amster amster dam dam dam

The refrain in the title touched me as a 9-year old. But now it appears that the world's location of license is also the bike friendliest. Portland, Ore., which The New York Times recognized for some reason the other day, came in No. 2. Davis, Calif., the city that basically invented bicycle planning in the United States, inexplicably came in at No. 5, behind Portland and Boulder, Colo. (and Copenhagen at No. 3). Claiming three of the top five spots but not No. 1 tells me that Portland, Boulder and Davis need to work on their licentiousness. Get crackin'.

Existence of cycling confirmed

According to today's New York Times. Well, in Portland, Ore. anyway. Other less authoritative sources, such as The Bicyclist, Bicycling magazine and the League of American Bicyclists had previously raised suspicions. Next step: prove that these machines and their users can be found elsewhere.

Turning and churning and burning

Dear Cycledork,

I've been working pretty hard lately on my daily 7.5-mile commute, so yesterday afternoon I decided to dial it down a notch and just enjoy the ride home. Much to my surprise, my time actually improved. This suggests to me that I've been wasting a lot of effort, and that I need to pedal smarter, not harder. Any tips? Just for context, the ride is quite hilly, with about 400 vertical feet of climbing in each direction.

-lady macsquish

Dear Lady:
Funny you should mention this observation. Not only have I seen this advised and suggested in numerous places, I have been trying it myself lately. And I'm getting the same results you are. In most flattish places on my commute I'm dropping back a gear and staying at about the same speeds or going a little faster. Descending I'm backing off two with no drop in speed. Climbing I'm relaxing by a gear in some places but I'm also a masochist and enjoy pushing it on hills. Little bumps are easier to get over at speed since it's easier to keep spinning. Result: my cadence is up, my speed is up, my heart rate is up. I'm considering the semiultimate experiment for this weekend: riding my favorite so called time trial route. My guess is I will be down one or two gears and be at or better than my best time. Look for the report.

As far as hows and whys, I am not immediately able to lay my hands on the best explanation I recall reading on the benefits of spinning — riding so that the cadence, or revolutions per minute of the pedals, is higher. But since I wanted to provide someone else's made up explanation rather than my own, I found this at trifuel.com, a site for people way too interested in these sorts of things and who don't think they have to address lay people (in other words, you're on your own with most of the jargon):

When you pedal a bicycle, your muscular system produces power to propel the bicycle and your cardiovascular system delivers oxygen, fuels the muscles, and removes waste products such as lactic acid. Selecting your optimal cadence is a matter of keeping these two systems in balance. The optimal balance is different for each person.

Spinning at higher cadences reduces the watts-per-pedal-stroke, a measure of the force required to produce a given wattage. This makes the workload more tolerable for the muscles. Most experts believe that this is because fewer fast-twitch muscle fibers must be recruited to create the high torque levels required at low cadence. Pedaling with a too-low cadence increases reliance on fast twitch fibers, causing premature lactic acid accumulation, which makes your legs burn.

Pedaling with high cadence, however, does waste some energy. Imagine setting your bike up on an indoor trainer and cutting off the chain. If you spun 100 rpm, the workload would be zero watts, yet your heart rate would elevate significantly above resting. Just moving your legs fast does use energy. Research has consistently demonstrated that cycling at 40 to 60 rpm generates the lowest oxygen consumption for a given wattage. Pedaling at too high a cadence overloads the cardiovascular system's ability to deliver oxygen to the muscles. The most obvious symptom of this is ventilatory distress.

High-cadence pedaling works your cardiovascular system more, but reduces the relative intensity of the leg muscles. The key, then, is pedaling with enough cadence to keep your watts-per-pedal-stroke at a level that your muscles can handle, but at a cadence that will not overload your cardiovascular system. The optimal balance is different for every rider.

I will translate one phrase: "ventilatory distress" means you can hardly fuckin' breathe. What I get out of the rest of this passage is that cadence is a tradeoff between pushing your legs and pushing your heart and lungs. And another thing: there is not a direct correlation between higher cadence and higher efficiency.

Other sources, such as Bicycling Magazine's 1,000 All-Time Best Tips, point out that becoming comfortable with higher cadences in lower gears can help riders become more comfortable with higher cadences in higher cadences. So keep trying it, see what happens and keep us posted. I'll do the same.

Yours in velophility,

Cycledork

It can happen to you — or me

A friend is enjoying the benefits of opiates the hard way. unsquished remains so but is less so than he was before. Check the details here. unsquished wants not to die while riding as desperately as I do and bikes with all appropriate attention to circumstances. But even that is not enough some times to avoid the big pink pill.

That has made all the difference

Dear Cycledork:

I see a lot of bicyclists in my area drive on city streets, county roads and highways, which are often busy and have narrow shoulders, when bike trails run alongside the exact same route. Why is that?

Though I am admittedly not an avid bicyclist myself (I log a couple hundred miles a year, tops) I far prefer the safety of recreational trails than being on the road. I understand that trail riding can be limiting for long-distance riders who cover more ground than most bike trails provide, but why not take the trail when it's available? Is it uncool for "serious riders" to be seen on a bike trail?

Sincerely,
Mystified in Minnesota

p.s. I don't mean for this to seem "anti-cyclist" and I do acknowledge bicyclists' right to a share of the road.

Dear Mystified:

No anticyclist vibe inferred and what a great question.

Uncoolness doesn't have much to do with it. Safety does. Speaking for myself, I'll ride in the road instead of on the trail for a couple of reasons, which may boil down to one: I don't want to kill anyone — me included.

At this point I consider myself an experienced rider (+/-10,000 miles all seasons, all hours, all levels of traffic over the past 3 years) who goes faster than most of the traffic on the bike trails around here in North Carolina's Triangle. From my perspective, and I'm guessing the perspective of other experienced riders, riders on the trails are unpredictable. Trail riders, or more fairly, less experienced riders, are more likely to be moving slower than I am and are more likely to stop suddenly or move across the path unexpectedly. If I'm going 20 mph and they're going 12 mph and I fail to anticipate their action the results could be catastrophic.

Here's a sobering thought: drivers are, in most ways, more predictable even if they're assholes. Even though I can't take my eyes off them for a second I have a much, much better idea of what to expect. My guess is the riders you see feel the same way. Another way to put it is that it's a lot easier to ride defensively when it's clear I'm the one who will lose catastrophically.

All of that said, this is one particular school of thought, advocated by groups such as The North Carolina Coalition for Bicycle Driving and inspired by the classic "Bicycle Transportation: A Handbook for Cycling Transportation Engineers" by John Forester. Foresterians eschew segregation of auto and cycling traffic because, as the coalition puts it:

"Bicyclists are drivers of vehicles. Every street is a bicycle facility. Bicyclists have the right to access every destination reachable by public roads, and this right is protected by the traffic laws of every state. North Carolina law specifically defines bicycles as vehicles and assigns bicycle operators all of the rights and duties of drivers of vehicles on roads. Scientific analysis of bicycling practice in the United States shows that bicyclists who behave as drivers of street vehicles and follow the Rules of the Road enjoy travel that is much safer and much more convenient than those who do not."

I'd also like some clarification on your definition of "bike trail." Is it separate from the road? If so, how is it separated? How wide is it? What sort of surface does it have? Do pedestrians use it? Is it one way or two way? The answers to all of these questions would affect my willingness to use it. There is a two-mile stretch of road not far from the my house that has a paved, +/-10-foot wide, two-way bike and pedestrian path along a windy two-lane road. For the reasons stated above, I take the road every time. I'm also grateful to the transportation planners who had the foresight to consider riders such as myself in that stretch of road and mark it with signs with a bike on them that state, "Share the road."

The road does belong to all of us, motorized and otherwise. That said, there are creative ways to share. When I'm in Fort Collins, Colo., for instance, I use the bike lanes that are ubiquitous there. Though strict Foresterians would consider the spinelssness of my concession contemptible, for me it boils down to predictability. Drivers and cyclists there are trained that cyclists will be in the bike lane toward the right of the road on both sides. Drivers know where to look for me and cyclists are not surprised to hear someone call, "on your left."

There are some roads I will not ride on. Ever. At some point I have to acknowledge the hostility the road, its users and designers show toward cyclists and take another route. Even on the roads I will ride on not all drivers, nor all cyclists, are willing to share regardless of schemes for everyone to have a piece. But for me, the best way to show my good faith is make clear to drivers that I only need what I'm using and they can have the rest.

