Bike Noob

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Archives for June 2011

Watch Out For Pedal Wear!

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Guest poster Jeff Hemmel says if you’re having trouble with your cleats — the trouble might not be with your cleats.

I’ve been having a little trouble clicking in and out of my pedals as of late. I thought the likely culprit was my cleats. Upon inspection, they were certainly quite worn, but what surprised me most was the condition of my pedals, a pair of Shimano road-style 540s. On both, the body cover plate — a replaceable piece of plastic (metal on higher-end models) that spans the width of the pedal — was completely worn away at the tips. Compounding matters was that where the tips were gone, my cleats had actually worn rather significantly into the aluminum, leaving a pronounced dip, especially on the outside of each pedal. The end result is that my foot was likely sitting quite canted in the pedals…and my pedals were permanently damaged.

The Shimano 540. (Click to embiggen.)

In hindsight, I spotted a clue in a recent photo. I had done one of the MS150 rides, and the event photographer had captured me at various times throughout the course. In several of the photos, I noticed a strange, inward angle to my foot. Now I know why.

I’ve seen plenty of coverage on when to replace your cleats, but very little on when to replace a pedal. If you ride Shimanos, look closely on the instructions. You’ll note that the cover in question is actually considered a “consumable” part, and that the cover should be replaced before “any part of the body cover becomes flush with the pedal.” Yikes — I was way past that stage. If I had kept a closer eye on things, I probably could have simply replaced a cheap (about $6) piece of plastic. Replacing them as they showed wear would have saved the more expensive pedal body from permanent damage.

A little more food for thought: In many ways, you do get what you pay for. When I first made the switch from a mountain bike and hybrid to a road bike, I reasoned that the cheaper products were good enough for me. Hence the 540s, which are Shimano’s entry-level road pedal. With time, however, I’ve come to appreciate the extra quality that can be found in some of the pricier equipment. The Shimano 105 pedals I’ve stepped up to certainly aren’t top of the line by any means. I found them new on eBay for only $55. The 105s, however, are far closer to the higher-end Ultegra pedals. The shape itself flares at the axle, giving the rider a wider, more solid platform underfoot. The 105s also feature a metal cover plate, secured with two small screws. It’s still considered consumable, but certainly it won’t wear at the rate of the 540’s plastic.

Shimano 105. (Click to make larger.)

 I doubt very many people have actually replaced the part in question. On this morning’s ride, I asked a friend if I could see his pedals, which are the same as my previous model. Unclipping one foot, he seemed surprised as he looked down to see the plastic cover almost completely gone…and a pronounced chunk worn out of the pedal’s aluminum body.

Bonking on a Hot Day

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John T. Cash

Bike Noob is pleased to present a guest post from John T. Cash. John T rides with the Noob occasionally, and he also comments here under the name “johnt.” He just took up biking last year. Over the weekend, he did an organized ride that he’d ridden in last year, and was looking forward to again. But this time, it didn’t turn out so well.

This year’s Atlas ride ( the first leg of the Texas 4000, which is a group of 50 University of Texas students who ride to Alaska to raise money for cancer), the 2nd I have participated in, started just like last year’s. But this year was a little more important to me as I had helped lead the initial training ride for the group back in September. I was riding the 54 mile route. I drove to the start at Cedar Park with my friend Hugo, who usually leads the  Jack and Adams bike shop weekly no drop ride. We hung out and made the usual small talk with those we knew and those we just met until the ride started. Hugo dropped me quickly as I am slow to warm up and usually struggle the first 10 miles until everything falls into place.

This ride though was different. Ten miles passed and the clouds burned off. By the first rest stop it was well over 90 degrees and I was drenched in sweat and still laboring. Lingering longer than I normally do at the rest stop I ate a lot of fruit and dropped a Nuun into my water bottle and drained it. Assured that the fruit and the Nuun would do the trick, I took off and waited for the lift that would renew my energy. At mile 20 and still struggling I had an epiphany. Although I had been riding regularly and had completed 59 miles at the Red Poppy ride six weeks before, I had ridden very little in the heat this year and I was in over my head.

Riding into the second rest stop again just drenched in sweat and feeling very depleted, I wolfed down an energy bar and grabbed several slices of watermelon and oranges and sat on the bridge to contemplate whether to SAG in right then and there. I must have looked pretty bad because a couple of Texas 4000 riders recognized me and asked if I was OK. “Yes, I’m fine,” I muttered — not too convincingly.

