met through a mutual friend. By the time we took our leave of each other, the rain had long since stopped, and things were almost dried out already.

At home, I walked around outside a bit, and noted with satisfaction that the sun was breaking through the remaining cloud cover, and starting to warm things up. It took just a few minutes to change into my biking clothes, pump up the tires, and venture onto the neighborhood streets.

For my first ride back after a four-week layoff, I decided to head over to the Veloway and do a few laps. The road to the Veloway, which also leads to the Lady Bird Johnson Wildflower Center, was solidly lined with cars for its entire length — about a half mile — on both sides. It’s spring, and this year, Texas is having the finest explosion of wildflowers I’ve seen since arriving here 15 years ago.

Bluebonnets and Indian Paintbrush set off a MAMIL along a back stretch of the Veloway.
Bluebonnets and Indian Paintbrush set off a MAMIL along a back stretch of the Veloway.

I did three laps around the Veloway, then headed home. Modest mileage — 15.2 miles — for a ride of almost exactly one hour. I rode steadily, only pushing it in a few spots, and not for very long there, so my Strava feed showed no trophies for any of my segments — as if I cared. The layoff hasn’t adversely affected my riding. That is, I never felt as though I was working hard. Well, I was pretty huffed by the time I got to the top of the HEB hill less than a mile from home. But I can be pretty huffed on that thing even when I’m in condition. That pesky little four-tenths of a mile, gentle but steady climb does test the rider.

So what? I’m back. It was great to be in the saddle again, great to be out on the familiar roads. Riding a bike is a feeling like no other, and I’ve missed it.

Looks like we’ll have rain for the rest of weekend. I might miss it some more.

Thankful for Cycling

“Oh, I need this,” cooed Pat, as we headed out from home on a Sunday morning ride.

“This” was a bike ride. We’d just gotten home late last night from four days on the road for Thanksgiving. It was great. We stayed with our son and daughter-in-law and our brand new grandson — our first grandchild. So, we had lots of time for family bonding, lots of time sitting around watching their 70-inch TV screen (some action scenes made Pat nauseous), and lots of time eating more than we should have. It was great.

I got out for a couple of walks. The first day we were there, I set out to circle a large soccer-baseball complex near their house, and found that there was no quick way to do it. I wound up walking about four miles, and in the unseasonably mild Minnesota weather, I was soaked through with sweat when I got home.

Saturday’s weather was more seasonal. I walked a little over a mile to see a bald eagle nest near their house, and was treated to the sight of two eagles — one that flew about 50 yards from tree to tree while I looked on. I was a lot more bundled up for this walk, with temperatures in the low to mid 20s (-3C) and a biting wind. But it was better than the previous day, when we went to the movies. While we walked from the parking lot to the theater, the 25 mph wind cut through our jackets, and without hats or ear protection, we were really cold.

Now, I know hearty northerners ride in these conditions. On my walk to the eagles’ nest, a cyclists passed me, bundled up in a heavy parka, thermal cycling tights, thick gloves, and a skull cap. Tough guy, I thought. But we’ve lived in Austin for 12 years now, and our blood must have thinned out. My personal cycling cutoff is at 40 degrees (4C), and I’m mighty chilly even at that temperature.

So our ride this morning was a pleasure. Even with a brisk south wind, we pedaled easily over to the Veloway and did some laps. Good crowd out there today. Pat has been dealing with some work-related challenges, and she was glad to get on the bike, because ideas and solutions seem to come to her much more readily while cycling than while poring over a computer screen in the home office. As they did today. When I peeled away from her a couple of blocks from the house to continue my ride, she was already eager to get back to try out some things that came to her on the ride.

I tackled some local hills, and found that the pounds I tacked on over the holiday made themselves felt. Okay, I slipped from my careful eating campaign, and I’ll have to renew my efforts in that regard. But to ride in a short-sleeved jersey and shorts on a 65-70 degree (20C) day in November is something I’m thankful for at this time of year.

Pulling the Train

Out on my Saturday morning neighborhood ride, I headed over to the Veloway to add some extra miles before heading home. The Hill Country Inline Skating Club was out in force, with a big event for them. There were more inline skaters than cyclists on the Veloway this day.

I started my first lap, and saw a lone skater ahead of me. He appeared to be going at about my speed, so I decided to try to catch him. A small rise slowed him down, and I went past, but soon heard the telltale “swish, swish, swish” of his skate’s wheels right behind me. I looked over my shoulder, and his face was about three feet from mine! Talk about drafting!

I smiled at him, he smiled back, and I set down to business. I had pulled skaters before, and it’s lots of fun. Amazing how fast they can go. We finished the first lap, and he stuck with me for another.

“Hope you don’t mind if I draft,” he said.

“No, but are you in an organized event? Is it allowed?” I answered.

“Just friendly competition,” he said. “Drafting is allowed.”

“Let’s go then,” I said.

Three inline skaters were in a paceline ahead of us, their legs in sync with each other. I got us behind them, then pulled out to go past. They all laughed, and pointed at their buddy behind me. But the next thing you know, the “swish, swish, swish” was louder, more intense. I glanced back, and they had all fallen in behind. Now I had four skaters in tow, and I felt some pressure, because these guys were fast.

They looked like elite racing cyclists — all muscle and sinew, wearing the same kind of lycra kit and helmets we do. The middle guy of the three was rather stocky, compared to the others, but every bit as fast.

I pushed hard into a brisk north wind, around a couple of hairpin turns, and signaled that I was moving left, around a couple pedaling leisurely on their hybrid bikes. Then came the short, steep hill that is the landmark for the back half of the Veloway. I downshifted, and turned into the hill, as I saw the leader of the skaters pull even with me on my left.

Damn! I missed a shift, and three of them went by me. The original drafter had apparently fallen off the back. At the top of the hill, I pedaled hard, determined to get back in front and resume the draft. They had a different idea. As I drew even in the left lane, instead of glomming onto my wheel for a free ride, they started racing me!

Now we were on the back straightaway, with a nice tailwind. I couldn’t relax. The wind helped them as much — maybe more — as it helped me. I got ahead at a sweeping right turn, and they lined up behind me again. Up a rise, around a bend to the right, then left, then right — and then into a testy uphill segment. I downshifted, and the three went by me again — this time, to stay. I watched as they drew further ahead, not able to make up any lost ground on them.

They made the last turn toward the start-finish line. I peeled off across the parking lot, since my two laps were done. I could hear the announcer on his bullhorn call their finishing times — 1:39-something. Yipes! That meant they probably did a 10-lap race — 33 miles — and still had enough oomph at the end to clock 22 mph speeds on the flats.

It reminded me of the time a skater passed me on the Veloway about a year ago, and I pushed hard just to stay with him — I couldn’t pass him, no matter how hard I tried. At the end of the lap, he congratulated me for keeping up. Huh? It turned out he was some kind of inline champion.

It’s a lot of fun to be drafted by these guys — but less fun to be passed by them.