Yes, I am an enthusiastic person, willing to try lotsa things, and say "yes" to many many requests. Like, for example: "Sure, I'll bike 100 miles for Susan Nelson's fight against cancer." But I do believe in a certain level of preparedness for things, and like a well-trained mom, 90% of the preparation involves wearing wool.
Why was I so joyous on Sunday? I was wearing my three, no, four favorite garments: an incredibly soft and warm lambswool sweater (turtle-ish neck, 1/4 zip, from Brooks Brothers, believe it or not), my 1952 (manufacture date is on the label!) Australian Army wool pants (5-pocket; I often roll them into knickers for bike riding), and Smartwool knee socks.
Also knicker tights under the pants, an Under Armor undershirt under the sweater, my team jersey over it, glove liners and fleece mittens, and, what the smart people do: plastic bags twixt my socks and shoes, adding warmth without cutting off circulation. All the people who snickered beforehand were the ones seeking out a warm engine block to put their toes on afterwards.
Showing posts with label winter. Show all posts
Showing posts with label winter. Show all posts
Monday, December 15, 2008
Friday, December 12, 2008
Snow + Lunch + Overexuberance = Racing Joy
Apropos of the Illinois State Cyclocross Championship race, I'd like to share a cartoon with you:
marriedtothesea.com
What a slip-slidey blast! The course was a whole lot of oxygen-sucking fun. The terrain was a a lovely mix of frozen mud, deep and rutted snow, hard-packed sand, some short steep hills with right angle turns into and out of them, and one long hill (composed of aforementioned frozen mud). Oh, and did I mention it was like 17 degrees?
Here's what I remember (this may seem like a long list, but when you consider that it's absolutely exhaustive, and that most of the observations come from the first lap), you'll come to the conclusion that a great portion of the limited athletic success that I've had has been due to the fact that my body is able to shut off oxygen to my brain, enabling better muscle performance):
Eating lunch (ahh, yes, don't say I've learned nothing this 'cross season).
Forgetting to bring a check for registration, so a nice warmup ride to an ATM and back (OK, so I haven't learned everything. But it was a great warmup).
A lousy start-line position, third row back (More not-learning things: I realized before the start that I still had my phone in my pocket and dithered about looking for someone near the line to give it to before I found teammates--thanks, guys!--watching the start).
Thankfully, most people are really slow off the line so I was able to position myself somewhere around 20th by the time of the first crash--50 yards in. Everybody in places, oh, 5-18 went down, and so I squeezed up a bit solidly into the first group of slow people.
'Round some more turns, careening downhill and left into a tunnel, and hearing as I came out, "there's a big crash on the hill! a big crash!"--whoa! no kidding. You could easily get halfway up, lose momentum, start cranking hard and spinning your rear wheel, and ploop! out goes your bike from under you. Thankfully, I stuck to the snowy unpacked side and passed another couple of folks.
Then a long slog up the sled hill--and upwind--and down, then, what's this? a fast place? on a sand path? that isn't slippery? what a joy! And, even better, a pair of barriers on flat ground? Oh, I don't mind the right turn to the barriers and the left turn out, flatland barriers are my forte, my bread and butter, my opportunity to blow by, well, a couple of people. Not enough.
My next thought was, "Why the heck is everyone going so slow? don't they know this is a race?" It turns out six-inch deep rutted snow slows some people down. Go figure. I charged a new path around them on the right, and established myself in more or less the position I'd hold for most of the race.
At this point, my memories start getting blurrier and blurrier.
I remember passing one guy only to endo fifteen seconds later coming from a concrete flat (along the lake) onto grass. Whoops, got to lift the front wheel more to get up that lip at speed.
I remember looking back and seeing a string of 2 or 3 Tatitos and thinking, "Isn't that nice? all us neighborhood guys sticking together."
I remember (fatefully) coming into the start/finish line and seeing a "2" on the laps to go sign.
I remember thinking, "do I have one or two laps to go?"
I remember getting passed by somebody in an orange jersey and thinking, "Shoot, that guy's got a broken wrist! can't let him beat me!"
And, "can I stick with him for this last lap so I can sprint with him?"
And, "poor guy, his wrist must be killing him, why's he pulling out of the race?"