As I pondered whether to hang it up I realized I knew most of the SAG volunteers because of my relationship to Hugo. Ugh, how embarrassing. At age 53, the last thing I wanted to do is be another old man bonking in the heat, especially in front of folks I know. With my precious ego in jeopardy I chugged down another bottle of Nuun water, grabbed a couple of energy bars and decided to soldier on. As I slogged along with the sun beating down and the temperature well above 95 I made my plan. I had my heart rate monitor and tried to make sure it stayed around 120-125. I would drink water every two miles and nibble on my energy bars. While not terribly hilly, the route is not flat and I stayed in the lowest gear on any incline and coasted as much as I could. Each pedal stroke had a purpose, each shift a way to save energy. Each sip of water or bite of energy bar was the fuel to pedal up another long roller. A nice lady in her 40s rode up and tried to make small talk but I could only grunt or nod and she pedaled off probably thinking what an assh—. A sag driver driving the opposite way probably noticed how slow and wobbly I was yelled at me as he passed, “You OK?” I weakly waved and plowed on.

At mile 38 I started to really lose it and more than a little dizzy stopped and got off the bike. With only a few miles to the next rest stop I decided to pour the remainder of one of my water bottles over my head and soak my bandana. I dropped another Nuun in my other bottle and chugged the tepid mixture dry. “You OK?” sang the chorus as a peloton of 20 somethings zipped past. After a few more minutes, the dizziness passed and I wobbled to the last rest stop. Inhaling a bunch of watermelon and oranges, I lingered for at least 20 minutes and then took off a bit refreshed. A young couple fell in with me and I chatted with them. They were thinking about having a baby (amazing what people confide to strangers on a bike) and I started to perk up a bit as the terrain ran downhill. Once we hit a couple of long rollers I let them go and went back to struggling.

Somehow the miles went by and as luck would have it the last 4 miles were uphill in a headwind but I somehow made it to the finish at 1:30 p.m., 5 1/2 hours and a full hour over my time the year before. I saw Hugo right off the bat and he quickly pointed out the time, how bad I looked and how he had been worried about me. I brushed past, muttered an obscenity and downed a couple of cold water bottles and demolished a bbq plate with all the fixings.

In the shade my head quit pounding, the dizziness left and I realized that I had just completed my most successful and fulfilling ride. It took all of what little I know about the bike, my body and what I didn’t know about what I was made of to complete this ride. Whether it was some misguided attempt at protecting my ego or a stubbornness or tenacity I didn’t know I had, I don’t know. I do know now why I decided to start riding a bike at age 52.

Before you ask — John T. tells me he was well fueled:  “I had a pasta dinner, I had a good breakfast, and ate a big free bagel at the school before the start,” he said. But he’s been riding only 40-50 miles a week, and that at times of day when the heat isn’t so intense. “In hindsight, maybe not such a good idea,” he told me.

The Flatulent Cyclist

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Last year during the MS 150, my riding partner Bob pulled even with me after we had been separated for a few miles.

“I must have really pissed off some rider,” he said. “The guy passed me, then got right in front of me and farted in my face.”

“Oh, come on,” I said. “It couldn’t have been deliberate.”

Bob insisted it was. “He passed me, got in front of me, slowed down a little, then rose out of his saddle. I could hear the pfft.”

“Did you get a snootful?” I asked.

“Nah, we were going too fast.”

Whether deliberate or not, sometimes our systems react when we’re pedaling for awhile. My club’s jerseys even recognize that fact, with this little item down in the corner below the rear pockets:

Well, they might be natural emissions, but they’re embarrassing and offensive, all at the same time. It’s probably worth the rider’s effort to figure out what dietary elements are contributing to the problem. Take note of what you ate the day before the ride. Then repeat that before your next ride, but cut out the likely culprit. Some folks say peanut butter or anything containing peanuts is a major contributor. Others, who pay attention to nutrition as part of a weight loss plan, find that flatulence is a natural result of eating certain green vegetables.

In any case, I think farts while riding are a fact of life (Maybe I’m just rationalizing my own propensity to cut loose every so often). So then the question becomes one of etiquette. How do you handle farting while riding in a group?

I’ve noticed it’s difficult to let one go if you remain seated. So there’s that slight telltale rise off the saddle, then a sudden drop back onto it. A dead giveaway. What you might do instead is stay out of the saddle for a few pedal strokes, to give the impression that you’re just stretching and taking pressure off your bum. With any luck, you’ll find yourself in my friend Bob’s situation, and be going so fast that it’ll dissipate on the breeze.

I suppose you could give fair warning to your riding partners, much like “Car up!” or “Car back!” But what would it be? “Fart up!!!???” Imagine hearing that in the middle of a 20-person group ride.

Maybe there’s a signal for it, like when you wiggle your elbow to indicate that you plan to end your pull? But what would it be? Point at your butt? Or point at the guy next to you and make a face?

Some say it should be illegal, especially in a racing situation. After all, the rider could get an unfair propulsion advantage over the competition.

I guess you do want to pay some attention to your diet, though. You want to make sure any toot you let off is a dry one. Don’t put yourself in the position of pro rider Tom Boonen:

I can’t believe I just spent part of my evening writing this stuff.

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