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Archives for September 2012

Stoplights — Bike Ride Spoilers

09.23.2012 by Ray Niekamp // 3 Comments

The main club ride today was scheduled to make a run into the city. It would skirt downtown and go north on some well-traveled bike routes.

I’ve done most of this route in the past, but it’s not one of my favorites. The turnaround point is about 25 miles out, and it’s all urban and suburban riding — nothing in the country. I had suggested a country ride to Creedmoor, but at the Starbucks gathering point, some of the other Bs thought tagging along with the A ride would be fun. So we set off in an impressive looking group of 28 riders.

That group strung out and some of us were losing contact with the front pack by about nine miles into the ride. We had had some online discussion about one of the streets, which has been closed on and off over the last few weeks. Some said we needed an alternate route to get around the construction. The club president said he drove that street the afternoon before, and it was open. Unfortunately, he posted that info at 7:15 in the morning, and I didn’t see it.

We got to an intersection with Lamar Blvd., a major north-south artery in town, and watched with downcast faces as the peloton shot across. The red light held up about six of us. It turned out to be a long light. By the time we got rolling again, any trace of the main group was long gone. We found our way up to Barton Springs Blvd., which would take us to the pedestrian bridge over the Colorado River.

At Barton Springs, another red light. Two of us got across the street before the light turned red, but the others got stuck at the intersection. We waited. Then, another red light on our street separated us again. The three of us in front waited. Finally, we got up to the pedestrian bridge. It’s a lower level of the freeway bridge that crosses the river, and is used by both pedestrians and cyclists. On this gorgeous Sunday morning, it was packed. I unclipped from my right pedal so I could put my foot down in an instant if needed, and pushed on only my left pedal to weave through the crowd.

Cross the bridge. Turn left, power up a hill past an uninterrupted row of cars, many of which could block us with opening doors. We kept a careful lookout, but got to the next light with no trouble. Another long stoplight, then we could turn onto a road with a decent shoulder and make some time. Any hope of catching the main group had long since disappeared, and we continued on as a fractured group of six.

But at another turn onto Shoal Creek Blvd., who should we see but New York John. He was waiting for us, because his son-in-law was one of our group.

“What the f***!” he yelled. “I’m waitin’ for my son-in-law, and the whole f****n’ B ride shows up! I t’ought youse was goin’ to Creedmoor! Ten f****n’ minutes I’m waitin’ here! Why the f*** are youse guys so f****n’ slow? Aaagh, now I been dropped! Let’s get f****n’ movin’!”

I love New York John.

He set a quick pace up Shoal Creek, even though there was no way we would catch the As. He might be 65, but he’s slightly built, and rolls his carbon fiber Specialized Roubaix with the best of them. Shoal Creek is a road through residential neighborhoods, and sure enough, stoplights pepper the route. Sure enough, some of us got caught at them.

Stoplights can be your friend. John and the others were stuck at one at Anderson Lane, and we three laggards caught up. About a mile later, we saw a peloton heading toward us. It was the A group.

We did a U-turn, heedless of traffic in the area, and latched onto them. Luckily, they pulled into a convenience store a minute later, and we got to take a much-needed rest.

It was nice to feel the pull of the peloton on the way out. I was in the middle of the pack, chatting with a couple of A riders and our club president. But we had some guests with us today, and they picked up the pace. The group fractured again. This time, the club president stayed back with us. He got caught by another stoplight, too.

By the time we reached Mount Bonnell, it was just Buddy, Jan and me. “We don’t have to climb Bonnell,” I said. “We can stay on this street, which is plenty hilly, and meet them a little ways on.”

The club president caught us a mile down the road. “We waited for you at the top,” he said. “It was literally only 50 yards to the top — you could have come with us and bombed down the nice downhill.” We turned into a gas station for a quick break — and the rest of the ride flew by us.

After crossing the pedestrian bridge over the river again, we got onto the frontage road of the Mopac Expressway. Buddy was starting to slow, bothered by cramps in his quads. I stayed back with him, but that noble gesture was driven by self-interest. By now, I was tired, too.