And, "dang, the field is really spread out; I can't see any of my competition ahead of me."
And, "oh, the crowd must have all gone to see the finish."
And, "god, what will the lap count say now? do I have one more to do or is this it?"
And a very firm voice outside of my head saying as I crossed the line, "You're done."
And then a cool-down ride, and a couple of people asking, "Why'd you do an extra lap?"
Now I just need to equip my fans with a big "STOP, FORREST, STOP!" sign. Or better, "Sprint, Forrest, sprint!" Clearly my IQ drops to about 23 over the course of a race.
marriedtothesea.com
What a slip-slidey blast! The course was a whole lot of oxygen-sucking fun. The terrain was a a lovely mix of frozen mud, deep and rutted snow, hard-packed sand, some short steep hills with right angle turns into and out of them, and one long hill (composed of aforementioned frozen mud). Oh, and did I mention it was like 17 degrees?
Here's what I remember (this may seem like a long list, but when you consider that it's absolutely exhaustive, and that most of the observations come from the first lap), you'll come to the conclusion that a great portion of the limited athletic success that I've had has been due to the fact that my body is able to shut off oxygen to my brain, enabling better muscle performance):
Eating lunch (ahh, yes, don't say I've learned nothing this 'cross season).
Forgetting to bring a check for registration, so a nice warmup ride to an ATM and back (OK, so I haven't learned everything. But it was a great warmup).
A lousy start-line position, third row back (More not-learning things: I realized before the start that I still had my phone in my pocket and dithered about looking for someone near the line to give it to before I found teammates--thanks, guys!--watching the start).
Thankfully, most people are really slow off the line so I was able to position myself somewhere around 20th by the time of the first crash--50 yards in. Everybody in places, oh, 5-18 went down, and so I squeezed up a bit solidly into the first group of slow people.
'Round some more turns, careening downhill and left into a tunnel, and hearing as I came out, "there's a big crash on the hill! a big crash!"--whoa! no kidding. You could easily get halfway up, lose momentum, start cranking hard and spinning your rear wheel, and ploop! out goes your bike from under you. Thankfully, I stuck to the snowy unpacked side and passed another couple of folks.
Then a long slog up the sled hill--and upwind--and down, then, what's this? a fast place? on a sand path? that isn't slippery? what a joy! And, even better, a pair of barriers on flat ground? Oh, I don't mind the right turn to the barriers and the left turn out, flatland barriers are my forte, my bread and butter, my opportunity to blow by, well, a couple of people. Not enough.
My next thought was, "Why the heck is everyone going so slow? don't they know this is a race?" It turns out six-inch deep rutted snow slows some people down. Go figure. I charged a new path around them on the right, and established myself in more or less the position I'd hold for most of the race.
At this point, my memories start getting blurrier and blurrier.
I remember passing one guy only to endo fifteen seconds later coming from a concrete flat (along the lake) onto grass. Whoops, got to lift the front wheel more to get up that lip at speed.
I remember looking back and seeing a string of 2 or 3 Tatitos and thinking, "Isn't that nice? all us neighborhood guys sticking together."
I remember (fatefully) coming into the start/finish line and seeing a "2" on the laps to go sign.
I remember thinking, "do I have one or two laps to go?"
I remember getting passed by somebody in an orange jersey and thinking, "Shoot, that guy's got a broken wrist! can't let him beat me!"
And, "can I stick with him for this last lap so I can sprint with him?"
And, "poor guy, his wrist must be killing him, why's he pulling out of the race?"
And, "no, I won't take a doughnut handup thanks I'm racing! If it was beer..." and then crashing.
(are you getting the picture? I wasn't)
(are you getting the picture? I wasn't)And, "dang, the field is really spread out; I can't see any of my competition ahead of me."
And, "oh, the crowd must have all gone to see the finish."
And, "god, what will the lap count say now? do I have one more to do or is this it?"
And a very firm voice outside of my head saying as I crossed the line, "You're done."
And then a cool-down ride, and a couple of people asking, "Why'd you do an extra lap?"
Now I just need to equip my fans with a big "STOP, FORREST, STOP!" sign. Or better, "Sprint, Forrest, sprint!" Clearly my IQ drops to about 23 over the course of a race.
