Out and about on a ridiculously gorgeous day. In November. With little wind and dry streets. Started the month one for one, and this is the 5th ride in as many days, which feels good, though a bit tiring.
A month layoff is really nasty, as you definitely drop a notch or so, but your brain won’t let you off the hook. It seems to remember how you could climb a bit faster and keep things rolling on the flats. It’s that damned grey matter which thinks it would be a good idea to sit and grind up a couple of climbs which probably were doable last month, but definitely took a bigger bite today.
In other words, I’m feeling it a bit tonight.
The other part, I’m sure, stems from using a coastable, many-geared drivetrain system for the past four months. With the Quickbeam running a fixed setup, when you ride for a couple hours or so, you are actually riding the whole time, just to state the obvious. Not that I’d want to change that. And while it makes you stronger, reminds you how to be comfortable when you are pedaling at a ridiculous cadence down some hill that you didn’t really register for the last couple months, and strips away the unnecessary whining, it also has its weakening aspects.
I noticed it immediately on the hills, the momentum of the bicycle feeding back into the drivetrain until you feel somehow lifted and you begin to climb like you’re dreaming. No weakening there, but it does convince you to just squeeze a little more power out. Of course, when you get back on a coastable bike, your image of yourself as a king of the montain gets more than a bit tarnished. Climbing fixed is an almost illicit thrill.
The more sinister bits lie in wait at the bottom and top of the pedal stroke, where after months of riding a fixed-gear system, you end up letting the cranks do the work a bit. It’s actually easy to loaf with a fixed gear setup, let the momentum pull your feet through the toughest parts of the pedal stroke to maintain power.
But, that’s probably a few weeks off. Today, I picked a slightly hillier route towards the bridge. I was able to breathe a bit deeper today, and didn’t have any bad coughing jags while out on the road. I’d hoped to make it all the way to the bridge today, but had started late after some chores, looped around a bit and realized that the engine probably wasn’t willing today. And by the time I’d gotten home at 4:15 or so, the cars had already been turning on their lights in some of the more shaded areas of the county. Dang, it ain’t summer no more.
Alas, the season of dark commutes has descended upon us again. Not that I haven’t been running lights on the way home recently, but the end of Daylight Savings has ensured that the evening rides will be well and truly dark.
But, even though sore and a bit worked, it was great to be out.
A bit spotty this past month, to be sure. Started slowly, and then was out on my back for a couple weeks with a flu.
When vague lucidity returned, I did manage to get the Quickbeam rigged up and running again, which was especially good as the Hilsen’s replacement crankarm from Ritchey seems to slip on the splined bottom bracket spindle. Nothing like a slightly out of alignment crankset to get your attention. To their credit, they wanted it back immediately, which means Homer is currently one-footed.
Cobbled together 140 miles on the bike, almost all of it in the last four days. Got out in beautiful weather today and rolled around on a nice loop for a couple hours. It felt long, but good. Really, really good.
Even with a week and a half gap, snuck into yoga for 7 sessions, though a couple times I think all I managed was mewling kitten pose. No running. Lotsa coughing and sleeping at odd hours. A 5 day span with only a total of 3 meals, more ‘cuz I was sleeping through it was wasn’t hungry when awake.
But, y’gotta get one of those out of your system now and again. At least I rode today.
2009 Bikey Miles So Far - 3141
and a Happy Halloween to you!
Through a quirk of the calendar, 4 months to the day after someone popped their truck door open at
precisely the wrong time, the Quickbeam headed onto the
roadway again. After a frame check to make sure that nothing structural got bent or damaged, followed by attaching new handlebars, brake levers and stem (all replaced out of pocket because I’m still waiting for the other driver’s insurance to
settle up…), and another saddle swapped over, the bicycle seemed ready for duty.
Yes, I did set the brake cables using an underwrap of hemp twine, shellacked with, uh, shellac. (An intervention may be necessary, as I’ve observed before.) Left the barends open, so they can take a core sample of anything that impales itself upon them. (I thought I had a set of Velox bar plugs - hell I know I do - but couldn’t find them before the ticking clock of “gottagetgoing” chimed…) Don’t think I’ll need to tweak the setup too much, but didn’t want to jinx it by wrapping everything into place. Commuted and did a short
errand after work, reminding myself again why I like this bicycle so
darned much.
Specifically -
It was great not to coast again.
It was great not to have to shift.
I really, really like the Jack Brown (Green) tires. Had them set at 65/75 psi and they felt like velvet.
Having a front bag (the L’il Loafer) that fits exactly on the rack (Nitto Mini Front) makes my heart sing.
It was funny, the bike I rode most recently before this was the Zeus, which is nothing if not an acquired taste. The frame is smallish - in the way we all downsized frames back in the last century - and between the lightish, standard gauge tubing and the significant leverage provided by the moustache bars, the bicycle flexes without hesitation under load. With the 650B (584 bcd) tire conversion, it has the low stance of a badger, and the head angle and fork rake combine to give it a unique trail. The first mile or so on the Zeus are a lesson of correction, finding the combination of position and input to let the bike move the way it wants to. Since I was using that more frequently, the idiosyncrasies became normal.
So, getting back on the Quickbeam took a little adjustment again - mostly to get used to a bike that acted entirely differently, but much, much more trustworthy. Four months without riding this bicycle has been a travesty, and it felt wonderful to enjoy the cool sunshine of late October, pedaling, pedaling, pedaling the whole time.
I’ve finally figured out that I get depressed when I break bike parts. Maybe that’s overstating things a little. I mean, it’s not like I’m weeping-in-the-streets depressed, but nonetheless, it bugs me. I don’t like seeing the parts break.
Certainly things break. And the recent crank failure appears to be a sub-spec part, so it wasn’t operator error. However, there’s a distinct lack of alternatives, and that’s pretty much my own damn fault. My combination of sloth and deferred maintainence kind of caught up to me. And that gets me clearly depressed.
Let me explain - I’ve mentioned this axiom before:
“As the number of bicycles increases, the chance that none of them will work correctly increases exponentially.”
Which means that when a wheel on one bike isn’t quite true, you tend to start using the next one, which then develops a bit of toe-in error and squawks whenever you squeeze the rear brake. So, you leave that one hanging in the garage - certainly meaning to get back and spend a few minutes with the wrenches to heal that up - and use the next for a while.
In my case, I’d been riding the Quickbeam until my forward motion was rudely interrupted by my index finger coming between me and a suddenly-opening truck door. That bent up the brake lever and bars well beyond repair, tweaked the stem and saddle rails and introduced me to the glacial-molasses world of insurance reimbursement.
Since the Hilsen was looking for use, once my shoulder and neck would allow it, that became my main ride.
Now, I did figure that I’d get the Quickbeam up and running again once the broken and damaged bits were replaced. (And, just to divert briefly, the other driver’s insurance company has been decidedly mute on paying off my damage. Hey, it’s only been 90-freakin-days!!!) So, maybe my sloth is a little off the hook on that one…
But, before I decided to try out the Brooks Swift on the Hilsen, I had been moving saddles around a bit, and had pulled the B-17 off of the Dawes fixed gear. Which meant it was dutifully awaiting its next assignment while brandishing a naked seatpost.
