The Measure Of A Ride

Bike Noob, August 2012

On the final Saturday of July, on a day that reversed this summer’s trend toward warm and sunny and threw a curveball of grey skies and the ever-present threat of rain, I competed in my second-ever bicycle race. Longtime readers may remember I did my first-ever bicycle race at this same event one year ago. The fact that I ended up surprisingly vying for that win, while taking my age group title, guaranteed two things. One, that I’d come back for more this year, and two, that I’d probably take things a little more seriously this time around.

No, I didn’t go crazy with some dedicated race program. But I did become a little more serious in my preparation in the weeks leading up to the event. Thanks to input from a racer friend, once casual rides now included sprint intervals. Moments of quad-burning exhaustion were followed by the newfound knowledge that lactic-acid-combating enzymes would now be going to work full bore to ease subsequent efforts. And my climb up the Category 4 hill that leads back to my family’s spot on an Adirondack lake became an obsession not with the scenery, but instead with being a Strava “King of the Mountain.”

The work paid off. I ended up repeating as age-group champion in that race, as well as losing a somewhat heartbreaking sprint for the overall by a mere eight-tenths of a second. I also realized the sprint training and Strava KOM attempts had made me a much stronger overall rider. Average speeds crept up, hills went by quicker, and I just felt stronger.

The catch? Transitioning from that competitive mindset proved a little more difficult than I imagined…

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Rollin’ With The Bobke

The Bike Noob, July 2009

So anyway, the other day I was out for a ride with Bob Roll when…

Sorry. I’ll pause while you get out the broom. After all, that’s a pretty big name I just dropped. But come on, how often do you get a chance to say something like that? This is Bob Roll I’m talking about, legendary American cycling great, a guy I’ve watched on the Tour-DAY-France coverage for years.

The Bobke has played a key role in cycling history. He’s connected, an actual cycling celebrity, a charismatic, balding guy in tights.

And yeah, I was riding with him.

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A (First) Day At The Races

Bike Noob, August 2011

So there I was, sandwiched between a breakaway pack of 12 riders, pedaling nearly as fast as I thought humanly possible, looking at the last 90-degree corner of what had been 30 of the fastest, most hardcore miles I had ever ridden. All around me faces were dead serious, jerseys were filled with sponsor logos…legs were shaved. And then there was me, a noob, riding my very first race, jersey a plain and unassuming blue…and no real game plan what to do next.

What the hell was I thinking?

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Why Bike Computers Suck

The Bike Noob, June 2009

I love my bike computer. It keeps me informed, letting me know how fast, how far, and how long I’m riding. It even gives me the time and temp, although to be honest the latter function is far from accurate.

But I have also come to realize one undisputable fact — bike computers suck.

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Review: Retül 3-D Bike Fitting System

The Bike Noob, July 2009

Bike fitting is part art, part science. Traditional fitting involves static measurements and some basic tools, like a plumb bob and ruler. My local shop sized me for my bike; later, another shop graciously fine-tuned things like cleat and seat position. Still, I never felt completely dialed in. Some of my issues may have been due to past injuries, including an ACL reconstruction and herniated disc. Others, however, were just my obsessive-compulsive wonderings, like why I never felt comfortable riding in the drops, or why my left leg often brushed the top tube.

Eventually I went looking for an advanced bike fit. After all, even the priciest bike is no good if the owner doesn’t feel comfortable riding it.

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Fitting In

The Bike Noob, September 2009

Lately I’ve been feeling a lot like that little dude Hermey, from Rudolph The Red-Nosed Reindeer. You know, the elf who wants to be a dentist, and wonders why he just “doesn’t fit in.”

That’s become me on the bike.

Once upon a time, I fit in pretty well with my good friends who were casual cyclists. We rode together occasionally, enjoying our time on our bikes. Pretty soon, however, it was clear that I was getting more serious about the relationship, while they were content playing the field. To put it in Hermey-speak, I had designs on being a dentist…while they were happy just toiling away at the North Pole.

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Bike-Chasing Dogs…And Dog-Chasing Bikes

The Bike Noob, July 2009

Let me say first, I love dogs. Truth be told I’m not so big on cats, but dogs are my kind of pet. Just not when they’re chasing me on my bike.

Most of the time, that’s not an issue. Leash laws and traffic combine to make things pretty quiet animal-wise on my typical ride. Every summer, however, I get the chance to escape to the Adirondack Mountains of Upstate NY. And while I absolutely love the climbs, the scenery, and the lack of traffic, I don’t like the increase in furry friends I encounter during the course of my ride.

About two weeks ago, I was just beginning the steep, lengthy climb back home when a particularly ferocious dog seemingly came out of nowhere. The dog’s timing couldn’t have been better. Given the abrupt steepness of the hill, I couldn’t outrun him. The road was also narrow and I was approaching a blind curve, meaning I didn’t want to chance making a turn and speeding back downhill. I had no time to grab my water bottle and give him a squirt, and was sure if I attempted to slow and unclip I’d either let him take a chomp or fall.

With every turn of the pedals my calf inched closer to dog chow.

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Tighty Whitey

The Bike Noob, May 2010

Today I rode in a white kit.

Not just a white shirt, not a colored outfit with some white accents, but a white kit — white jersey, white shorts, heck, I even had on white socks. What’s the big deal? I’m not quite sure, but I can tell you it was the most self-conscious 30 miles I’ve ever spent on a bike. 

Before this goes any further, let me clarify. No, I didn’t buy it. I’m working on a story on cycling gear, and Pearl Izumi sent this particular outfit. And truth be told, I really like it. The fabric is super comfortable, everything fits well, and the chamois is awesome.

So what’s the problem? I don’t know, but I just felt like, well …a poser. It was bad enough worrying about what people in their cars were thinking about a guy clad in a skintight white outfit, but the idea of coming upon another strong, legitimate cyclist? I was getting chills just thinking about it. (Well, not literal chills, but give me a little artistic license here.) As to what would happen had I needed to change a dirty tire or fix a greasy chain…I won’t even go there. The ridicule that would ensue should my tighty whiteys get slathered in grease might damage me for life.

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The Chamois Cream Showdown

The Bike Noob, February 2010

I’m 40 miles into one of my usual rides and there’s a battle raging in my pants.

The combatants? Two chamois creams, each holding onto their own piece of territory. In this corner, weighing in at $19.99 for an 8 oz. jar is Paceline’s Chamois Butt’r, a pretty common cream found in many bike shops. In the opposite corner, weighing in at a daunting $24 for a 4 oz. tube, is pro rider Dave Zabriskie’s D’znuts, a premier high-end brand.

Which will take the title in the, uh, end? I’ll let you know as soon as my nether regions finish sorting it out.

Go ahead and laugh, but this is serious testing, from a bona fide professional journalist. Before my ride I had carefully measured out equal amounts of both creams (or just grabbed a two-fingered scoop), applied the creams to specific boundaries of my anatomy (or as specific as you can get when you’re messing with an area you can’t really see), and then got on the bike and rode a precisely measured course (I just go up to this sign, which is about 22.5 miles from home…and turn around).

Why? To find out once and for all if one glob of goo can actually be worth more than twice the price of the other. And yes, let’s face it, just to have the opportunity to say something about Dave Zabriskie’s nuts in print.

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