Yours in velophility,

Cycledork

Keeping time

I put my cadence counter back on yesterday. After a slight adjustment this afternoon it was functional again. What it showed was that I pedal like I'm sleeping. In my standard around-town 53x17 gearing I was in the mid 70s. Between knocking it back to 53x19 and being vigilant, I was able to push up to about 90, which is where I wanted to be. The good news: I really have improved on hills. I followed this route and was able to keep my cadence at 80 or above on the two big hills on Old Jenks Road and U.S. 64, respectively. When I saw my cadence drop below 80, I shifted up a gear. Nothing to it. Not only that I completed the whole route in just a hair over two hours.

Now here's something …

You don't see every day: Odd Bikes. Notice that it includes, for instance, the work of total freak Curt DeForest Jr on his BODY RITE thingy as well as a link to the Zero Bike that apparently has no wheel hubs and to Rohloff's 14-speed hub. Not to mention that I now know I need to make a pilgrimage to the Bicycle Museum of America in New Bremen, Ohio. Ah, the wonders just out there for the finding.

Why is the rent on my vent so exorbitant?

We received this question this morning at cycledork central:

Dear Cycledork,
Why do some helmets cost $30 and others cost $200? What's the difference? Aren't they all made of basically the same stuff as a beer cooler?
lady macsquish

Dear lady:
For the same reason that air-conditioning devices range so significantly in price: mass and efficiency. The helmet on the left has 17 comparatively tiny vents and provides all the comfort, in terms of weight and air circulation, of wearing an anvil. The Bell Women’s Bella Sport, now on sale at performancebike.com, costs $22.99. The helmet on the right, a Giro Atmos, has 26 comparatively humongous vents, all of which are larger than the vents on the Bella Sport. It weighs 275 grams, or about 10.5 ounces. Imagine wearing air-conditioned feathers. Plus it offers the same safety as the Bella Sport. The Atmos, now on sale at performancebike.com, goes for $134.99.

Though this is beyond the scope of you question, all of that said, the Bella Sport is the better tool for someone who isn't going to be riding very hard for very long, say no more than 15 mph for an hour or less. For racers or others who are cranking out miles for hours at a time or who feel the need to take every advantage, the cost for comfort or fewer grams becomes worth considering.

And I'm glad you mentioned beer coolers. Beer is close to my heart and never far from my thoughts. It is my hope that bikes and beer is a topic we return to many times in our dogged pursuit of cycling truth.
Yours in velophility,
Cycledork

Ask Cycledork

I have a sweatshirt that says, "There is no thing he does not know." I also have a sister who says I'm mostly full of shit and wife who, more diplomatically, says she's skeptical of some of my explanations. Anyway, the new link above to the right is where I prove the sweatshirt right. Or fake it. Regardless of the views of some loved ones, my lot in life is to dispense knowledge and banish ignorance. So if you've got a cycling question, I've got an answer. Unless inquirers specifically ask for offline responses, all questions will be answered here at Cycledork for everyone to see. Bring 'em on.

I knew this day would come

when I have to worry about the competition. And from my friend at unsquished. Unsquished will likely offer a more intense commuter perspective while readers can expect a wider range of topics here at cycledork. Of course, since I'm not a mind reader, I might just be blowing this out my ass. That means you'll have to read both to know for sure.

It's for the kids

A show of hands via comments please. Who among you walked to your grade school? Rode a bike? Took the bus? Got a ride?

Until I was in sixth grade, I either walked or rode my bike. In sixth grade I either took the bus (sometimes walking a mile uphill in the snow to and from the stop, really), begged my mom for a ride if I missed the bus or realized I was too malaised to attend school. Seventh and eighth grades, back on foot or bike. High school, for this purpose, is lost time (Cheech and Chong were huge during my formative years; I also spent a lot of time getting my face slapped at the back of the bus).

I'm curious about how you loyal few arrived at your educations because Oct. 3 is International Walk to School in the USA" day. Organizers cite three reasons to walk or bike to school: to enhance the health of kids (we're too fat); to improve air quality and the environment (we're too lazy); and to create safer routes for walking and bicycling (we're paving too much and in the wrong places).

Responsibility for this mortifying state of affairs should sit squarely on the shoulders of my generation (I'm 45) and would if we weren't so desperately trying to shirk it. It's our kids who are getting rides (my own once included, though at college she either walks or takes public transportation); we are the ones driving the cars and making the pavement an easy political choice. There's a lot more to this pathology but other sources beside this blog cover are better equipped to discuss the causes more comprehensively.

Of the 38 other countries listed as participating, I wonder in how many of them walking or biking to school is really considered a day worthy of being separated from all others. Along those lines I loathe Mothers and Fathers days. I resent being told I have to show my love to my parents on these single days when I want them to know I love them every day. Same thing here. If walking or riding to school is reduced to a single day, that's all that should be expected: a day, and a day only, when kids walk or ride.

Rant aside, one day is better than no days. Better to cycle or walk on this single day every year than not at all. I'll be happier when it turns into Walk to School week, or even better, month or year. To those of you with kids, get them out of your car Oct. 3. And the day after. And the day after that.

Taco Tool to the rescue

Or at least that's what it used to be called. Anyway, I was glad I had one recently when my handlebars started to slip. What it is is a folding, palm-sized bicycle multitool with a buttload of allen keys, Phillips and standard screwdriver blades, tire levers and chain tool and so much more. So when I noticed my bars dropping, I stopped, unzipped my seat bag, extracted the multitool, tightened the offending allen screws, replaced the taco in the seat bag and roared off. Pedro's, the bike-tool impresario that issued the Taco Tool until at least 2004, now produces an equivalent tool that is shown at right. Get one. It can keep a pain in the ass from being a ride stopper.

Cycletacular posts now photographically enhanced!

Several of the posts from the cycletacular now have pictures. See the view from the Horsetooth overlook, the entrance to Carter Valley Campground, and Rob and Luke, the friends who shared road and mountain bikes (and shoes) up Rist Canyon.

Hygiene

I didn't realize until today that Hygiene sits at a critical junction of the Cycling Riviera. I just thought I'd picked about the perfect destination for a 100K victory ride. Located about 33 miles south of Fort Collins, it's the town that announces that if you keep pedalling you'll soon arrive in Boulder, Colorado's two-wheel Monte Carlo. Even though there are plenty of Litespeeds and high-end Treks up here in Fort Collins, the closer Boulder looms the more Looks and Times and Pinarellos show up. I expect going to a bike shop in Boulder is like scoping the parking lot at the Casino.

I caught a couple of Pinarellos a few miles outside of Hygiene who had been dogging it on the hills. So what if they were on their small rings. That group passed me at a stop light and hammered out the last couple of miles to arrive at a bait store and cycle shop about 30 seconds ahead of me. As I enjoyed my frozen strawberry bar, I noticed hot-shit bikes at every other business, including the grocery store across the street, the coffee shop on another corner and a bike shop across the street from where I stopped. They were beautiful bikes, all heading south and west toward Boulder. My suspicion though is that many of the people on these bikes are posers. The frustrating thing is not being able to recognize the real deal when I see it -- and I'd bet I have.

The ride back to Fort Collins was fast, somewhere around 20 mph. My mission complete, I was glad to get back to my end of the Cote d'Azur. It's also good to know that if I need energy gel and night crawlers in Hygiene, even if can't sort out my fellow shoppers, I know where to go.

Return to Rist Canyon

Two years ago Rist Canyon kicked my ass. It kicked my ass again today but not quite as hard.

Nobody goes into Rist Canyon without wanting to. Rist Canyon ascends about 3,000 feet over about 12 miles. When I got here last week it was not on my intinerary. It was on my avoid-at-all-costs list. I considered returning to Estes Park today (it's hard to spend too much time at the omphalos) but I decided I wanted something closer to Fort Collins. Given the relative ease of the trip to Estes Park (only a few hundred yards on the smaller ring), I thought Rist Canyon would be a worthy, and maybe too much of a, challenge.

When I rode Rist Canyon in 2005 I did nearly the entire ride on the smallest, 30-tooth ring, of the three rings my bike had at the time. I don't have a 30-tooth ring anymore, just a 39- and a 53-, and teeth matter. Basically, the fewer teeth on a ring -- the rings are the things with teeth that pull the chain and to which the pedals are connected -- the easier it is to pedal, just not as far and not as fast as using the bigger rings (to learn more about this, check out sheldonbrown.com).


I used the big ring for the first couple of miles out of Bellvue. By the time I met up with Rob (right) and Luke (guys, if you're reading, let me know if I got the spellings right), I had been on the 39-tooth for a while. What blew my mind about these guys is that they were riding a road bike and a mountain bike. They'd agreed to switch shoes and bikes every two miles. When I met them they were still friends even though they had at least three switches left. I hope they were able to cope, and stay hydrated, after they found the Rist Canyon Volunteer Fire Department locked up tight.