My geared hardtail mtb has a variety of issues - rear wheel, drivetrain, ratty cables - most of which have been multiplied by disuse and the removal of pedals sometime during last year’s cyclocross season. In fact, the geared mtb has been used so little, my most-frequent ride buddies have actually never seen me riding it. This is both comedic and tragic.
(And is starting to veer a little off-topic as well. It’s just meant to put a couple of asterisks next to the players on the scorecard - to see the ones who are nursing injuries. )
With the snapping crank of a week and a half ago, that pretty much left me with a set of mostly unrideable bikes. Oh, the Zeus is still plugging along, and it’s been my local errand bike reliably for a while. But, there is something in the back of my mind that troubles me when I’m relying upon a twenty…no… thirty year old bike and components of somewhat unknown provenance. I tend to treat it with the respect and fear that demands.
The last horse in the barn is the Bridgestone MB1SS. Which, by virtue of its singlespeedyness remains reliable, generally capable of being run hard and put away wet. But, there too, the gremlins of entropy chew greedily upon the tendons of hope. The last few times I’ve been out on the trails, there has been the relatively infrequent slip of the freehub, the tinny and thin alarm sounding the beginning of pawl death.
Now, it isn’t that I can’t fix these issues (well, except for the Zeus, which will only - hopefully - continue to grow older). But, free time has been at a premium this past month, and riding rather than wrenching has been the course I chose. And, if the folks at Ritchey Logic had suggested that the whole crankarm thing would be something other than a replacement, I would’ve pulled the other arm, swapped out the bottom bracket, slapped on the Sugino XD2’s that have been sitting in a box since the C. Xavier Hilsen project, and either swapped the 48T ring from the Ritchey or dropped the front derailleur down for the 46T on the Sugino, and I would’ve been good to go.
And I’m hoping to get free for a couple hours this week to head across the bay, drop in on the folks in Walnut Creek and pick up the bits I need to get the Quickbeam out again. That bike deserves to be on the roads and trails, and I’m missing the steady silent rhythm of riding fixed.
Even writing about getting those bikes going has perked me up a bit. (And I do think I’ve been fighting something this last week, which generally doesn’t help one’s outlook.) No telling what a little bit of time and energy can do.
Any month that starts off with a Century should have a good leg up on garnering a couple miles. I think this is actually my first 400+ mile month so far this year. Starting to feel “lankier” on the bike, which my internal term for feeling like there’s more room to move around a little bit better power here and there. It’s a good thing. It ended with a nice string of 13 rides in the last 16 days of the month.
Garnered 446 miles on 18 riding days. Had a really, really low energy weekend the week after riding the Marin Century with Gino, and had two high priority projects the following week, so I kinda pulled in my horns and schlumpfed around the house to make sure I was 100% for those things, then only got one ride in the following week. Mostly Hilsen miles, though I was using the Zeus and all its 650B goodness for some commutes this month. Haven’t got the Quickbeam back together, but I’m definitely wanting to have it up and running soon.
The ‘Cross itch has kinda started, and you can hear the stirrings in the hills as the practitioners of this Dark Art awaken. The plodding must commence this coming month, for McLaren lies in wait in early October… Actually did manage some light singletrack miles here and there, which is the first since the accident.
Yoga’d 8 times this month. Have been chipping away at the Marin Century writeup a paragraph or two at a time, which strikes me as a bit ridiculous, as it was now exactly a month ago. But, I’m also trying to sleep more consistently, which is why I’m cutting this post off here.
2009 Bikey Miles So Far - 2733
Well, of course, the month began pretty sparsely and ended the same. Took a couple weeks after getting doored before I got on the bike, and a couple more before things began to feel less uncomfortable. Then I took it easy this week. Which is about a month, eh?
Got a couple good rides in though, and spent this final week using the Carlos D training model of not riding before a longer event. In this case, that’s the Marin Century, which I’ll be riding tomorrow along with a true Northern California rider to be named later. Hopefully, photos and writeup will follow, along with a decent start to August mileage.
Garnered 330 miles on 12 rides. This month was exclusively geared/coastable miles on the Hilsen, as the Quickbeam has been getting some evaluation and R&R.
I did end up doing more yoga class sessions (9) in a month than ever before - first because it was the only thing that I could do and then because it seemed to help restore movement and range of motion. No running, but I would’ve if I hadn’t bounced off the roadway last month.
2009 Bikey Miles So Far - 2285
Not much update yet on things - still haven’t really felt like pulling the bits off my bike to check things. Mostly this is because I’m trying to catch up on a less-than-productive work week last week, combined with the start of a couple of classes this week.
This “time” you speak of, she is an elusive creature, no?
But, there are some good things to report on the meat-bits front, I reckon. Last night, I could actually see folds at my knuckle when I straighten the finger out, so it seems like the swelling is going down a bit. I’ll spare you images this time around, as now it really just looks like a sewing project gone horribly awry. The doc is pretty sure that I sprained my Teres Minor, as I have some strength and motion in certain directions and pain in other specific angles. My neck is clicking and popping a bit, but in a good way so far - more dropping into better alignment as swelling reduces. Will probably get to see my chiropractor pretty soon since he won’t be working against the tissuue quite so much. Ice has continued to be my friend.
I’m really happy that the general antibiotic course is over with. That stuff was making me a bit dopey, which didn’t assist in the whole trying-to-work efforts of last week. Actually have had a few moments of sharpness this week, which never should be taken for granted.
Hopefully, the grumpy/funky mood of not riding will not infect me. The yoga (still very light and careful) is helping, certainly, but the “Not-Riding-Jim” is potentially a Kilkenny cat and so I’m watching him very carefully…
In nothing else, it would be nice to get a light ride in so I can change the beeriffic photo that has remained my most recent on Flickr since last week. Not quite sure what angle will be comfortable… Zeus with the moustache bars? Singlespeed mtb? Get the cables rigged on the Hilsen? Sounds like Saturday’s project.
Meanwhile, a pretty cool bicycle model (or two) has been announced by GP over at Rivendell Bicycle Works: The Roadeo. Announced first over on the RBW “Knothole” journal, he clarified and elaborated on some points after it kicked up two vigorous threads on the iBob list and over on the RBW Owners’ Bunch list. (While I’m thinking about it, do kids grow up reading about Bronco Nagurski anymore? Of course, I read a lot more about football players back then.)
The announcement is pretty exciting - having refined the larger clearance for bigger tire models with the Saluki/A. Homer Hilsen/Sam Hillborne, they created a model at the other end of the spectrum. The Rambouillet had previously been their “lighter” road model, but if you read through the description, it was always thought of as a versatile road bike that wanted to see trails and trickier topography. The limit really was brake reach, which got solved first through the use of a 650B tire size (Saluki/584) and then with the advent of the Silver Long Reach brakes (A. Homer Hilsen).
This meant that while the Rambouillet had a lot of attractive features and fans, it was in reality pretty close to the Hilsen - perhaps more change of emphasis than of the basic design.
But, a lot of folks have continued to ask for the Rambouillet and openly lament its disappearance from the Rivendell line. However, the Roadeo seems to offer a lot of the Rambouillet’s zippiness in a lighter framed model. It freakin’ sounds fast… (and you should just read through GP’s description, if you hadn’t by now.)
