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Rainy day ride

03.30.2008 by Ray Niekamp // 1 Comment

Well, the ride with my bike club didn’t happen today. It rained overnight, and was misty this morning, but the forecast said it would clear, then rain again this afternoon. I decided to chance it, so rode over to Starbucks to see who would show up.

About 15, in fact. I was still a bit leery about riding in such wet conditions, but almost everyone else seemed fine with it. A couple seemed hesitant about going on a planned 45-mile jaunt and being far from home if the skies opened up.

The ride leader called us to get ready, when my cell phone rang. It was my wife, Pat. She’s training for the Hill Country Ride for AIDS again this year, and was going out with a group of riders she regularly trains with. But today, she was the only one to show, and didn’t know if she should ride on her own in the wet, or if she should just go home. I told her I would join her, and we would decide what to do.

I made my apologies to the ride leader, and headed out. She was just a mile or so from where we were going to start, so we met up quickly. We decided to do Mopac, and assess conditions as we went along.

Traffic on Sunday mornings is usually light along this stretch, and today it was even lighter. It was warmer today than it had been lately, about 70. But the mist made the going unpleasant. I pulled off at a cutout at the top of a hill, and waited for her to catch up to me. We decided to keep going. A convenient arterial street about two miles out would get us back home if conditions got worse. When we reached that street, we were fumbling with sunglasses we could no longer see out of, but agreed that we could head out to 1826, turn around, and when we got back to this spot on the return leg, assess again.

rainyride.jpg

It’s hard to tell from the photo, but it was misting heavily at this point.

I reached 1826 well ahead of Pat, who struggles on hills. A group of club riders passed me and turned north on 1826. It’s a road I don’t ride in nice weather, let alone crummy days like this one. It’s narrow, curvy, and hilly with no shoulder, and cars travel it too fast. I suppose there’s safety in numbers. At least we weren’t the only idiots out today.

The rain picked up on the return leg. Still light, but now more of a nuisance. When we got back to the arterial street, we decided to head home. The road crud kicked up by my rear tire had spattered the back of my white jersey (what was I thinking?), and we both needed a warm shower.

At around 11 a.m., I drove past Starbucks on my way to the grocery store, and there were the club members back from their ride. It appeared they had cut it short, too.

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Easter ride

03.23.2008 by Ray Niekamp // 2 Comments

I had to get out on the bike this morning, because it was a gorgeous day in Austin.  Bright and sunny, but breezy, and temps in the low 60s.

My mileage has been off lately, so I figured this would be a good day to go a little farther than usual.  I opted for Mopac, and figured I’d take two circuits of the route.

It was terrific.  At first.  With a north wind at my back, I hit 30 mph on a slight downhill stretch.  But when the road turned to the west and became slightly uphill, I started to struggle.  Still, I made decent progress.  I always look forward to the turnaround to head east, because there are some nice downhill stretches there where you can really let it all out.  Not today.  The wind had shifted a bit to the northeast, and was hitting me in the face.  I also had to pay more attention than usual to broken glass along this part of the route.  Luckily, the tires came through intact.

When the route turned back north, the wind really hit me.  This is the toughest part of the route for me, because it has more uphills.  I can usually take it easy on the downhill parts, but today the downhills were like uphills because of the wind.  Pushing the bike downhill at 11 mph into the teeth of a gale is not fun.

The stoplight at the top of the last hill gave me a minute to catch my breath and down some sports drink.  I considered heading home, but remembered my quest for more mileage, so I went around again.  If anything, the wind had picked up by now.  By the time I got to the northbound leg, I was struggling.  And to add insult to injury, two small groups of riders sailed by me, pedaling at what appeared to be an easy cadence.  They must have been going 20 mph.  I was at 13, and slowing.  I stopped at the top of a hill to drain the rest of my drink, and just rest awhile.  I was at the 17-mile mark, and told myself that if I were in an organized ride, I would have pulled off at a rest stop by this point anyway.

My cell phone rang.  It was my wife, reminding me that we had a tee time at noon.  She was a little perturbed when I told her I was still 20 minutes away from home, and it was already 11:10 (She had done the double Mopac loop yesterday, when the wind was lighter, and today was thinking not about bikes, but about golf).  I hustled home, and we got to the course late, but there weren’t a lot of golfers out today, so we got on the course with no trouble.

My totals: 21.2 miles, time 1:23:47, avg. speed 15.2 mph.  Conclusion: As much as I like to think I’m improving, I’m still a biking newbie.