There's no humiliation in taking a breather at any point in Rist Canyon. Look for the flattest uphill spot so it's easier to start once you're ready. I enjoyed the scenery, even when it wasn't scenic, in several locations. And I kept ascending.

Michael Seeberg writes of Rist Canyon in "Road Biking Colorado: The Statewide Guide," "Near the top, you'll ride 12-percent grades!" That exclamation provides only so much excitement when you're the one on that grade. Nevertheless, a mile or so from the top, a woman descending in a vintage Toyota slowed to tell me, "You're almost there!" I hadn't been so heartened since leaving Rob and Luke, or maybe since I got out of bed. Ten minutes later, I was looking at the Mummy Range, 50 miles to the west.

After a few moments I started the descent. Based on the elevations provided in Seeberg's book, it's about 700 feet down in about a mile. My high speed, I think, was over 49 mph (the speedometer, which records a sustained speed, clocked in at 48.6) but I couldn't see well because my eyes were being blown shut. Whatever speed I attained, it occurred while coasting. I braked only lightly until the last quarter mile or so, when I had to squeeze hard to avoid going into the traffic on Stove Prairie Road.

I broke 40 several times on Stove Prairie and might have been able to approach 50 except for the cattle guards (it's open range -- no livestock fencing -- for several miles), which were a real buzzkill.

My reward, beside the experience: the last popsicle at Carter Valley Campground.

Why can't I do this at home?

Today I rode to Estes Park. All in all, it was about 25 miles up, 25 miles down and 45 miles rolling or flattish. And I rode it a lot harder, especially up, than last year. So here's my question, especially for any of you folks who know anything about conditioning: why is it that my last two rides of similar distance in North Carolina nearly left me for dead but I returned from this one fresh as a daisy? No doubt it is cooler and less humid here. I'm guessing that the weather helps keep me hydrated. Stopping for lunch (two slices of pizza and iced tea) probably didn't hurt either. But I don't get it. Let me hear your ideas.

By the way, I took U.S. 34 both ways. The high speed was just a hair under 39 mph. I did hit 45 mph yesterday coming down from Horsetooth. There was a lot of traffic and wind in the canyon today. The wind helped me on the way up and slowed me on the way down. I also learned that it's really not so bad to hug a granite wall in a two-foot wide patch of gravel when a semi is passing me on a curve.

Popsicle flavor of the day at Carter Valley Campground: tropical blend. There's one left in that box and I'm hoping it lasts long enough for me to get it.

Fort Collins: bubble town of the Bicycle-Friendly death wish

It's no surprise that a city with great bike facilities has lots -- shitloads actually -- of people who use them. Right on and in a huge way. Nevertheless, it blows my mind how utterly oblivious the huge majority of those riders are to risk. I announce my dorkishness, for instance, by being part of the minority who wear a helmet. Earphones and -buds are ubiquitous. Road signs are for chumps. Forget about any indication of directional change. Riding time is the perfect time for that involved phone chat. No need to watch traffic, including other riders, since bicycles here apparently operate in protective bubbles (not mentioned in the Bicycle Friendly Community commendation). Local authorities must not have been alerted to my arrival as my bubble hasn't shown up yet.

Confession time: I do not stop at every stop sign and I don't signal every time I'm required to. But I do slow down at every intersection and I do look. And I avoid not stopping when a car is approaching my bike perpendicularly.

I understand that many of the riders I see are older adolescents and young adults who are still invulnerable. But they do things on bicycles that even they would be embarrassed to do in a car (see above). I also understand that age does not necessarily confer maturity or judgment, yet it's not just the bezillion college students who remove their brains whenever they ride. It's people approaching my advanced age who are old enough to know they have something to lose.

Don't get me wrong: it is too cool that bikes are so heavily used here and catered to. The bike racks in my mom's apartment complex are jam packed. How great would it be for every place to embrace cycling so thoroughly, especially if riders reciprocated in a way that didn't make me worry about killing them.

Carter Valley Campground

I stop at this campground every time I go over Horsetooth. It's about 45 minutes southwest of the overlook above the reservoir, so it's perfectly situated as a rest stop. The office was closed Sunday so today was my first time in this year. What I appreciate most is the welcome I get. The proprietors greet me cheerfully whether I spend 50 cents or $50. On Sunday, a few miles to the north in Masonville, the owner of an "antique" shop told me to buy my beverage out of the machine outside instead of the cooler inside (I heard some really funny stories when I was a kid about vendors who make their own antiques). When I bought my mango popsicle(!) at the campground today, the owner told me where I could wash up and fill my water bottles -- for free. To boot, the men's room was surgically sterile. Not that I plan or want to perform surgery but it's nice to know it's there if I need it. If you're ever riding your bike on Larimer County Road 29 or driving your RV west of Loveland, stop here and spend money.

One other thing. At 4:44 p.m. EST, someone in Cary was my 1,000th visitor. I can tell that by looking at data provided by sitemeter. Thanks for reading.

The Lyons traverse

For all the mileage I get out of telling my North Carolina friends about how every ride out here is uphill balanced on the edge of an abyss, I'll confess immediately that was not the case today. In fact, today's ride from Fort Collins to Lyons was more or less flat. Really. Flatter than most of the rides I take around Wake and Chatham counties.

Not only that, the ride was a success. I wanted to see if I could make the trip without getting on U.S. 287, one of the main arteries connecting cities up and down the Front Range. County roads -- paved all the way -- got me south from Fort Collins to Colorado 66 (about 33 miles) through ranch and farm country. Lyons is about five miles farther west. I was particularly concerned that paved roads would turn to dirt once I left Larimer County and entered Boulder County.

Lyons is a strategic key because it's at the bottom of one of the mountain roads (abysses included), U.S. 36, that leads to Estes Park. Estes Park is about 20 miles northwest of Lyons. My big ride for this trip will be from Fort Collins west to Estes Park up U.S. 34 (another mountain road) and returning via Lyons instead of just turning around. I am still mulling the route because 1) U.S. 34 is a beautiful road both for its scenery and pavement, 2) I know every turn in it and 3) it offers the best opportunity for the entire cycletacular to break 50 mph (on the descent). Weather forecasts have me thinking Thursday or Friday will be the day, so I have several days to decide.

Horsetooth and points south and east are the likely destinations for tomorrow's chapter of the cycletacular. It should be similar to Sunday but include real climbing. Since it won't be a survival or reconnaissance ride, I may see if I can add some speed.

The Horsetooth kickoff or triumph on the big ring

It was an auspicious start for the cycletacular. No riding trip to Colorado can start correctly for this obsessive compulsive without going over Horsetooth Reservoir first. Horsetooth is about five miles from my mom's apartment and about 500 feet above it. The 500 feet occur over 7/10 of a mile. Then after a couple of miles down, another climb to the overlook. After one last descent, one last ascent. Then rollers for several miles meandering south. Anyway, the first time I rode this route two years ago I went over the reservoir and associated hills in my smallest gear (30/25) and wanted an even smaller one. Last year I badassed it and went over in the middle ring. This year it was the big ring, all 53 teeth of it, and my 21-tooth cog. Going 11 mph up the first hill was as good as going 50 mph. The pain breathing would be too much of a pain in the ass to describe. The other 50 miles were cake and included a foray into Berthoud, which I had skirted around previously. I have been to Berthoud before but only to experience an Estes Park Bobcat athletic team have its ass handed to it. This was better. Anyway, among the interesting things I saw along the route was a dead skunk in the middle of the road. Much to my surprise it did not stink to high heaven.

Yesterday, of course, was still part of the cycletacular even though it was spent off the bike. We went to Campion to determine the composition of County Line Road (the counties are Larimer and Weld; it is dirt) for possible inclusion in the Fort Collins-Lyons transit. Following the reconnaissance, we stopped by Lee's Cyclery for supplies (tube, CO2, gel, seat bag). Once outfitted I was ready to roll this morning. Many of you know that I do not take my gels for granted. Yesterday I picked up a new brand: Hammer. This is the shit (speaking metaphorically). The tropical flavor actually tasted sort of mangoish without the chalky pastiness that I've come to expect> Tomorrow's flavor is orange. Oh boy.

I wrote in the first cycletacular post that maps and pictures were coming. That's easier for me to promise on a Mac than on a PC. For some reason my Veloroutes maps won't save from this computer and Googlemaps requires too much mind reading on any machine. However, pictures should be forthcoming assuming the PC has something to interpret that type of data once I use up the disposable cameras I bought. My hope is still to provide you with stimulation beyond my prose.

Tomorrow's destination: it looks like Lyons.

Cycledork's annual Colorado cycletacular!