The other thing which gets mentioned in that post is a newer, leaner, meaner version of the Quickbeam. Which, if you haven’t figured out by now, is pretty much the bike I use for every type of riding. There’s something about that aesthetic of using a limited system to find a certain richness of experience.
Which, quite honestly, I’m looking forward to getting back to.
Well, the month of June certainly ended with a bang - literally.
Thought I’d be able to nudge the year over the 2K mark before the month ended, but Monday’s homebound commute got cut short, and I don’t count ambulance miles. Good thing I decided not to be a hand model. (Of course, there’s probably some specific sub-genre that my newly detailed hand would be good for, but maybe I’m better off not knowing about such things…)
Saw a variety of scenery this month (here, here and here) and managed to get some decent rides in despite a little travelling.
Notched 384 miles on 17 and a half rides. Had felt pretty good for most of last Saturday’s hottin’ up ride, which was a 50 mile fixed loop. Only 3 yoga class sessions, but more walking and hiking. I guess I’m working up my nerve to start running (pre-cross-time!)
Again, all Quickbeam-fixed miles, except for one loop on the MB1.2009 Bikey Miles So Far - 1955
Posted by: The Cyclofiend @ 10:05 am
Didn’t mean for this to become an appendage-focused theme or anything, but I spent last evening getting my neck, shoulder and hand x-rayed and finger sewn up.
Seems it’s never a good idea to let someone suddenly open up their truck door into you and try to use your finger as the padding. Especially when you are underway in your lane, heading for home at the end of day. Go figure.
As I mentioned on the Flickr page,
you do get a nifty bracelet. And tie-job.
Other salient facts:
About a dozen stitches to sew up a pretty good laceration. Caught it
all on the paw and then tumbled. Got to ride in an ambulance on a back board with
neck brace until the xray’s convinced ‘em no bone breakage. Shoulder,
neck and hand were concern. The police have the quickbeam so I won’t
know until I pick it up today. Feel like I’m typing with mittons. Pretty stiff and sore today.
More later, got some errands to do, obviously.
…and other random thoughts.
A week ago Sunday, I stepped upon a bee whilst trying to quickly coil up a hose in the backyard. Hurrying, focused on where I was trying to go rather than where I was, supremely noncognizant of the fact that whenever the yard gets watered, bees come out in force enjoying the micro-humidity. So, there I was, one clearly articulated anglo-saxon construction later, watching the arch of my foot swell up. Since I was fishing rather than riding, it was annoying. But, I did learn that whatever other skills Long John Silver had, staying upright on one foot while on a rocking boat was a mad skill he owned.
So then the following evening, while trying to let in the neighbor’s cat (which we were tending to) after dark, while again barefoot, the tips of my toes found the odd lumpy bit of rough concrete in which must have held up a deck many years ago. It, of course, hadn’t moved in the entire time we’ve lived here, but it had dropped out of my mental map of the yard. In my defense, it was 2 am, and the lights were (cleverly) not on.
Luckily for my personal relations, I managed to wonder why water had gotten all over my foot and toes before I climbed back into bed, turned on the bathroom light and observed, “hmmm, that’s a fair amount of blood…”
The end result of these clever actions was a truly awkward pedaling style for half of last week. It did get me out of the habit of generally using the tip of my left foot when I stop. The discomfort reminded me that if the feet aren’t happy, cycling is not terribly comfortable.
But, by Thursday, the swelling had morphed into the fun itchy-itchy feeling, and the toes didn’t leak while switching from downward dog to plank during yoga.
The tail end of the week brought some actual summer-type heat with it. I tried to loop down to the bridge and back without pausing too much, but finally had to get out of the 98-degree heat briefly at about two and a half hours. Still, it was the first hot day I can recall in a long time. The blast of sea breeze at the GG Bridge felt great.
Athough, I do think it set up a bit of a shock when I headed back north to the warmer conditions.
Sunday evening I headed up to China Camp for a trail loop on the MB-1Singlespeed. Spent the first 15 minutes of the ride feeling like there was something seriously wrong with the back end of the bike. Then realized that for the past 20 or so rides, I’ve been on the fixed-gear rigged Quickbeam. Although I did end up adding a bit of pressure to the rear tire, I couldn’t shake the feeling that the 26″ wheeled (559) rig felt entirely like a scooty little monkey bike.
It’s nice when you feel undergeared and unable to disconnect your tires from the trail.
Anyway - gotta get to work. Just been in a habit of not writing and wanted to amend that behavior.
Thinking about arcs tonight. Graceful, beautiful arcs.
It started on this evening’s trail jaunt. After being snagged into a mildly unnecessary meeting today, I missed out on connecting with a visitor to this fine region. That got me a bit grumbly for a while, but maybe it just wasn’t in the cards for this time. The meeting pushed back the more pertinent projects that I should have been addressing, which in turn had me working later than I’d planned. Suddenly realizing that it was later than it should have been, I blasted away from work and punished myself a bit to hustle home. For the evening yoga class.
Yes, I was hurrying and stressing to get to yoga on time.
There’s a message in there somewhere.
Got home to find that my wife had learned that our instructor would not be there, and the Evil Twisty Lady from Tuesday night would be leading the class. E.T.L. had appeared at the last class, covering for the regular person. The regular instructor is very, very good - intutive, careful, aware and mindful that she is leading a beginning class. E.T.L. had us doing moderately advanced stuff right out of the gate, all of which seemed to morph into some type of spinal twist. This left me all too aware of a bad spot in my neck which hadn’t hurt for a while, but was now.
Which meant that I was wholeheartedly in favor of my wife’s decision to skip the class.
And I managed to get a little grumpy then too, as it would have been better to work another half hour, finish things and not get all kerfuffly trying to be home at a specific time. Of course, it then dawned on me that I could dump my bag, put on some arm warmers and head back out again. This helped me to be less of a grump. Which, of course, allowed me to see I’d been more of a grump than was necessary.
Luckily, grumpiness whithers under scrutiny and laughter.
So, I hit the road, aided by a tailwind and the solar power of the descending sun. Was thinking that a loop around the point would be nice, but upon reaching China Camp, it was obvious that the Jack Brown tires were clamoring for a little trail dust in their teeth. By this time the grump arc had reached zero again, which meant that for the purpose of the measurement phase, it had ended.
Arcs continued to keep my attention as I rode. The trails have hardened up, and the oscillations of the bike were definite. My body, however managed to float above it, and I found myself thinking about the arc it made as the Quickbeam dropped down into dips and bumps.
I thought about arcs of power and accelleration.
That thought seemed to get at the crux of singlespeed riding in general and fixed-gears on trails in particular. By this time, I was having a grand old time, hitting it hard when line of sight allowed, nipping the crux line on smooth, fat tires, feeling the bike move to hug the trail as I hovered above it, offering all manner of body english to keep the pedals moving and things heading the right way.
The Quickbeam has a 14 tooth fixed cog, so with the large chainring, it measures out at around 77 gear inches. This means that there are times when my cadence is probably, I don’t know, around 12 or so rpms. (For example, with a quick visit to the Sheldon Brown Gear Calculator, 40 rpms in this gear is slightly more than 9 mph.) There’s plenty of power, but little ability to accellerate.