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Metric century

03.16.2008 by Ray Niekamp // 14 Comments

A metric century is a 100 kilometer (62 mile) bicycle ride. It’s a common goal for cyclists to complete a metric, because it’s a good barometer of where you are in terms of endurance, fitness, and speed.

After I completed a 50-miler, a metric century was a logical next step. Conveniently, one was coming up in five weeks — the “Wurstride,” on the first Saturday in November, 2007. It’s conducted in conjunction with the annual Wurstfest in New Braunfels, Texas (wurst is the German word for sausage, and New Braunfels loves to celebrate its German heritage). The ride starts in Austin, and follows little-used country roads on a roundabout way to New Braunfels, which is only a 40-mile drive by Interstate highway.

Because I had trained for the 50-miler, I felt I was in good shape for 100K. I tried to ride often, and did a 30-miler one Saturday. But an attempt at a 40-miler the weekend before the race was cut off at 17 miles, after my second flat of the day. Now I was concerned that I might not have enough stamina to finish a 62-mile ride.

The ride started in the parking lot of a local utility in Austin. I had a new rear tire and tube, after the flats the week before, but something seemed out of whack. The tube was actually bulging out from the tire! I took it to the SAG tent run by a local bike shop, and a mechanic I’d dealt with before checked the trueness of the wheel, deflated the tube, remounted the tire, pumped it up, and I was ready to go.

But as soon as the ride began, I sensed a problem. The rear tire was bumping on every revolution. I tried to check on it as I rode along, which is a dicey thing to do when surrounded by other bikers. I figured out that the tube was bulging once again, just as it went bang!

Just a mile into a 62-mile ride, and I’m trying to fix a flat along the road. I could see that I was in for a long, lonely day trying to catch the pack, and started wondering if it was in the cards for me to finish. Then one of the SAG wagons came along, driven by the same bike mech who had tended to the tire earlier. He immediately recognized the problem. “I put 100 pounds in your tire,” he said, “but with this wheel, it shouldn’t take more than 70.” He found a new tube, put in 70 pounds, and I was on my way — last in a field of about one thousand riders.

I pulled into the first rest stop, about 10 miles from the start, took only about five minutes to get a sports drink, then set off again. That put me ahead of a couple dozen riders who lingered at the rest stop. Now we were out in the country, southeast of Austin, and I had a lot of easy downhill stretches to make up lost time. I didn’t push it, but a steady pedaling pace sent me past many other cyclists.

The weather was warming up, and at the second rest stop, I pulled off my windbreaker, rolled it up, and stuffed it into the back pocket of my cycling jersey. I planned not to take more than 10 minutes at rest stops, and was soon in the saddle again.

The county roads in Hays and Caldwell counties were chip seal, and rough in some spots. We rode past cotton fields that had just recently been harvested, and clumps of cotton lined the road. By the time I reached the third rest stop, at the halfway mark in Martindale, I knew I would finish the ride.

My cell phone rang as the route headed east of San Marcos. It was my son, calling from Minnesota to wish my wife a happy birthday — he’d hit my number by mistake. When I told him where I was and what I was doing, he was astounded, and got off the phone so I could concentrate on dodging the traffic.

Now, I was feeling the distance. There were hills along the route, nothing long or steep, but enough to make me work hard. I was still riding the steel Raleigh at the time, and it took some strong legs to handle the inclines. A cluster of four riders passed me going up a small rise. On the downhill side, I sailed past them. But at the next upslope, they went by me again. This passing back and forth kept up until the fifth rest stop.

Getting to that stop was a trial. It was along Interstate 35, at the point where the route crossed the highway and continued west and south to New Braunfels. But one of the longer hills of the day led to the rest stop, and by the time I got to the top, I felt like all the starch had been taken out of me. I tried to stick to my 10-minute rule, but in this case, I think I took a few more.

The rest of the trip wasn’t too bad. The ride organizers put the rest stops closer together in the last half of the ride — only about seven miles apart. I had put a new saddle on the bike after the Rip Roarin’ Ride, but hadn’t adjusted to it yet, and my butt complained. Much of this part of the ride found me coasting, with my weight on my feet, so I could just lift off the saddle. That helped.

The ride ended in a large city park in New Braunfels. Riders were treated to free beer and sausages. I was surprised at how good I felt. After a few minutes of walking around, my bottom didn’t bother me at all. Our bikes were loaded onto trucks, and we boarded buses for the return trip to Austin.

I didn’t set the world on fire, finishing 5 hours 26 minutes after starting. But deducting 10 minutes for each of the seven rest stops gave me 4 hours 16 minutes in the saddle, for an average speed of 14.59 miles per hour. I was satisfied with that. I knew it would only get better from here.

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