Bike Noob

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The Climb

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Guest poster Jeff Hemmel tracks his relationship with a hill, from hate — to love-hate — to love.

I live in Florida. That means I ride lots and lots of flat roads, and never leave the big ring. The biggest hills I get are a pair of bridges over the Intracoastal Waterway, decent in many respects but barely a speed bump for any serious climber.

Every summer, however, I get to escape to the Adirondacks in New York State (the perks of a work-from-home journalist), and there, awaiting me like my own mythical Ventoux, is The Climb.

Okay, it’s really just a big hill, less than 2.5 miles in total. But to me it’s become somewhat of a yardstick to measure my cycling fitness. The hill rises to only about a 5 percent grade by mile 1, but throws a 9 percent grade at you during mile 2. A lot of people hate that climb, but in my own perverse way, I’ve grown to love it.

A number of years ago, following a problematic ACL reconstruction, I tackled the hill as a challenge on a mountain bike. Truth be told, I wasn’t even sure I could make it the first time. When I first climbed it on my road bike, I seriously questioned whether I could do it on my compact double without the safety net of a third ring. (Believe me, I got down to the smallest cog in my cassette!) Now, I return to that hill at the end of every ride, no matter how many miles I’ve put in. The climb has changed from “can I get up it” to “how many miles can I ride and still get up it” to now just a “time to get up it” conclusion to my ride. (I’ve even found another one to throw in mid-route, but that’s another story…)

Yes, there is one other way to return home that’s far less steep. But to me, tackling the hill at the end of my rides is the only way to go.

By now, I’ve gotten to know it intimately. I know where the house is that sometimes has sweet corn and vegetables for sale, all on the honor system. I know the dip that at one time signified I was about to be eaten by the most vicious dog I’ve ever met, but now just signifies I’m about to drop into the small ring as the toughest section lies ahead. And I know the secluded spot where I once felt like someone was watching me, only to discover a deer standing inches away as I rode past.

And starting this year, I also know just how long it takes me to get to the top. Like some kind of glutton for punishment, I started timing myself.

Summer’s winding down and I’m returning home, back to the flat, congested roads I’ve ridden time and time again. Yesterday I clocked my fastest ascent of the summer. Doing so, however, made me realize it’s not how fast I get up the hill that’s important, it’s the climb itself — and all its idiosyncrasies and personal meanings — that I most enjoy.

I’m going to miss it.

Hemmel’s Ride (In Real Life)

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Today’s ride was nothing to brag about in terms of my performance, but it was one that I will remember for a long time because of the company.

Jeff Hemmel

Guest poster Jeff Hemmel was in Austin this weekend, and joined me for 33 miles in the Texas Hill Country.  Jeff posts here under the label, “Hemmel’s Ride.” Product reviews are his forte. He’s evaluated saddles, water bottles, and chamois cream, among other things. He also wrote about a ride he took with Bob Roll last year, and the unease he experienced when riding in an all-white kit.

In his non-blogging life, Jeff is a magazine writer, and was in town to cover “Aquapalooza” for Boating magazine. But while here, he made arrangements to rent a bike from Mellow Johnny’s, and I met him there Sunday morning.

We headed out for my favorite riding area — Dripping Springs. I thought that a Florida guy like Jeff would enjoy some hill riding. What I forgot was that Jeff’s family has a summer place in the Adirondacks, so he probably rides hills — big ones — a lot more than I do. On the route’s most challenging hill, Jeff kept it in the big ring and rolled easily up the grade.

Jeff smiles before pulling away.

Meanwhile, the summer sun was taking its toll on me. We started the ride at 11 a.m. — much later than I like to get going during the hot summer months — and I was glad to take the occasional break, like stopping to photograph Jeff with some Texas longhorn cattle.

The obligatory longhorn shot.

He didn’t push me too hard, though. His unfamiliarity with the roads kept him from leaving me too far back. After two-and-a-half hours in the saddle, we were glad to head back to Austin with the air conditioning at full blast, and put down massive quantities of Mountain Dew and glasses of water at a local deli.

Then back to Mellow Johnny’s (if you don’t already know it, it’s the bike store partly owned by Lance Armstrong) to buy some souvenirs for family members back home, catch a few minutes of the Tour de France on TV (Ooh! Bad day for Lance) and pose for pictures.

It’s funny how easily online friendships convert to face-to-face friendships. From our first greeting, I had the sense that we were simply continuing a conversation that started through email over a year ago. We talked about our writing endeavors — Jeff writes his own blog, “Ride Liquid,” on personal watercraft — and swapped ideas for posts. Bike Noob readers can expect some good stuff from him in the future. And as for me, I’m glad to have in Jeff a contributor who adds to the value we offer here.

The Bontrager Inform Saddle — Revisited

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Guest poster Jeff Hemmel updates his review of the Bontrager Inform saddle — and likes it.

Regular readers may recall that last year I posted a review of the Bontrager InForm RL saddle, a relatively new design that had been getting a lot of attention due not only to Bontrager’s “size-to-fit” concept, but also designer’s choice to forego a cutout in favor of what they considered proper weight distribution to combat numbness.

Though I was never a gushing fan of the saddle, I was pretty happy with it overall…at least for several months. Then, for reasons that eluded me, I started to get that dreaded numbness. No, it never lasted after I got off the bike thankfully, but it got to be a real pain — literally and figuratively — during nearly every ride. By summer, I was finding it really annoying, and wondering if the seat’s foam had somehow broken down.

I asked Trek about it and they asked the obvious questions: had I changed my position, etc. Each time I analyzed the situation I couldn’t think of a single thing I had changed. Not my position, not my brand of shorts, nothing. I started to just think the saddle wasn’t that hot after all, and began researching alternatives.

A funny thing, however, happened over the winter. Here in Florida, it was one of the coldest in history, and as a result I did a lot of riding bundled up in far more clothing than I normally would. And somewhere in the midst of those cold, windy rides, I began to notice something. The numbness was subsiding. Ultimately, it went away for the most part. And that relative comfort has continued into the spring.

Like an on-again, off-again relationship, my saddle and I are once again an item.

Why the change of heart? At first I had no idea. But after analyzing things for a while, I think I found the answer. And I think part of it is the result of all that cold-weather riding in tights.

No, it wasn’t more padding, or a different chamois placement, or anything like that. I continue to wear my regular shorts, pulling on chamois-less Pearl Izumi tights over them. Those tights, however, are made of a more slippery material than my shorts. As a result, I found myself sliding around a little more in my seat. And what I discovered was that I was ultimately settling into a position a little further back of where I had been riding as of late — a position that spread more of my weight on my sit bones at a wider portion of the seat.

Why, or how, had I moved forward? I have no idea. But without any big conscious effort, I was now moving back a fraction more…and finding that riding could once again be a pleasurable experience.

Yes, I occasionally force myself to scoot my butt back just a little on the seat, but for the most part my body has now just adapted to this new position.

Long story short? I once again think the InForm saddle is worth my money, and I’m in no rush to replace it. I also have a fresh appreciation for that advice you so often hear about saddles — they need to support your weight on your sit bones, those two bony parts you feel when you sit on a flat, hard surface, and not on the perineum, that area of soft tissues between your legs that house all those nerves and arteries that you need for other, more important things.

I still think people should try different saddles to see which fit them best, and yes, I think a professional bike fitting is a great idea for any serious cyclist. But if you’re just not happy with your saddle, you might want to move around on it a little bit before you go shopping for a new one.

In other words, you might want to put a little work into your current relationship…before it leads to a pricey divorce.

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