(As I type this, it seems that there may be a Trail corollary to the “Climbing Gears” in a fixed system. I’ll have to ponder that some more.)
This became clearer while rolling up on a mixed group of coastable mtb-folk. I’m sure they climbed a bit higher earlier in their ride, and now were happily twiddling away in a refreshing low gear. After working my way past the tail end members of the group, the leaders fell into alpha-male mode and protected the honor of those I had passed by increasing the pace. (Which I completely understood. Who the heck wants to get passed by some dorky guy wearing a sweater riding a smooth-tired road bike with luggage on it and a bottle in a frame mounted cage. Plus, I’m still running fenders with green tweed flaps.) They moved away quite easily at first, maxed out their spin in the 36/32 combo and bought a couple of gears with their clicky bits.
The topography helped me out a bit by easing slightly down. This is where the acceleration arc abruptly changed. There’s a magic point where speed and cadence suddenly give way to some weird turbo boost and I went from 20 yards off their tail to contemplating the hairs on the back of the other rider’s neck in a quick hiccup. Just another example of what the first person I ever knew who rode singlespeeds told me, “On a singlespeed, you are either going very slow or very fast.”
They veered off and took to the road. I kept on the trails and dirt, playing in those combinations of speed and cadence that suddenly gave acceleration. Playing is good.
I just love that part of the arc.
Not the most impressive of months. Out-o-town trips and class/family committed weekends kept anything like a long ride from happening. Still, managed to keep the commutes sharp and snuck in a few cheap miles here and there. Not feeling too spunky after a steady week of riding (yeah…the day after I wrote about how good I felt - shoulda been a clue right there…) and have event tomorrow for which I need to be on top of my game, so coasted all last week to ensure prime condition.
Right about 233 miles with a measley 11 “riding days”. Ouch. That hurts to read in print.
All Quickbeam-fixed miles, except for one loop on the MB1.
6 Yoga Sessions (and it’s continuing to help). No running.
2009 Bikey Miles So Far - 1571
Kinda fell off my game the last couple of weeks, riding-wise. Didn’t stop riding, per se, but had both other priorities and a distinctly weird lack of energy. I’ll blame the weather a bit, as the temps dropped down to double-wool and a wind vest layers and the winds were just weirdly gusty after the ridiculously warm weekend mid-month. Still, that’s no excuse exactly. Heck, it’s no excuse at all. So, we’ve ended with a month mainly of errands and commute runs, with only one plus-50 mile jaunt on the docket.
On the non-grumbly side of things, I ended the month with my fourth yoga class (two per week), which has already helped a bit to unkink various bits and joints. Even helped me put today’s disappointment into something resembling perspective. The disappointment is not cycling related, and as such not particularly related to this space. And anyway, I think it’s going to work to my advantage a bit in the long run.
OK. That mystical paragraph behind us now, here are the numbers:
Shorter rides this month, but I could see that was the way things were shaping up, so probably harder efforts now and again. Right about 350 miles
in 17 “riding days”. All Quickbeam-fixed miles, except for one loop on the MB1.
4 Yoga Sessions. No running. Missed the SFR Russian River 200K as I was in class (not a yoga class) that day.
2009 Bikey Miles So Far - 1338
The last couple weeks were a bit hectic and scattered. Through it all, I sensed that fabric was being folded and needles were coursing along seams. Sure enough, the Zugster Rando Bag 002 appeared via the electronic imaging machine. I kept looking at the photos and wondering how I could shake loose for a Quickbeam loop into the city to pick it up. After pretty much giving up hope of seeing my new bag in anything other than Flickr sets, Adam and I managed to connect late on Sunday at an undisclosed location where the delivery occurred. After shaking his hand about 23 times, we went our separate ways and I poked and prodded at the bag, which seemed a wee bit nervous about its future.
Just to assure it that it had nothing to worry about, I bumped around a little later than usual, rigging and setting the bag onto the Nitto Camper “Mini Front Rack” on the Quickbeam. I gotta say, as nice as I’d hoped it would look, Adam’s workmanship just made it sing -
The rack setup is not really ideal for it. It would easily work, mind you, but the rack has an angled loop at the rear which pulls it a bit toward the handlebar and makes it slightly tricky to work the cord release on the top flap (More precisely, it makes it a bit tricky to secure the loop - it’s doable, but there’s just things to work around.) The bag is maybe an inch shorter than the rack platform as well. I don’t want to make major modifications to this rack, because the Nigel Smythe Lil Loafer is sized perfectly for it.
You can kind of get an idea of what the rack is like here - 
The angled loop is set identically to the Mark’s Rack, which I use on the Hilsen - 
And, as I ponder these two images, it seems that it would be a reasonable thing to consider cutting the loop on a Mini-front or Mark’s rack, then reattaching it. And, since I’m cutting it anyway, it would probably make some sense to create a purpose-designed release system, such as the one Alistair Spence used on his Paramount - 
Which seems to be a lot about racks and not much about bags. Which wasn’t really my point when I started. One does tend to lead into the other, and I must admit, I hadn’t really thought much about the rack yet. I was just so psyched when Adam said he had a space in the queue that I just dove in.
Still, there are worse problems to have than pondering those possibilities.
In the meantime, with the regular bits that I bring on my commute - U-Lock, keys, snackies, mini-pump, a vest and some arm and knee warmers, my “be-seen” kit of reflective bits and a spare light and some other odds and ends - it seemed to very happily sit proud and square on the rack on the route to and from work. There’s a light coroplast stiffener which helps in the rigidization.
The bag itself is a custom Medium size - Adam sized the width down slightly from the standard dimensions. It fits just as hoped for, and once I move it slightly forward, things will be even more accessible. In the meantime, I’m enjoying the heck out of this bag - 
Good steady riding this month, especially considering I felt like crud for a solid week. Only one semi-epic - the mixed-terrain ride to honor the ridiculously gorgeous spring weather last Saturday. Notched the belt at 66 miles on a variety of surface. Other than that, it was mostly shorter rides on a steady basis. Right about 370 miles in 16 “riding days”. What I recall we used to call “laying a base”. There were also 7 “sick days” which could be called “laying about.”
Quickbeam-fixed miles mostly. A couple of trail rides on the MB1, including tonight’s to end the month. The Hilsen was getting a new stem, and for some reason I managed to both cut the housing too short and not have any appropriate housing in the parts pile.
I’m actually pretty happy about the consistency. It’s been the most regular riding month in memory. Didn’t get to the gym but a couple times, and still haven’t gone out to run for it’s own sake. Sounds like an April goal, I reckon. Along with staying healthy and not fretting about it.
2009 Bikey Miles So Far - 989
Sort of in “List Mode” today for some reason. Well, the reason is simple enough - there’s a couple hundred K to ride on Saturday and there are things to do. Sent off the check yesterday morning. Sadly, no one has offered up a pro contract for my brevet riding, so there’s still a week o’ work between here and there.
Deeply bummed to get word from Gino that he’s not going to ride.
Last Saturday’s ride produced the first flat I’ve had on the Jack Brown-Greens. One moment everything is rolling along nicely, the next I’m wobbling on a poorly padded rear rim. I’d been expecting it - the JB’s were original equipment on the Hilsen, which was new-to-me on September of 2007. When swapping them out and back for the CXSR adventure, they felt like the paper-thin Vittoria’s which lasted all of one ride (many moons ago, on a different bike).