Yes, readers, it's that time again. Believe me, waiting a year was harder on me than it was on you. The bike and I arrived in Denver this morning and will be here in Fort Collins until Sept. 2. It's about 25 degrees cooler here than in the Triangle with about zip humidity. There are significant differences in the view as well.

After acclimating today and tomorrow we hit the road Sunday. That'll be the kickoff of seven cycling-, mileage-filled days. Though some routes are already planned (and in some cases mapped), questions remaining for the week include whether I can get it 500 miles. Daily posts, though, will reveal answers. Meanwhile I need to get a disposable camera (having forgotten the scientist's) so that I can accumulate visual evidence.

Cycle North Carolina

That's the name of an annual ride across the state and not necessarily a command. The ride, affiliated with Relay for Life and the American Cancer Society, fundraiser for starts in West Jefferson and ends at Currituck-Knotts Island. Depending on the exact route taken, the distance ranges from 380 to 495 from Sept. 29 to Oct. 6. Other stops, from west to east, includie Elkin, Greensboro, Mebane, Louisburg, Roanoke Rapids and Edenton. According to the literature I received, the support for this ride will make the Jimmy V folks seem like pikers. I don't think I'll be doing the entire distance this year but at some point, and I hope sooner instead of later, this is on the the to-do list. However, registration is available for the stages so getting in a day (Greensboro-Mebane? Mebane-Louisburg?) is a very possible possibility for this fall.

The limit?

Did an English century today (beware — crappy map). I was able to execute my strategy as if I had planned it: find a group of riders doing the 100 miles, grab on to a wheel and let them pull me along. At about 20 miles the ride split: 50- and 75-mile riders left, 100-mile (it actually clocked in at +/-95) riders right. A group of five quickly caught a group of eight. The octet rode together for 10-15 miles. Just about the perfect size. Seven people could draft and the guy pulling on the front only had to go three to six minutes. Higher speed and energy conservation at the same time — a hard deal to beat. The group started to break up at the first rest stop. One guy rode on; two others stayed behind. Between the first and third rest stops (we skipped the second) a guy dropped off but we caught the guy who rode on. He kept going at the third rest stop, never to be seen again. Still, on flat or rolling terrain, the group of four stuck together thanks in large part to the generosity of the two strongest riders. At the fourth stop, rider No. 4 said he would probably drop off. I was bushed but managed to stay in contact with with the front two for about five more miles. Once we hit downtown Fuquay-Varina, though, there was no use maintaining the charade. the front two pulled away for the last time though they remained in sight for several more miles. The hardest part for the group was on downhill-uphill sections, which tend to pull groups apart and make them hard to put back together.

I crawled back to the parking lot of the Koka Booth Amphitheatre at Regency Park. I point out with some pride that I was not last and it wasn't even close. Based on my experience of Aug. 4, today and several other 80-plus-mile rides, 90 miles may be around my limit. Several of those rides have been solo efforts. I suspect that the group rides have just started too fast over the first 50 miles or so for me to have anything left at the end. Some of you may know that I have fantasies of riding across the United States. If my assessment is accurate, it will have a significant effect on how long the ride would take.

One more thing: this was the Jimmy V Ride for Research. It is the Cadillac of charity rides I've been on with four well stocked rest stops and sag support the entire way. Think what you want about Jim Valvano as a basketball coach and human being, but the foundation has raised buttloads of money for cancer research from, well, schmos like me. And as I said, they put on a hell of a ride.

Cycle soap

I've spent portions of the last several evenings enjoying The Bicyclist. The Bicyclist is the story of Conrad, who has moved from Wisconsin to Portland, Ore., to find life and perhaps love (or maybe just sex) in a bicycle shop. The 13+ episodes so far run from 90 seconds or so to more than six minutes. Neither Conrad nor his associates would have anything to do with cycledork, who is too old, too spandexed and way too unbeautiful to make their scene. That said, The Bicyclist is must see for anyone who enjoys depictions of young-adult drinking, male sexual competition and bike jousting.

C'dork's Saturday cycling tip: one way not to die

Ride long enough and it will happen: pedalling along, minding your own business as well as that of the surrounding traffic, as you approach an intersection or junction the car behind you passes so it can immediately turn right in front of you. Well, even if it doesn't happen to you, it happened to me this morning. It's probably the fourth or fifth time someone's done it to me over the last three years.

How I deal with it: First of all, I watch the road, see where I'm going and where the opportunities for automotive mischief — intersections, side roads, potholes, suddenly ending shoulders and so on — are. At the same time, I'm keeping an eye on oncoming traffic and an ear out for cars behind me. This morning I could smell that the car on my ass would pass and turn on to the upcoming side road. Though I slowed slightly I had to maintain some momentum since I was on a slight grade. With about about 150 feet or so to the junction, she passed. Since I expected it I braked and stopped, let traffic pass and got going again. One more thing I would have done, had I really been thinking, was downshift one or two gears to make restarting on the rise a little easier.

In some situations there will be even less space and less time to react. What cycling safety folks advise in such cases is to turn right on the inside of the car. I had just enough distance and shoulder that I didn't need to even though I considered it. Keep in mind it's a move that's probably hard as hell to rehearse. Just be ready.

Upshot: the driver's body language indicated an appropriate level of embarrassment and I didn't get flattened. Though not optimal the result is acceptable.

The end of the world

May be west of Clayton on N.C. 42. Loyal reader htrouser did warn me of this likelihood even though he was not specific about where. The Tour de Wake went fine for the first 60 miles or so into Wendell, where my navigation started to falter. Even with a cue sheet I still had to know the secret names of the streets that turned into the roads I needed to be on. I also didn't help myself by not studying carefully enough to confirm the route around Clayton. Instead I took the long way through town, twice, before learning the identity of the secret street. By this time I had probably added 15 unneeded miles. When I finally got out of Clayton it seemed for one of the few times when I've been on a bike that the road was getting longer instead of shorter. So when I got to the intersection of I-40 and N.C. 42 after 87.8 miles with the prospect of 40 more to go in 95-degree heat, I decided sense was in order and I called the college student. She was prompt so I didn't tax the patience of the gas-station employee who was kind enough to let me wait inside.

There are several lessons to learn from this, the first time I have ever bailed on a ride. O the ignominy. First, know the route. Second, eat adequately before leaving. No matter how well the fluids are laid in — I had about a gallon with me and I replenished every 15 to 20 miles — the body still needs some calories to work with. Third, when it's that hot, leaving earlier is better. The original idea had been to leave around 8 a.m.; instead I hit the road about 10:22 a.m. Mistake. Fourth, consider the distance-temperature tradeoff. Even five degrees would have made the attempt easier.

Cycledork remains convinced that it is possible to complete the circumnavigation of Wake County. I believe the gap in N.C. 42 between I-40 and N.C. 50 can be filled and that I will succeed. Of course, if I fall off the edge, I will never be heard from again.

Cynical idealism or idealistic cynicism?

Friends and acquaintances, knowing that I love competition of any sort (I once played Scrabble for three days for a teriyaki beef stick; one of my sisters took it but only after a loud discussion of what actually constituted victory), ask me how I feel about the Tour de France and cycling generally and the role that performance-enhancing drugs appear to play.

Depending on how you look at it I'm either a cynical idealist or an idealistic cynic. My instinct is that nearly all of them dope. On the other hand their skill is so far beyond mine, doped or not, that doping 1) probably doesn't mean much when comparing Tour riders to everyone else 2) probably doesn't mean much when comparing Tour riders to each other, since they're all doing it. I'm not sure what this means except that they're all light years better than I am or anyone I know is; at that level how much better do you really have to be?

Anyway, I've veered dangerously into murkiness. If I'll spend three days playing Scrabble for a 75-cent prize, it's probably no surprise I follow a number of professional sports very closely, and none closer than Major League Baseball. This article does a great job of pointing out that Americans having a good laugh at the expense of the Tour might be able to find their amusement elsewhere. I also wish more domestic sports fans could get a grip on the role of PEDs on their pastimes. Who knows how Scrabble would be different without them.

Northeast reconnaissance

I've threatened for months that I plan to circumnavigate Wake County. For years the southern and western routes have been clear. Today I rode most of the northern portion. Though I have no map to offer at the moment, I can say that I followed the northeast border of Umstead State Park along the remarkably crappy Ebenezer Church Road for a crucial portion of the route. Even in its remarkable crappiness — mostly because it desperately needs resurfacing — I could manage the other traffic. Shoulders on the other roads were at least good with decent sight lines too. I made it to Six Forks Road, which was my plan unless I decided to go farther. A few miles to the south, Six Forks is an Amazon of traffic flow. Where I need to catch it to go north before going east toward Wake Forest, it is a tranquil country stream. The rest of the route from Wake Forest seems obvious: south on N.C. 96 to N.C. 42 into the dark heart of Johnston County, west on 42 out toward Moncure and routes northward into the extremes of Chatham and Wake counties before heading east toward home. With today's link under my belt, the circumnavigation could be next weekend. Or maybe later. Stay tuned.