One last stoplight on Escarpment Blvd. I made it through — Buddy didn’t. He pulled into Starbucks a few minutes after I did. We agreed that we’d done well this day — 3500 feet of climbing over about 50 miles. Both of us were pleased with the results, but we agreed that without those pesky stoplights, we would have done a lot better.

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Categories // Rides Tags // hills, red light, tired

Some Bike-Related Reading

09.20.2012 by Ray Niekamp // 2 Comments

Author Jonathan Clements has penned a novel about biking. Well, it’s about money management. Uh…it’s really about a guy’s midlife crisis, with a healthy dose of money management and biking thrown in.

The book is “48 and Counting: A Story of Money, Love and Bicycling.” Clements is a former writer for the Wall Street Journal, who has since moved on, but he’s still writing — and riding. He recounts the story of Max Whitfield, a 48-year-old money manager, who discovers the joy of bike riding. As Max gets more involved in his new pastime, he springs for an expensive road bike, decks himself out in fancy lycra kit, and joins a local club ride, where he is promptly spit out the back. But he keeps coming back, and keeps getting faster.

However, while Max is wrapped up in cycling, he’s neglecting his business. His ambitious assistant plots to grab it. He’s also neglecting his marriage, and a woman he meets by chance starts looking mighty fine. When his life implodes, Max decides to set a new goal for himself. He enters a 40-mile road race.

Although Clements has been a financial journalist, with four earlier books about money, this is his first novel. He had always thought he’d write a novel once he retired, but when his father died after being hit by a car while cycling, Clements decided he’d better write the novel now — because he might not make it to retirement.

His love of cycling is evident throughout the book. Clements rides his road bike in New York City, often near his home on Roosevelt Island. “Down the south end of the island, I have what I consider my personal criterium course,” he said in an email to me. “It’s 0.9 mile around, with a few stop signs you can safely ignore. During the week, I’ll bang out a quick 13 or 14 miles there, going round and round like a crazed rat on a treadmill, and judge the ride by which side of 20 mph I average.”

The weekends find him in Central Park, where cars aren’t allowed on the main six-mile circuit on Saturdays and Sundays. “Again, averaging at least 20 mph is my goal, but that’s much easier in the park because the roads are smoother, there are fewer tight turns and – at the weekend — my aging body has a little longer to wake up before I hit the road,” he told me.

Making the switch from financial columnist to novelist was tougher than Clements thought. “I’ve spent my entire writing career telling people, in simple, plain English, what to do with their money,” he said. “But with ’48 and Counting,’ I wasn’t doling out advice, but telling a story. Making the switch proved surprisingly difficult.”

He pulled it off, though. It’s an entertaining story, one that can be read in one evening, and some of the cycling scenes — the clipless fall, the arrogant hammerheads on the club ride — will be familiar to many. “48 and Counting” is available as a $9.99 paperback through Amazon and as a $3.99 Kindle and Nook e-book. With the onset of autumn, and less genial cycling weather for many of us, some time with the book could be a satisfying substitute for time in the saddle.

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Categories // Books Tags // book review

That Gunk In Your Water Bottle

09.18.2012 by Ray Niekamp // 8 Comments

Ever been faced with a dirty water bottle? It happened to guest poster Don Blount recently.

I have about eight or nine water bottles. I did not buy them all. Some came with bike-related purchases, and a few were gifts. Most of them are insulated bottles. I like those because they keep beverages colder longer in the hot weather we get in Northern California – I hate drinking water as warm as bathwater. I started with the Polar insulated bottles but later switched to the Camelbak Podium Chill bottle because they are easier to drink from. Just squeeze and the liquid squirts out. The Polar bottles I use in the cooler weather as they are can also accommodate warm beverages.

I have heard or read about neglected bottles turning into science experiments. Fortunately, I had not experienced this until I recently pulled out a bottle that had somehow been put away without being cleaned – blech!

My initial reaction was to pitch it. I didn’t see how this bottle would be useable again.

Instead I poured in some bleach, shook the bottle and let it sit overnight.

And when I looked in it the next day, I discovered that the bleach had done its job.

The dishwasher will be the bottle’s next stop but I am still undecided if I will keep it, knowing what was once inside.

What do you think?

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Categories // Accessories Tags // water bottles

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