As I waited for the vulcanizing fluid to dry, I worked my way around the tire more carefully. There were definitely a few nicks and gouges, and I could see the beginnings of casing at a few more. Luckily, replacements were already on order.
Everything else felt pretty good on the bike. It needs a deep cleaning. There’s also a slight rear hub looseness that I haven’t eliminated. Need a bench vise for the hub issue. My longest wrench won’t budge the freewheel. Probably Thursday AM for the scrubbing, which should give me enough reaction time if I find some other bit that needs replacing.
The greasy residue on my fingers also reminded me that I wanted to pack a little vial of Gojo. One of the downsides of derailleur-less systems is that you end up handling the chain more. And it’s amazing how few bathrooms now seem to have soap dispensers.
On Saturday’s ride, my cleats popped out a couple times while climbing. I’ve been breaking in a new set of SIDI’s, using a fresh set of new-version Time ATAC cleats. The Quickbeam has had the oldest set of ATAC pedals I own - gen 1’s, I reckon - the kind with the composite body (I’m pretty sure they were OEM take-off’s from something…). The old SIDI’s were worn down almost slipper-like, nearly smooth as dress shoes on the soles. I expect from the ten or so years of pushing pedals, they had molded a bit to the shape of the pedals. These new ones were working two variables, and I suspect the freshly-molded shape combined with the B-class fit of the new cleat design with the old pedal bodies caused it.
However, momentum is always such a fickle mistress. On longer rides, so is attitude. While it didn’t bug me on Saturday, I suspect that over the longer distance from Davis to Pope Valley, a few of those forced-single-legged-riding incidents and I’d be pretty grumpy. So, on Sunday night I swapped in the newest ATAC’s from the Hilsen.
This worked well for Monday’s commute. Curious thing, using the pedals with the cleats that were designed for them.
Monday exposed some other issues as well. Namely leaky bits. A couple weeks back I’d ridden off into a rainy headwind for a while to go see the Tour of Calfornia cross over the Golden Gate Bridge -
My feet - in the new SIDI’s - were soaked within a mile of leaving the house. My “rain” gloves were uselessly sodden within a half hour. Water seeped into my front bag (mostly from the bottom - spray off the front of the fender). I’m pretty sure my jacket leaked (and I had bought it in Oregon!). Though I brought a bag to cover my saddle while it was parked, I figured my ample hams and the Rainlegs would cover it appropriately while riding. It mostly did, but the results were evident -
Since we’re enjoying yet another late-but-torrential rainy season, these things are important. It seems I’m now in wet conditions test-mode on the Brooks. Will advise as more data comes in. I let it air dry completely. Gave it a little daub of Proofride where it was bone dry. Let that sit for a day. Then tightened things up about a half - three-quarter turn (first time on this saddle - another with-the-Hilsen OEM bit).
But, that all was a couple weeks back. Yesterday, I headed off into what looked to be clearing conditions, looped out the long way to work and was promptly caught in a heavy, wind-driven shower which lasted all the way there. Damp feet (new socks which seemed much, much better), sodden gloves, the silicone spray seemed to work on the front bag (though now it pooled on the top rather than seeping directly in), and the vague feeling that my jacket wasn’t quite doing its thing. And I pondered about 9 more hours in such conditions. Not the best set of thoughts.
Rainlegs would’ve been much better than the non-waterproof pants I was wearing. Even though my upper parts were damp, I was comfy. Might’ve even been happier with one less layer and a warmer hat. I’ve decided that my Voler Rain Gloves aren’t - though they make dandy wind/damp gloves. The simple wool gloves work better the wetter it is.
The shoes/feet thing is probably the worst. Anything that gets that uncomfortable that quickly will not correct itself easily. I have toe warmer things for cold and old, old neoprene booties from more open-wheeled racer days - neither one quite right. Road spray is a bit of an issue, and I’m going to try running some flexible wire down the fender flap. Someone at the SFR 200K was running shower caps on their feet, which struck me as reasonably brilliant. Riding along in both the recent sloshy outings, it was also clear that a significant amount of water drips down off of my arms right onto my feet.
I’m going to try to leave work a bit early and loop down to REI - first to pick up some Nikwax stuff to revitalize the jacket, and then to take a look at lighter weight shoe covers or waterproof socks. Leaning towards the covers, with maybe a spritz of silicone.
The Niterider is heading down for warranty work - my disco light
condition frequent enough to be noted in the FAQ. In a wonderful
world, I’ll be finished and off course well before needing
illumination, but decided on a little bit of “see” lighting in addition
to my “be seen” bar light. First, I removed the front of the rack mount, then P-clamped a Coast V2 Tac-light LED flashlight to the side of the rack. It’s supposed to have about 100 hours on 3 AAA’s, and throws a decent amount of light. Could only get black through my distributor at work, but it’s good for now.
Though all this the bike is working great. One of the grand things about a derailleur-less system. Riding home last night, the winds swirled and howled Since my revelation about cross-wind reactions, things have seemed even more solid on the Quickbeam.
Sat at the desk last night trying to get my mind around “equivilences”. Y’see, the other issue here is that I’ve actually not ridden any of the roads upon which the Davis 200K is routed. The two brevets I’ve done have been over a true home court advantage. I’m looking at elevations to the dam at Berryessa and thinking it’s roughtly the same as White’s Hill. I’m thinking that 54 miles to the Pt. Reyes Lighthouse will be similar to less climbing and the 67 miles to the Pope Valley control. I’m estimating speed on the flats, on the climbing section, then the undulations to the turn around point. Estimating where I’d like to try to take a break as suggested by topography, mileage and the presence of stores. In other words, I’m fretting a bit.
But, it’s a good kind of fretting. Planning in redundant systems of failure. Analyzing variables.
I’m also thinking that winds will be an issue, and as such am happy that the last few rides had a goodly amount.
Ok. Gotta get going. Warned you this was “Nattering”…
With this morning’s loop, February kicked up a bit towards the end of the month.
343 riding miles with a 58 and a 63 Saturday loop, plus a soggy 48 to see the TOC riders cross the bridge.
Had one week feeling like utter crud - curiously enough following the CXSR race and the soggy 48 - so I was off the bike for the following week with not quite a cold, but coughing fits, sore throat and I think some fever.
Again, mostly fixed Quickbeam miles, though the Hilsen got in a bit of trail work. Four gym sessions. No specific running.
Tempted to punch my card at the Davis Bike Club 200K next Saturday.
2009 So Far -
619 bikey miles.
This bit of the story continues from here.
After peeling my muddy, soaked gear off and slipping into something at least dry, I wandered out to find the gang. JimG had brought brownies, and between those and a quick slug of strong and hot coffee from the thermos, I continued to feel pretty warm and upbeat. The folks up in Santa Rosa put on a right fine and homey show. At one tent, bags of free pretzels were in attendance. Others had food, beer and coffee offerings. Fundraising raffles and the BikeMonkey magazine folks. An exuberant marching band (the Hubbub Club) arrived to regale us with tunes. A couple of beautiful weimaraners and a puppy or two hung out, wondering both about all the complex smells about and the sanity of their owners for bringing them along on a sloppy day.