Hangin' with the Bs

Well sort of. Most of the people on this ride — The Spin Cycle B ride, advertised as between 17 and 19 mph — wouldn't have had any trouble on last night's ride. Maybe they just wanted to relax by going at A pace for most of the night. But it was a much more enjoyable group experience than last night. Some shaved legs, lots of hairy legs. A range of frame materials. Smaller percentage of team kits. And much more open. Huge thanks to Mike, who, when I told him I was new to group riding, told me what to do for 25 miles. Some of it I understood, some I didn't. I have no idea if I'm educable or not. Anyway, the rest of the group was willing to let me grab a wheel even though I never pulled. I'm optimistic that if I show up Tuesday I won't be asked to leave.

The A ride

Dropped like a hot sack of cat shit. Smoked like a spliff of Rastaman ganja.

Most bike stores, including the The Spin Cycle, offer a variety of group rides, with skill levels ranging from the slowest at C to the fastest at A. My plan was to go on Tuesday's B ride, but the significant threat of rain — it was dripping on my ride home — kept me in. I figured what the hell, I'll try the Wednesday A ride. And after nine bikeless days and the last two with only my commute, I was itching for some miles.

Of the 12 or 15 riders who showed, I was one of two with a metal frame; among the minority with unshaved legs and not wearing a team kit; and the only one with a visored helmet and unmatched tires. I knew I didn't fit; the reception I got made it clear they knew it too.

My plan, even before I arrived, was that I would hope to draft someone as far as it would get me and when I got dropped make my own route instead of working to find the group. The plan worked for about 10 miles. Me and another guy got left behind on a long descent. It was like watching the Millenium Falcon engage the hyperdrive. The other guy did everything he could to outrun me and not acknowledge me. I'd give him room and then I'd reel him back in. That happened a few times. Anyway, we rode in proximity to each other for about five more miles before I let him go. He was thoughtful enough to indicate he was turning south.

I turned north and took a quick route back to The Spin Cycle. Austin, the one guy who did talk to me, was still packing his bike when I got there. He asked how my ride was and I told him OK — after all, I did get nearly 40 miles in and went really fast for parts of it. I also said that I knew I got dropped because I was too polite. Instead of holding back while the bikes in front of me coasted part way down the aforementioned hill, I should have gone into the middle of them and maintained my draft. I might have gotten dropped later but it would have gotten me through that point. Austin agreed.

The plan for Tuesdays and Thursdays for the forseeable future is to kick ass on the B ride until I'm sure I need more of a challenge. Then we'll see what happens.

The Firecracker and more

Today was the 15th Firecracker Ride. This annual 50k and 100k event, sponsored by The Spin Cycle, is one of my favorite rides. Soemthing cool happens every year. Today was my third Firecracker. In 2005 I met cyclebuddy, still one of my favorite guys to ride with when we can both find time. Last year I was able to hop from group to group and wheel to wheel and thus go fast without expending a lot of energy.

This year I ran into a professional contact of mine at the first rest stop. He invited me to ride with his group, which included a guy that I met on my smokin' ride on Sunday. What a blast. They were good folks interested in hauling ass on the road and kicking back at rest stops. The best part is I have a standing invitation to join them on their regular Saturday and Sunday rides. I did try to talk up The Electra Challenge but didn't seem to find many takers.

Having spent the morning drafting behind these fine folks, I decided I wasn't done. I came home, had some water, filled my tires and then went out to complete an imperial century for the day. The bike is parked after 103.5 miles.

Twenty miles in less than an hour

In fact, 20 miles in a few ticks less than 59 minutes. To make the most of this shamelss bragfest, I'll add that I averaged 20 mph for more than 28 miles. Then I coasted home the remaining 27 miles. I'll leave it to you to check the provided link showing the route to judge if the chest beating is justified.

The mystery of the black Pearls

Some readers may remember my rant regarding Pearl Izumi products. A particular sore point was the chamois brand on my ass left by a pair of PI shorts. I swore months ago the offending shorts would go through the shredder. Instead they were exiled to the chair next to my dresser that serves as a clothing-storage annex. Today, I pressed the shorts into service for a 40 miler. It was a great ride and comfortable too. There's a hint of a seam on my thigh but nothing like what I got over the winter. Perhaps my judgment was too harsh or maybe I'm not as tender as I used to be.

Goo to the last drop

For Christmas my daughter gave me some single-serving sports-energy concoctions. The virtue of these products is that they are meant to replace minerals and nutrients lost during strenuous exercise while being extremely portable. My rule of thumb, depending on the situation, has become one tube every 15 or 20 miles with water. Whether it's crap or not I do feel perkier in a hurry.

Specifically the individual portions from Christmas were of GU Energy Gel (Just Plain flavored), Jelly Belly Sport Beans (orange) and a PowerBar triple threat energy bar (Caramel Peanut Fusion). I was skeptical but these were gifts given in love so why not?

I tried the GU first and was impressed that the flavor lived up to its description, just the tiniest hint of vanilla or banana or both.

Next were the Sport Beans. Think Tang-tasting texturized chewy chalk. Not something I would choose for myself but still interesting in a mildly provocative way.

The PowerBar had all the appeal of sweetened sawdust that's supposed to be good for you.

Bottom line on those three: the GU is a clearly labeled, no bullshit product. One tube, one serving. The package says each serving provides 100 calories, 2 percent of the daily value of sodium, 1 percent of potassium, 2 percent calcium and 100 percent each of vitamins C and E. The beans sported a similar range of nutrients but generally lower percentages. It turns out the PowerBar is loaded with nutrients and leaves the GU and Sport Beans in its sawdust in that regard. It's also in the largest package and the messiest to eat.

So I learned I could buy into, and buy, gooish, products. So over several months of trips to The Spin Cycle and Performance Bike, I picked up tubes of PowerBar Gel (tangerine), Carb Boom! Energy Gel (strawberry kiwi), Accel Gel Protein Powered Sports Energy, Clif Shot Energy Gel (strawberry) and Clif Shot Bloks (lemon lime). All have about the same nutrient levels although the PowerBar gel comes with various levels of sodium and caffeine.

Carb Boom! is nasty, as is the Clif Shot gel. They had chemically induced strawberry flavors only in the same sense that Ovaltine is supposed to be chocolate but is really spinach-flavored dog turd.

The Accel Gel left no impression. All I can say is that it was gooey and sticky.

The Clif Shot Bloks were like high-energy Jell-o shots but they did not make me want to dance on tables. I was also sort of freaked out that they have the same consistency after an hour in a cycling jersey as they do at room temperature.

The PowerBar gel is everything the energy bar wasn't. Though not nearly as nutrient rich it actually offers flavor that to some could resemble tangerine in a small package.

At $1.40 a pop, I try to use my goo strategically, saving it for occasions when I'm going to work really hard or when I'm going a long way (50 miles or more). Since it's hot today and I want to go about 65 miles I'll have two or three with me.

Another anniversary boils down to miles

This may be the one that matters most to me. June 14 was one year since tropical storm Alberto, the last day I didn't ride my bike to work. So today marks a year and a day that I've pedaled to work. Rain, heat, ice, ennui, I've two wheeled to work and back. I celebrated by riding to meet a couple of buddies for lunch at my favorite out-of-the-way smoky dive that, alas, is becoming less smoky and less out of the way. The good news, as I can stretch it, is that I was able to get my per day miles for the month past 10. I also had two ass-kicking beers at home tonight, partly for celebratory purposes — Left Hand Imperial Stout and Duck Rabbit Rabid Duck Imperial Stout. I just hope the weather holds for this weekend — screw next weekend, I'll be in St. Louis. Four hundred plus miles for June would be nice.

Accounting for 4278.7

Put on your helmet, grit your teeth and get ready for a rush like few you can have. It's time to crunch numbers. It may offer all of the excitement of, well, accounting.
Today's as good a day as any to share the distances of cycledork. On June 10, 2006 I bought a new bike computer, a Mavic Wintech FS. In the year since I've racked up the miles enumerated in the title of this post. That total also includes the mountain bike miles I've cranked out. So, to rateify the number:
• 357 miles per month
• 82 miles per week
• 11.7 miles per day
Over that time there have been at least five complete weeks when I did not get on a bike.