It felt like I was surfing a bit of the post-race elation, but as the capillaries began to constrict again, the cold and damp seeped in a little bit. After a quick facilities check, it seemed to make sense to sit for a spell and see if there was any reason to think that racing again was a good idea. I regained the motor vehicle, wrapped some jackets over myself and sipped my way through the Clif electrolyte beverage. When mixing it that morning, I realized that I had bought a “Hot Apple Cider” which the instructions specifically said was to be made hot - the implication of a glowingly warm drink being a friendly recharge. Ignoring those instructions, I had made it with cold water - it isn’t like I had a large enough thermos to maintain another hot beverage anyway. Still, it was pretty good, and the chemical compounds seemed to do their thing.
Somewhere out on the other side of the front windshield, the women’s wave went off. A few of the fast folks I recognized from the BASP races moved out to the front, the thickening mud making progress iffy and soiling the pink-and-flowereed Sheila Moon racing kits that were in attendance. Singlespeeds, A’s and B’s were all out in a 45 minute race. Whoever was off the front moved through the conditions with an amazing momentum and fluidity. But, her dark jersey quickly became mud-sodden, so by the time she went by, I couldn’t pick out any logos (and as of right now, they still haven’t posted results on the Bikemonkey.net site).
By this point, I had maybe an hour and half until the Old Guy Geared race at 2:30. I had two thoughts on the subject. One, I didn’t feel totally torched by the first race, and in fact had felt a little better towards the end of it. Two, I have a pathological dislike for racing/riding for less time than it takes to get to the race/ride. At this point, I’d gone for about 15 minutes less than it took to get there (well, if you discount the warm-up riding).
Stepping back out into the day, I made my way down to the signup tent, and inquired what one had to do if one was so idiotic as to want to take the organizers up on the offer to engage in the free second race. Unfortunately, the Human Services Officer was down at the beer tent, heckling the women’s racers, so there was no one to engage in an intervention. Thus, the sign-up folks were all too happy to give me a second number, and transfer my information to the next start sheet. At the same time, I met a fellow who was also older and multi-geared. We chatted a bit, and I mentioned that I’d done the singlespeed race earlier. He said, “Oh man, I did that earlier this season. It was a great workout, but it hurt! “
Somewhere behind me, there was the of sound a large and heavy door swing shut on rusted ancient hinges, closing with a resonant echo that dissolved into eerie silence.
Oh. Goodie.
Since commitment to a stupid idea is often key, I decided to change back into a more cycling-oriented attire before completely losing my nerve. Luckily, I had a backup set of dry clothes, so there was not the chilling sensation of damp and muddy chamois contact. About this time, it struck me that the C. Xavier Hilsen was shod with my older, much more worn set of tires. If any course conditions cried for every bit of tire surface area and knibbly bite-ability, this was it. Conditions continued to degrade visibly as the other race laps continued.
This was during the women’s race -
Hemming and hawing a bit, time suddenly seemed much shorter, and the reappearance of JimG was highly fortuitous. He dove into the task of swapping my muddy front tire from the Quickbeam over to the Hilsen. Quicker than I could hand him levers and a pump, the newer tread was in place, and there was pretty much nothing left to do but race.
Again.
I pedaled around a little bit, found a Honey Stinger Gu-analog in my pocket and fired that down for whatever good it might do. Then lined up in the wave of guys who were old enough to know better. Putting my foot down as we waited for instructions, it seemed to set very deeply into the mud. There was no longer any grass left to speak of. When I picked my foot up for a second, the attached mud made it appreciably heavier. Of course, once you are out there with a number pinned to your side, you have pretty much traded away any opportunity to slink unnoticed back to the car.
An electric guitar version of the star-spangled banner played, and then the young pup B’s headed out. A minute or so later, we dug in and saddled up. Things felt a little clunky at the start, and it seemed as though my swapped-in-from-the-MB1 WTB saddle was a trifle too high. Beginner’s error, but no time to mess with it.
Actually. Honestly. The “beginner’s error” in this race was bothering to bring a bike with gears. For the next 45 minutes or so, there was no chance of spinning out the Quickbeam, and although the C. X. Hilsen would’ve gotten jealous, I think it secretly would have been very happy to stay in the back of the dry vehicle. Plus, there would have been a few less surfaces to pile on mud.
I suppose for the first 15 minutes or so, things didn’t really feel that bad. Slipped, slid and slogged a bit, to be sure, but nothing really horrible. Then I noticed that the mud seemed to be packing up a bit. Then a bit more. The bike began to get noticeably heavy. Then my body began to get noticeably heavy. The bicycle had an excuse, as it was adding mud that I couldn’t manage to shed through momentum, the odd bunny hop or simply dropping the bike hard after shouldering it. The race became a bit of a slog.
They say when you’re head is down, you’re in a bit of trouble. In the above photo, you’ll notice that if my head were any further down, it would start going up. I must point out though, in this small sized image of Gino’s photo, it appears as though my eyes are closed too. They weren’t. I mean, it wasn’t that bad.
The course continued to dish out its challenges. The intended directional input seemed to matter less and less with each lap. Each time down the creek dip brought with it new and interesting explorations of geometry. I think I manged to stay upright most of the times, but it wasn’t pretty and the tangential angle began earlier each time. The runups were, well…runups. In the singlespeed race, I’d managed to pedal up some of the time, but now the power had seeped out of my legs and it became a game of trying to ride the momentum to the moment of inertial loss, then hop off and try to find some angle of toe entry or foot splaying that would generate something resembling grip.
I think I cursed once. Well, I know I did. But, I did apologize.
However low optimism set in the west, somewhere through the mud-soaked haze I could hear Gino and JimG yelling. At some point, Gino ran alongside for a while (well, let’s be honest here - he trotted… Ok…he at least walked briskly…) barking encouragement and snapping a few photos. I don’t think I thanked him enough afterwards - it was actually quite helpful.
The short stair runup became a weird thing to fear each lap, but the tactile sensation became quite loathesome. As it was the one place to be shouldering the bike, I would grab the downtube. Each time, there was a thick, cold hunk of mud which would form into my glove, creating one of those weird, finger imprint shapes that was popular on golf club handles for a while.
The announcer took up some of the heckling as well, as I would generally go by with few, if any competitors around. At one point, I guess he figured out this was my second race, and offered the observation that it must’ve seemed like a good idea at the time. Only, he again mined that for all the humor it was worth.
Yep. Like I didn’t think of that, myself.
Anyway, it eventually ended.
I pedaled off into the sunset following the guy I never quite caught, chatted with him for a little bit while my breathing normalized. Then the gang caught up to me and the documentation ensued.
That, my friends, is one muddy bike. I guess it kinda gives away the fact that I didn’t use the big ring too much during the race. But, it was over.
We hung for a while watching the A’s go past. The rain which I’d prayed for during my race finally came. I used up 8 or 10 water bottles to try to knock off enough mud to load it onto the roof rack. JimG was kind enough to offer the use of the shower at his hotel room. Gino was resourceful enough to notice a stray hose outside the same hotel and I got to play euro-trash bike racer and hose everything off near the front entrance.
We rested a bit, and then headed up to Healdsburg, where aside from a tippy table dropping a pint or so of someone elsee’s beer onto my lap, it continued to be a great evening. Bear Republic serves a great root beer and ale, some darned fine polenta and one of the zippiest concoctions of garlic fries you are likely to come across.
The company was off-the-charts great, and it was wonderful to cross the streams - introducing the Bay Areans and Chico Hooligans forged friendships which should continue to grow in future rides and outings.
Rumor has it that we may all head to the next CX Nats up in Bend, Oregon in December. Word. (Um… do the kids still say that?)
As mentioned here a few times, the Chico Hooligans had planned an offensive to the south, and showed up in force minus one for the Last CX Race of Last Season, put on last Saturday (2/14/09) in Santa Rosa by the enterprising folks at BikeMonkey.net. I hadn’t toed the line or thought about time and place based racing since BASP #4 back in November. (Scheduling conflicts had prevented a full-season attendance, causing me to miss the race at Coyote Point.) But, as any cross-junkie will tell you, once you start thinking about barriers, run ups and lap cards, the twitch sets in and you’ve gotta get your fix.
The good stuff, y’know - the uncut, pure cyclocross fix - always has some weather mixed in.
Oh sure, we had a little residual mud down at the Candlestick Park race. But, for the most part, the most pressing question about the weather was where to toss your arm warmers before your race, so you could find them again afterwards.
It started raining mid-week or so. Big, heavy drops with serious intent. Our sump pump kicked on for the first time in months, it seemed. Then, it just kind of kept raining. And (for us) it was a relatively cold rain - snow levels were said to be below 2,000 feet. Though we probably wouldn’t see flurries, it would certainly be damp.
Chico Gino had come across a Vanilla Singlespeed CX bike through an incredibly serendipitous chain of events. So, he had entered in the B Singlespeed division. I decided that would be a fun way to spend the day, so on Friday night, I swapped, flipped and stripped the Quickbeam, and made it ready to race. The Hilsen was still in C. Xavier Hilsen mode, and since the second race was free, I brought it along just in case I was stupid enough to do the Geared, Old-Guys race.
On race day, my wife was feeling a little less-than-perfect, not buoyed by the possibility of either (A) standing in the rain watching us race or (B) sitting in the car trying to stay warm. Against her strong protestations, I made her sit this one out and headed north with a loaded car. Which should explain the dearth of photos for this event.
It rained most of the way to the Sonoma county border, then cleared to a low cloud cover, with some heavy dark clouds still threatening to the west. I got to turn off my wipers, but the steady hiss of tires on wet pavement continued to the race venue - Doyle Park in Santa Rosa. I’d never been to that particular park before, arrived at the wrong parking lot, corrected and pulled off a ridiculously fine bit of parking karma to snag a place facing the course. Exiting the vehicle, an orange and metal-fendered bicycle eased along at the edge of my vision. This turned out to be Claire, Gino’s wife, who had ridden over from the hotel and was tracking down the rest of the gang. They appeared quickly, and I met Paul P., Roy and Renée, who had previously existed only in photos by reputation. Gino was there, and kindly allowed me to fondle and parking lot ride the Vanilla, which was even lighter than I’d imagined and ridiculously nimble-feeling.
Back on the Quickbeam, I plodded around the course to find and deconstruct the tricky bits, figured conditions would degrade quickly once tires began removing the sod, and opted for trying to get my heart rate up on the paved roads around the park.
Before too long, we all lined up on the squishy wet grass and awaited the start. As B Singlespeeders, we were looking at a 30 minute race, and had to wait for the Men’s C wave to start before they released us. Someone had observed that the lawn had no idea what was about to happen to it.
Then we were racin’!
Gino hit the gas, his BMX-roots still vibrant and fertile. I slip-slopped a bit on the grass before beginning to thread my way through all manner of Junior B’s and C’s that started with us. They routed us on a “follow-the-concrete” parade lap to begin, and within a minute or two, we came upon a herd of brake-squealing, momentum-killing, oh-we-have-to-ride-this? folks in the C’s.
Now, I bear no animosity towards the C’s. And it wasn’t like a title or a jersey was on the line. And, to be blunt, it wasn’t like I was going to win or anything. And it isn’t like I haven’t hit the brakes at an inopportune moment and heard the gasp of exasperation from a faster rider who had been behind me. But, there were obviously four relatively tricky bits on the course, and I had at least made a plan on what I wanted to do.
Just to break with the race narrative briefly, here is some unsolicited advice to any new or novice cross (or mtb) riders -
Y’know that “perfect” line you rode during your practice lap? (You did ride a practice lap or two, right?) It will not exist for you. Sure, it’s nice to have a sense of where you’d like to be, but for the first lap or so, you need to realize that every other person in your group wants to ride the exact same slice of topography in pretty much the same way. This will lead to everyone in front of you hitting their brakes, and, in the most egregious circumstances, standing stock still astride their bikes until they get their chance to ride “their” line. Now, remember, the course exists from tape to tape, not just the smoothed line that you rode earlier. So, when you come across a tricky bit during the early parts of the race, assume two things: (A) someone will be stopped and standing right in the middle of where you planned on riding, and (B) someone will have fallen and will be lying directly in your exit line. In fact, it’s probably best to assume that you will need to get through the section by following The Worst Line Imaginable. Therefore, when you engage in your practice lap, see what alternatives you can find.
Oh, and during the race, it’s ok to pick your bike up and run past people who are just standing there. As long as you don’t hit them, hook bars with them or yell at them.
Dropped in, scrambled up, brought a tree with me, detached it and remounted. Then we were into the “intestine” section - multiple right/left switchbacks among trees with incredibly short straights between - a course feature which I really hate to encounter on a singlespeed, when you are among geared riders, as they are twiddling in too low of a gear and you end doing a fair amount of half-stroke, half-stroke, half-stroke then trackstand work. This was exacerbated by the quickly degrading surface of the grass, which began to turn into a chili-type mud beneath our tires.
Still Gino was nearby - 
and I thought I saw the white Rock Lobster singlespeed that Paul was riding.
We worked our way out of the intestines (?!), found the only serious straightaway which led across a couple of curbs and into a broader set of switchbacks in front of the announcer and the tents. To keep interest up, the announcer was openly heckling us, and seemed to be mining the “keep-both-hands-on-that-Vanilla!” vein at Gino to humorous effect. Another switchback in front of the crowd, two barriers (a little higher than most and built to what appeared to be Mil-Spec) and another switchback, and we were heading towards the creek.
Gino shot by the other way, a vision of momentum and grace. I fell in with another group picking its way to the creek area. Luckily this batch had a little better sense of purpose, and we brought some speed into the drop in, which curved left and immediately climbed back up.
Well, theoretically. I found myself on a slide-for-life on a tangent to my preferred route. Slid for a while on shoulder and hip toward the water, came to a stop, got untangled and scrambled up the muddy bank. Dropped in on the next dip, came upon a bottleneck as the narrow trail constricted to a narrower set of concrete stairs. This was thoughtfully covered in sand, and had a 3″ steel pipe as a handrail at hip height, so you bang against it to constrain any course deviation. The sand, as it turned out, was a feature for the next ten or fifteen yards or so, bringing one of the endearing features of Dutch cyclocross to our fair lands.