In 2007 I've pedaled 1,819 miles. Rateified, that's:
• 343 miles per month
• 79 miles per week
• 11.3 miles per day
There was one week I was off all bikes, another week the Trek 2100 was in the shop and several weekends I could have been riding but did not.

Where is all this going? My goal for the year is to ride 5,000 miles. I'm 392 miles behind pace, or about 17 miles per week. Basically I need three 550-mile months to get back on track. I'm hoping to catch up over the summer but I already know of one entire week and another four-day period including a weekend between now and August when I will be bikeless.

As for the previous computer, a Garmin 301? In April 2006 it flew out of its handlebar mount in the center of a major intersection. As soon as I realized what I happened I dropped my bike on the side of the road and ran back just in time to see it get run over. I continued running, into traffic, to retrieve it anyway. Trust me, it was cool enough to risk death for.

The good news for you is that even I monitor all this minutia every day, I only plan to victimize others with the complete overview once a year. Be warned that there will be periodic but undetailed progress reports. Be grateful. My family has said since I was a kid that the most hideous torture they could think of was to be tied to a chair and have me recite facts, particularly statistics, that I considered of interest. I will try to not keep you in the chair very long.

C'dork helping dorks

I was reading through one of my listservs this afternoon when I saw an e-mail from an unfortunate who wants to ride his mountain bike across the United States. Even though I have a fairly concrete plan for a cross-country ride, the thought of doing it on a mountain bike makes me want to take a nap. Anyway, another reader suggested the site warmshowers.org for our plucky mountain biker. My thought when I saw the URL was the same as yours but it wasn't what I thought or feared. There's no euphemism for a particular kink involved but more a direct question: if you wanted to ride your bike across the country and wanted a hot shower along the way, would you be willing to offer the same? After a brief talk with the scientist I decided yes. We'll see if anyone ever gets in touch with us.

the offroad less traveled

My friends at The Spin Cycle are replacing the bottom bracket and truing the wheels on the Trek 2100. I hope to have it back for the weekend. In the meantime I've been riding my wife's antediluvian Nishiki Backroads mountain bike for which, outrageously, there is no image available. It's treated me well for the 10 miles per day I've been riding it. I pick shorter, flatter routes to get to work and around town than on the 2100. Though I make elaborate plans to avoid hills, I'm impressed by how quickly it spins up the inclines I can't avoid. To say nothing of its stability. Riding on giant tires is a lot like riding on tank treads.

No longer alone

There's another bicycle commuter at work. He promised before he left for his wedding that he would start riding after he got back from his honeymoon. To his immeasurable credit, he's pedalled in the last two days since his return. He may not do it every day, much less to meet every work obligation, but it's a thrill to see more rather than fewer riders. I'm also impressed that he comes in on a GT Palomar, a model I also own, though his is several years newer. You rock, colleague.

A long way to pedal

I picked up this link from Harrison, my transportation planner buddy. My second year as a commuter may have started this morning but some roads go on forever. Thoughts of cycling in the Northwest often leave me drooling and whoozy, but the article clarifies that we ignorant Americans have miles to ride before we're truly cycling friendly.

My red badge

I was surprised to end up with a red arm band at the Ride of Silence tonight. When I arrived at the sign-in table, the woman asked if I'd ever been hurt on a bike. I'm pretty sure I responded with a mumbled "gurf?"

She asked again, "have you ever been hit by a car?"

"Yeah, but I was 12. It was more than 30 years ago."

"You get a red arm band," she said as she tied it around my left biceps.

I noticed that nearly every one else had a black one.

I pulled my bike to the back of the line. The people next to me told me riders with red bands were supposed to go to the front. I said I was happy where I was.

My justification, which I summarized for them even more briefly, was that it was an accident caused by me exercising the judgment of a harried, distracted 12-year-old. I was late for school and I almost avoided being perpendicular to the car. He clipped the back wheel. The driver stopped and I popped up and apologized. I hope he still doesn't have nightmares. My bike was slightly bent but I still rode to school. When I got home I'm pretty sure I stashed the 10-speed in the basement. Since I rode some days and walked others I don't think loyalty to walking was noticed from that time forward. And when you're 12 and late for school and you know that you dashed out in front of the car, that you got hit is the sort of thing you might neglect mentioning to your mom, especially when you can pedal away.

The ride tonight was good. I never ride that slowly — in places 7 mph — but it felt nice to be in a low, low gear spinning behind the other 86 riders. The five miles took about 35 or 40 minutes. Befitting its name, the ride through Research Triangle Park and east Durham was very quiet.

The ride home was in some ways better. I pulled Patrick, who was riding a folding bike, south along Davis Drive from RTP to Morrisville. What impressed me was that on a folding bike he could stay close enough that there was pulling to be done. One of the things I got from Patrick was perspective about red bands. He asked about my red band and then told me about his. He got whacked by a car probably about 20 years ago and landed on his head but everyone was able to walk away. He didn't realize until later he had a separated shoulder. But that's not why he was on the ride. He told me he rode because of a guy named Al Johnson, who made the ride with us tonight. Al damn near died after a bike wreck in Virginia some time ago that included weeks in ICU and, not suprisingly, months off the bike. Even though I never, ever want anyone to clip my back wheel again — or to cause it — I think it's understandable that I'm glad not to be Al. And I don't ever want to be. Let's just hope I can size up a situation better at 44 than at 12.

Six months of cycledork — and a year of commuting

Tomorrow will be six months since cycledork generated the first message about socks on fire.

More memorable for the 'dork is that today marks one year of bicycle commuting. What a great fuckin' year, all +/- 4,000 miles of it. I've missed two days cycling to work: May 19, 2006 because of a flat tire and June 14, 2006 because of inadequate preparation for Tropical Storm Alberto. I'm now prepared for either of those situations not to mention many, many more. Here's to all the miles in front of me — and you. See you on the road.

Ride of Silence

occurs every year during Bike to Work Week to remember cyclists killed or injured while riding. The Triangle ride is tomorrow, May 16 at 7 p.m. in RTP. Even though I find the concept a little melodramatic — trust me, I am aware every day that cyclists die or are hurt on the road — I plan on being there. Another purpose of the ride is to remind all of us that we share the road. I'm happy to add to the strength in numbers to underscore that reminder. A few more miles will be good for me anyway.

It's bike to work week

Not just for me but for everybody. All week, May 14 through May 18. So go put some air in your tires and get pedalling. This means you.

Black coffee on bike

Nothing comes between me and my coffee in the morning. And don't try. The black gold is essential to my precommute ritual. The good news, at least in this case, is that you can take it with you. bicyclecoffeesystems specializes in helping cyclists keep the coffee flowing out of the kitchen and during the ride. Even more heartening is learning that some people take their coffee even more seriously than I do.

Welcome friend

My buddy who runs Peripheral Vision probably knows about as much about cycling as I do about photography. On the other hand, Cycledork can say much more certainly that I know much less about cycling than Peripheral Vision knows about photography. I am equally as confident the gap will not close any time soon. If you want to learn about pictures and how the pros take them check out this site, which is included in "Where the 'dork pedals" on the right side of the screen. If we're lucky maybe we'll see some bike shots on the site.

Not just more mapping software

Yeah, veloroutes looks like googlemaps adapted for cycling. That is what it is — and so much easier to use. It is truly point-and-click software. For instance, check out this map for how I get started every day. It probably took me five minutes, if that long. There's probably a lot it can do with it that I haven't figured out, as well as a lot it can't do that I don't realize yet. For now I'm convinced it's the real deal.

Cycledork is impressed

Even if this is complete bullshit. And that aroma may not be what I think it is if this guy has done the Race Across America eight times. Thanks to the Gears 4 Beersnewsgroup for keeping me posted. My guess is I'm closing in on 1 percent of the amount Danny claims.

Drum beats …

for Bike to Work Week are already audible. The annual big event for cycle commuters is May 14 through May 18. If you live in western Wake County, one of The Cary News reporters is planning a victory ride (victory over what I'm not sure) and inviting anyone who wants to join him to go. I'll be going since the long route looks good. Maybe I can find out about the victory too.

All cycling roads start in Davis

Every person in this country who rides a bicycle should pray — or at least generate a positive thought — toward Davis, Calif. five times a day. When it comes to cycling, this university town of about 65,000 is in its own universe. A lot of what is still considered progressive or radical cycling facilitywise in many places has been part of the landscape in Davis for decades. It introduced the bike lane to America while Lyndon Johnson was president. More than one-sixth of all trips in Davis are made by bike. There are no school buses in Davis because kids ride bikes to school. Davis is the only city in the United States to be named a platinum-level Bicycle Friendly City. But Davis sees challenges to and opportunities for its cycling supremacy, as this article points out. Thanks to Harrison Marshall, transportation planner and planning news aggregator extraordinaire, for the link.

Sheldon Brown shows how…

to fold a tire. One of those things any of us could have figured out but didn't. Now watch the master make a tire the right size for a backpack or pannier. And even though you can only catch glimpses of it, be sure to admire Brown's beard.

Cycledork says …

If you wear headphones when you cycle, you're a fuckin' moron. I've seen two riders since Sunday, including one this afternoon, with their ears covered. Numbskulls. Sensewise, hearing is a very close second to seeing when it comes to bike safety (I rank touch, smell and taste as 3, 4 and 5, respectively). I love my iPod probably even more than the next guy, but I also love knowing that a vehicle is approaching. And that the sounds from the engine, tires and exhaust tell me if it's a motorcycle or a semi. Wearing headphones is stupider than not wearing a helmet. At least if you're dumb enough not to wear a helmet, you have all of your senses working for you. Sort of, anyway. With headphones, you have chosen to ignore key sensory stimuli. For me, I would so much rather that the wages of ignorance are not death. And that can be the payoff when you can't hear the truck coming.

Dorkariffic

This probably won't be the last post with this title but it certainly deserves to be the first. I may not be posting as often as I should but I tirelessly search for worthy material. An enormous shitlode was waiting for me at rec.bicycles.tech: online power calculators! Rapturous transports!

Use the following sites in good health: Bicycle Speed and Power Calculator, QCW Velocity Predictor, Analytic Cycling, Sport and Performance and White Mountain Wheels.

Calculators like these beg to be played with. We'll be learning about these number grinders together. If any of them turn out to suck, tell me. Likewise cycledorks want to know if any of them reveal that you're the second coming of Jacques Anquetil. At least then I'll know not to make any additional friendly wagers on The Electra Challenge.

Ride season is upon us

as if you hadn't guessed. Lots of shops and clubs have a variety of rides but here's what the fine folks at The Spin Cycle are pedalling. Group rides are a great way to learn cycling etiquette and occasionally meet people who are good companions for other rides or for hanging out with. Even if you don't get out on a group ride just get out. You'll be glad you did.

League gets ass in gear

I never got a reply to my e-mail to the League of American Bicyclists (as memorialized here) but apparently our friends there got a clue and figured out that they had bungled form letter they had provided so cyclists and others could nag their U.S. senators and representatives to support a change in tax law that could benefit cycling commuters and our employers. The league has since corrected its letter and reposted it. If you are so motivated click here and tell our legislators you a share of what's ours. Hooray for the league — and I'm sincere in my thanks for a nifty, legislator-customizable, online form letter — but two weeks to change it to include the right bill numbers?

The $1,000 — or less — question

A friend of mine e-mailed me the other day, told me he expected to come into some spare cash and was considering buying, among other things, a road bike and accoutrements. Below is the gist of my response. Courtesies not included in the original but provided here were implied. Because I have too much time on my hands, I'll probably follow this with my $1,500 and $2,500 recommendations over the next several days.

Dear Esteemed Friend:

I love e-mails like this. A monkey would be really, really cool but a road bike will never throw shit at you and then laugh. If you got a hovercraft or time machine, however, there'd be no point buying a road bike. I'd take either one (time machine first, hovercraft second) instead of a kickass road bike.

Back to the assumption that a road bike is your first choice. Here are my choices, in order of manufacturer's recommended sale price: Giant OCR3 ($650), KHS Flite 300 ($689), Specialized Allez Triple ($710), Cannondale R400 Triple ($779.99) and Trek 1200 ($849.99). Any of these bikes will get you to your local landmark and back and feeling badass to boot. Common advantages are triple chainrings (the big cogs in front, and triples are a whole lot easier to to ride uphill when you're learning to ride a road bike uphill) and carbon forks (which take a lot of the sting out of riding over potholes and other irregularities). Common disadvantages are that you have to relearn how to shift (shift from bigger rings to smaller on the front as you're hitting the bottom of a hill and your chain is loose instead of waiting until the middle of the uphill when the chain is tight) and the seat (saddle) is a piece of shit not suitable to any ride more than 40 miles (this bears no relation to the sense of badassedness you should feel at the end of your ride).

I derived these recommendations from recollection bolstered by information garnered from www.roadbikereview.com. I knew which models I had in mind but the Web site gave me the specifics I wanted. My search was for road bikes costing between 0 and $1,000. More than half the bikes meeting those criteria had no price and are expensive as shit if you're serious about owning one.

Do purchase the bike at your favorite independent local bike shop (which will carry some but not all of the brands and models I've identified above). When the doing the deal see if you can get the bike shop to throw in some clipless pedals beside the crappo pair the bike comes with.

If they throw in the pedals, that means you'll need shoes. Clipless pedals are worthwhile because they allow you to go some much faster. So much more of the energy from your leg pushing down on one side and pulling up on the other goes into propelling the bike with clipless pedals than with standard flat pedals. Because your favorite independent local bike shop will gouge you on shoes and shorts, get accessories such as shoes and shorts, and maybe even pedals, at some place like Performance Bicycle. Performance is the cycling equivalent of Wal-Mart. But take in your pedals (or your bike if your pedals are attached to it) and tell them you need inexpensive shoes and cleats that are compatible with your pedals. Clipless pedals do have a learning curve. You will fall and be embarrassed more than hurt. It's OK. You'll fall at very low speeds. I've only fallen twice.

Get a pair of cycling shorts. You'll be happier and probably unchafed that you did. Yes, spandex and a crotch pad (chamois — indeed a little alpine goat-like animal used to die for the comfort of cyclists; now it's all wicking synthetics) will make you feel ridiculous. That feeling will last for six months. Then you'll be buff enough you can wear the shorts in your modeling photo shoots. . . . I hope all of this helps. Let me know if you have questions.

Yours in beer and bicycles,
Cycledork

Ah spring

"Hey asshole — get a car!"

Now that the weather's nice, more windows are rolled down. The witticism came as I pedaled past a passenger in a vehicle turning left from Tody Goodwin Road onto Beaver Creek Road to go even more deeply into the comparative nothingness of southeastern Chatham County. Except to emphasize that the bon mots emanated from the passenger, who may have been letting someone else drive, draw your own conclusions.

Greetings aside what a day to ride, even in Chatham County. I got in about 70 miles. The distance kept me on track for two goals: at least one 100k ride per month and a monthly tally of 416.7 miles, to put me on pace for 5,000 miles for the year. Though I made it for March, I'm still 205 miles behind for the year. Rationalization: summer months are better for piling up miles than winter months.

I expect my fan reached his destination hoarse as assholes were everywhere. The weather is cyclingtacular. And I own three cars.

Welcome to BikeFriendlyville

Or welcome back, anyway. The new issue of American Bicyclist, the house organ of the League of American Bicyclists, arrived today. This issue's theme is the league's Bicycle Friendly Communities program, of which Cary is one at the bronze level. Fifty-eight municipalities throughout the United States have made the cut at some level. The league first recognized Cary in 2003. Town efforts have include a bicycle-education video produced in English and Spanish, the Cary Cycling Celebration, wide outside lanes or striped bike lanes on all collector streets and thoroughfares and a requirement that new developments include bicycle parking facilities. The wide outside lanes are the real deal and allow me to be passed safely when both cars and I are hauling ass.
Living in one of the great 58 is pretty cool but I also know from visiting my mom in Fort Collins, Colo., a silver-level community, that there are more possibilities. Fort Fun practically insists that you pedal and accomodates bicycles on the road so effectively that efforts here seem primitive. Cary has a ways to go to reach those heights.

A dash of humiliation goes a long way

I turned in a 55 miles ride in just a hair over three hours today. Worth bragging about, as I just have. I took the Old U.S. 1 route (Googlemaps appears to be down; once I can get to it you'll see the route). As I crossed over N.C. 55 in Apex I saw two cyclists ahead of me. Good. Maybe someone to ride with or maybe just riders to chase. The first guy made a quick left but the second continued straight. I noticed after a minute or so that the gap wasn't closing and I was doing 23 mph. Never letting up, as the front man did from time to time, my speed varied between 22 and 26 mph (how cool is that?). I figured I make up room as the road became more rolling and I did. As I got closer I noticed a handlebar setup I wasn't used to seeing — was this guy a time trialer? Just east of New Hill I noticed the widest tires I'd ever seen on a road bike. But they weren't so wide on a mountain bike, as this was. With front and rear suspension. West of New Hill, after about six miles, I caught him. He was gracious enough to let me lead for a while but it was obvious I was an impediment. He politely excused himself and left me in the dust.