We arched around the playground, found the sand once more and then bumped up a curb and down off some concrete edge to the creek again, looped around and came up. At this point, I realized my bars had been tweaked by the unscheduled landing, so I hopped off and twisted them back. The Quickbeam began to wonder just what it had done to deserve this kind of treatment. Back on again, we hit brief pavement, then headed to the fourth creek dip, which had been the first tricky bit on the first lap.
From here on, it was back to the maddeningly-slow-intestine-bit, followed by the why-don’t-I-have-any-power straight section, then the yeah-just-keep-heckling-monkey-boy bit, the sloppy running-the-barriers-is-supremely-uncomfortable
-but-for-some-reason-it-feels-better-than-pushing-pedals part, before repeating the creek dips. After the first lap or two, I was feeling pretty crappy. The mud was thickening and momentum was fleeting.
Then it started raining. Which you might think was a bad thing. But, you’d be wrong.
First, I’m one of those people that actually enjoys riding in the rain. Second, it made things wet rather than just gloopy, and the mud stopped sticking. In fact, it was downright refreshing.
As further support for the Kent Peterson mantra “Keep pedaling, it will get better”, I did. It did. And I commenced to start catching people. There was a Legolas guy out there, and I nicked by Paul (though I had to resort to making clanky derailleur sounds to fake him out), and some other folks. I did have to wonder how much some of those full suspension mountain bikes were starting to weigh by the last couple laps.
The C race leader caught me in the last curve, and so I got a free pass on the last lap. The fast kids like Gino had to finish theirs out. This was a cause for much rejoicing.
Gino finished shortly thereafter, just off the podium. Nicked by someone who went on to win her “A” singlespeed race.
The singlespeed force is strong in this one…
I spent a little time trying to knock the big chunks of muck off the Quickbeam, then sat for a spell. I don’t know if it was the new-to-me Clif electrolyte drink that I quaffed, or just the exuberance of escaping from a shorter race with fingers, toes and teeth attached, but, while the more sensible folks were donning warmer clothing and enjoying the ambience…
… an altogether much less clever idea was forming in my brain.
This story continues here…..
My bar tape finishing habits have been bothering me for some time. They began back in my Cinelli cork splash days (oh, come one… we all did it at least once…) when the “Cinelli-Cinelli-Cinelli…” finish wrap tape snapped (again!) just as I applied what should have been an appropriate amount of pressure. The electrician’s tape roll hung on a nail by the shared workbench, and I’d watched my sensei use it quickly and efficiently numerous times, while he would silently shake his head as I snapped my way through the stuff that came in the box. Since the final breakage of the C-tape meant it no longer even made one complete orbit of the bars, I reached for large black roll.
It worked quite quickly, and you could put a boatload of pressure on it. The resulting snap-back of the tape tightened things up even further. From that day forward, it was three and a half wraps of black electrician’s tape. No more tape popping and unravelling from the stem area.
More recently, it just started to seem cheap and tawdry. I’d notice the way it would catch the light and look wrinkled and scrunched. I’d see the adhesive residue creeping out from underneath, and spend more time cleaning up the bars to remove the gunk.
Recently, as the white bar wrap on the Quickbeam became increasingly dishwater grey, I felt it was time to move on. Back when the Hilsen arrived, Mark at Rivendell had finished off the cork wrap with an exceptional twining job:
In the year or so since I’ve had that bike, I’ve realized that you spend a fair amount of time with that general area in your field of vision. The care put into the twined and shellacked wrap tended to bring about a smile.
Honestly, I’ve been shying away from the whole shellac thing. Twining the bar tape seemed a bit like a simple gateway drug. Adding shellac just seemed to change people. It seemed that fine and normal folks would start there, then start wrapping and shellacking all manner of things. Which, in and of itself is fine. But, where do you draw the line? Clearly, I needed some boundries. Or, at least a safe word. Maybe a lacquer-buddy… My wife was starting to work with oil paints again, so we volunteered to watch out for each other.
The twine turned out to be the easy part (although RBW just mentioned that their source may discontinue the product). I just put it on the same order that brought a new chainring recently. Me and 385 feet of hemp twine, hanging out. Cool.
But shellac? Not so simple. Seemed like it should be easy enough to pick up at the chain hardware store near work. Well, only if I wanted a gallon. Or an aerosol spray can.
Nope. I figured that there could be little more dangerous than me armed with propellant-powered shallac. I recently recaulked the tub, using one of those clicky-gun-things. It was ugly. I mean, did you know that you had to pierce another seal after you clipped the tip off of the caulk module?
Local hardware store? No. Another local hardware store? They kept steering me over to the varnish display, and asking rather pointedly why varnish wouldn’t work better, especially since it came in a wide variety of colors and finishes. I think they knew about the hemp. Struck out at the big craft store, a model & hobby shop and Sears. I’d actually peeled the bars over the weekend, and was riding around with gloves and near-naked bars for these errands. It began to recall the recent theme of “Quest for Salmon Canti Kool-Stop Pads“…
Finally, I thought to hit up Marin Color Service - a contractor-oriented paint retailer who always seemed to have lots of cans of stuff on the shelves. A phone call confirmed they had it - both clear and amber - in sizes as small as a half pint.
Turns out they lied, of course. But not badly. I honestly hadn’t expected the clerk to wander out onto the floor the check that they had the smaller sizes, especially since they claimed to stock it, which at least meant they could probably order it. His answer had been so decisive that I hadn’t confirmed that they actually had clear in the little can. So, I had no one to blame but myself upon finding myself staring at a gallon of clear, and many varieties of the amber.
My plan had not been to start with the hard stuff. A clear sheen on some twine might mean wax or some sealant, but not necessarily shellac. The rich roasted color of the amber was a definite sign that I was using, similar to the Mentats. There was no turning back. They also gave me a free paint can opener.
So, it began.
Despite knocking the twine ball off its perch, chasing it across the floor and then figuring I had plenty of twine already pulled out only to find myself two wraps short (not enough tag end to do the nifty whip finish), things came together pretty well. I could put the kind of pressure on the turns that I’d only dreamed of with tape. The whip finish worked perfectly. The twine wraps were not specifically symmetrical, but close enough not to be offensive, while being different enough to be interesting.
Because it was Saturday, the weather silly-gorgeous and definitely time to ride, I neglected the shellac step before heading out onto the roads. But, last night, I broke out the cheap brush, spread a little paper and put a couple coats on the wrap. Here it is in this morning’s light:
In fact, it got me excited enough that I decided to re-coat Mark’s original twining job on the Hilsen. Since the working theory is that the C. Xavier Hilsen will be out on the course this coming weekend, I wanted it to look its best.
As I considered the bar tape, the fraying at the corners of the ramps worried me a bit. Once that works through, the unravelling begins. Granted, next on the work manifest was the stem replacement on the Hilsen, but in the meantime, I didn’t want to be trailing bar tape. And the shellac was open. And the brush was already dirty. And I knew it would help seal things a bit to resist the wear. And once I started, it looked pretty cool…
Um.. ok.. It may be time for an intervention. Maybe it’s something in the laquer. Once you get that brush in your hand, it’s really, really hard to stop. Let this be a lesson to you all.