Do a little work to get what's yours

Here's how a couple of phrases could end up paying off big time for those of us who ride to work. Legislation rolling through Congress would extend the definition of transportation in tax law to include bicycling. That change would allow employers to offer certain benefits — that could even include cold, hard cash — to employees who cycle to work.

This sounds similar to a system that's been in place in Great Britain for some time. Of course, if it's as similar as I think it is, employer participation is voluntary. Tell your senators and representative you think this change would be a good idea. This has the tire marks of a League of American Bicyclists lobbying effort all over it.

My plan had been to post this a week ago and include a link from the league leading to prewritten letters that could then be sent with a handful of mouse clicks to our senators and representatives. However, reading through the league's letters, I noticed that they were using bill numbers from the last session. I e-mailed to point this out but never heard back. Maybe it was my smart-ass comment about Mark Foley having been a sponsor in the last session (I did not say a pedophile can't like bikes or that he could not offer me a financial incentive to ride to work). A check today reveals the league has removed the prewritten letters from its site instead of correcting them. Anyway, if you're feeling compelled to prod your elected officials, the correct bill numbers are S. 858 and H.R. 1498.

What am I missing here?

So there I was looking through my bicycle newsgroup alerts and saw a hit at alt.energy.homepower for a solar-powered bicycle. Since it's an open forum and I'm tired and irriated, this was the most diplomatic thing I could write:

Solar energy has a lot to recommend but I am skeptical of this application. Isn't the point of a bicycle that the rider expends the energy? Riding a bike that weighs 75 pounds would be like riding an anvil. I'm all for being chintzy with fossil fuels but it seems to [me] this vehicle sacrifices efficiency in many ways for the sake of being solar powered. Though admirable intentions are at work here I think someone missed the point.

Less diplomatically I have to ask two questions: what are they thinking and how fucking lazy do you have to be?

The other retirement

The valve nut for my front inner tube bent and then broke off this afternoon as I was preparing for another go at my own private time trial. This situation necessitated replacing, after two-and-a-half years and how many thousands of miles I don't know, the original tube. After putting on the new tube and several attempts at refitting the original front tire, it became clear that the bead of the tire would not seat properly. The tire, like the tube, served me extraordinarily well. Both will be missed.

My own private time trial

As I mention in this post, this 9.35-mile back-and-forth fills the bill when I want to ride hard — for me — but not long. In the original post, I said I wanted to bring this one in 30 minutes or less, with emphasis on less. Today I came in at 27:51.9: 20.13 miles per hour, after two rides last week that blasted through the half-hour barrier. While for an overaged schlepp I'm thrilled and proud of my 20.13 mph, I'm also willing to put my effort in some context. David Zabriskie holds the Tour de France time-trial record at 33.97 mph over a course of 11.8 miles in 2005. I don't expect to race Zabriskie any time soon. Even with his longer route he will have finished his first beer by the time I join him. Figuratively, anyway, since he probably hasn't enjoyed a beer and cheeseburger in a much, much longer time than I have.

Is this really necessary?

One of my favorite generic irritated questions to ask is, "How fuckin' lazy do you have to be?" Granted, I'm extremely grateful that I don't have to grow my own wheat, mill it, keep a yeast colony growing and cut my own firewood, among other things, to make the bread for my peanut butter sandwiches (or, for that matter, shepherd my own peanuts from seed to lunch). But for instance, as much as I love my car, it irked me that the model only came with power windows. How much effort does it take for someone to roll down the windows him- or herself? Same with television remotes. After all, I can get up and use the switch on the television. It is not an imposition. So when I saw this article, I had to wonder if someone had missed the point. Oh yeah, one more thing: we all drive stick in this house. It's just not that hard.

Retired

A friend of mine recently had his first experience getting a flat fixed. That made me realize that I'd ho-hummed getting on my third tire and fourth or fifth tube on my rear wheel over the weekend. The first tube I replaced took about an hour; the procedure for time and tubes this time took about 10 minutes (the first tube I put on had two holes in it). I've read rears go bad more quickly because they bear more weight. A bead failed on the first tire. The second tire died a death of maybe a dozen cuts and nicks. It also appeared to be fatally compromised by what felt like several strands of jewelry wire. The third tire is holding up well after 16 miles. Those first two tires managed to survive a variety of indignities, including rocks, nails and cotter pins. The tubes did not endure the indignities as well and suffered from some I inflicted, such as a valve stem I kicked off and particularly pointy rock that I hit at just the wrong angle. Not to mention nails, pins and wire. Yet at the other end of the bike, after thousands (eight? 10?) the original front tire thrives. Go figure.

A glimpse of the buffalo

There I was, closing in on the middle of nowhere. Another cyclist turns right from a side road to my left and starts coming toward me. "Huh," I said. "His jersey has blue sleeves and a red body just like the one I'm wearing." As we near, I realize his jersey has the same message as mine: "New Belgium Brewing Company." Go down a couple of entries and you'll see what I'm talking about. I didn't just give a polite cyclist's wave, I pointed. I've never thought of southeastern Chatham County a site for synchronicities but maybe I'll have to reconsider.

C'dork's Friday ride guide: nine miles for any time

I may go on this ride tomorrow. Or I may not. It's tremendous virtues include that it is short and goes through scenic, rolling country, including some of the N.C. State vet school farms, a state park and a forest managed by the N.C. State forestry school. Not so virtuous, perhaps, is the subdivision of big-ass honkin' houses that's gone in between the forest and the state park. But the silver lining in that, from my selfish perspective, is about a mile and a half of beautifully paved road between the park and Edwards Mill Road that makes this ride possible on a road bike. Particularly as the days get longer this route will make a terrific after-work sprint, at least by my leaden, old-man standards. My goal for this ride is 30 minutes or less, with an emphasis on less.

Where the 'dork pedals

Notice the Web links at the right of the picture. These are all sites I frequent and that have been blogged about specifically (e.g., Sheldon Brown) or are places from where many of you have followed links to come here (e.g., Cycling Plus forums). Cycledork is only about several months delinquent letting readers know where the good stuff is. Expect to see more links in the future.
One link that I don't believe has been referred to previously is New Belgium Brewing Company. New Belgium, which brews Fat Tire Amber Ale among other things, is in Fort Collins, Colo. I go to Fort Collins every summer to visit my mom. My bike comes with me. Fat Tire, of course, refers to the rubber of the cruiser depicted on the ale's label. Years before I ever hit the road and meant it, since I was a Fat Tire drinker, I knew that New Belgium was into bikes. "Tour de Fat: A Ballyhoo of Bikes and Beer" is one of its biggest promotions.
Anyway, in 2005, on my first ride in anything like mountains, I pulled into the overview at the top of Horsetooth Reservoir, and caught another cyclist, J.T. He was taking the scenic route to Estes Park to pick up his car; I was just out for a spin in south central Larimer County. Anyway, we rode together for about 15 miles. During that time I learned he had started his dream job a few months before as a brewer at New Belgium and for fun he was a semipro (my phrase) mountain-bike racer. Beer brewing bike racer leads me on my first ride along the rollers? Let's just say the realization of that white buffalo vision quest and the wisdom imparted still affect me and for the better: hydrate; get plenty of sleep. And to my knowledge it involved no hallucinogens.

The other Thor's younger brother

The accompanying picture is of Ted, the Norse god of bicycle repair. Recently deciphered runic texts, provided by Carl Fogler from the annals of Trygve Lode, reveal the following:
"[Ted] is holding Mjollnir, the fabled metric wrench of the gods, feared by the Rime Giants (sometimes translated as Corrosion Ogres). His purely historical headgear should not become the subject of helmet wars."
Lode goes on to explain the nature of Mjollnir — and its continued existence — as well as other, underappreciated elements of Norse legend: "[T]he so-mythical-as-to-be-utterly-forgotten Spanner of the Gods had fallen into my hands. While rushing home to fetch this legendary tool — aided and abetted by the redoubtable Terrylee — the long-lost Norse myth, 'Spam and the Spanner,' which told the story of how Spam came to be the sacred food of the Vikings was...um...recovered."
Sometimes the mead really does drip from Valhalla.

I want my cycling.tv

Start asking too many questions, following too many threads and end up watching videos of stage races in Scotland. Cycling.tv appears to be a production of Procycling, a U.K.-based print magazine. In one way it's hard to relate to professional cycling because it's so far removed from the world of cycledork but on the other hand it is cool to watch because the riders are so good. So you'll pardon me if I have to get back to secrets being revealed by Norwegian cycling god Thor Hushovd. Then we've got to move these refrigerators, we've got to move these color TVs ….