Thursday, March 6, 2008
Thursday, February 28, 2008
Commuting
A quickie, lunch-time post (culled in part from a few emails I've written over the past week):
Dr. Fledermaus, Bat Jr. and I were interviewed last week by the local media (to be linked when available online) for a segment about winter bike commuting.
It was an interesting experience to be interviewed; I've managed to avoid very many interviews and, though I'd thought about what I'd like to say--I even came up with my own sound bite ("I really like biking, and sometimes I wish that we had a 20 or 30 mile round trip. But the thing about what we're doing is that anyone can do it.") I didn't have the mental dexterity to get it into the conversation. The politician's skill of answering the question he wants to rather than what you ask continues to elude me. And then of course there was the moment after the interview when Dr F. said, "We should have mentioned global warming." and I thought, "Yeah, I suppose so." It's just that it's one of those staggeringly obvious things--surely there's no one out there who thinks that more auto exhaust is good for breathing!--that we don't even think to mention it. But, I suppose, like all bike commuters, we'd happily bore any listener for hours with all the personal, environmental, financial, etc. benefits of riding.
Dr. F did a great job summing up our goal: bike or walk within a 2-mile radius of home. Soundfamiliar? (We started doing it before Clif put it so succinctly, really! But their web site does help!
All in all, the piece was great, though, and hit all the high points, from a variety of perspectives--lots of different commuters: young, old, female, male, bike-geeky, 'normal'....
A few more things occurred to me, though, over the week since, specifically regarding our commute with a little 'un. First off, the bike trailer is really the warmest--even at the coldest outside temperatures--and, of course, quickest way to get her back and forth to day care (3/4 mile). We start off in our basement in the morning, so we're able to buckle her in while we're all inside, and put warm blankets on her. Then we bike out the loading dock and straight up the street to her day care, where we can get her out twenty feet from the door. Compare that to the alternatives: The stroller isn't nearly as weather-proof (especially since we added a zipper to the front of the trailer). A frozen-cold car seat certainly wouldn't warm up in the time it takes to get there, and the walk to and from the car would be way longer than the time we spend outside now. Waiting for the bus? Up to fifteen minutes outside.
But enough justification. It's also time to mention that we have a great advantage of a bike-in, bike-out basement which really makes this whole system work like a charm. Not everybody has that, to be sure--but a lot of people have garages, which perform just the same function!
The take-home message from the segment, and from us, is, "If we can do this, anybody can; we're all just ordinary folks!"
Dr. Fledermaus, Bat Jr. and I were interviewed last week by the local media (to be linked when available online) for a segment about winter bike commuting.
It was an interesting experience to be interviewed; I've managed to avoid very many interviews and, though I'd thought about what I'd like to say--I even came up with my own sound bite ("I really like biking, and sometimes I wish that we had a 20 or 30 mile round trip. But the thing about what we're doing is that anyone can do it.") I didn't have the mental dexterity to get it into the conversation. The politician's skill of answering the question he wants to rather than what you ask continues to elude me. And then of course there was the moment after the interview when Dr F. said, "We should have mentioned global warming." and I thought, "Yeah, I suppose so." It's just that it's one of those staggeringly obvious things--surely there's no one out there who thinks that more auto exhaust is good for breathing!--that we don't even think to mention it. But, I suppose, like all bike commuters, we'd happily bore any listener for hours with all the personal, environmental, financial, etc. benefits of riding.
Dr. F did a great job summing up our goal: bike or walk within a 2-mile radius of home. Soundfamiliar? (We started doing it before Clif put it so succinctly, really! But their web site does help!
All in all, the piece was great, though, and hit all the high points, from a variety of perspectives--lots of different commuters: young, old, female, male, bike-geeky, 'normal'....
A few more things occurred to me, though, over the week since, specifically regarding our commute with a little 'un. First off, the bike trailer is really the warmest--even at the coldest outside temperatures--and, of course, quickest way to get her back and forth to day care (3/4 mile). We start off in our basement in the morning, so we're able to buckle her in while we're all inside, and put warm blankets on her. Then we bike out the loading dock and straight up the street to her day care, where we can get her out twenty feet from the door. Compare that to the alternatives: The stroller isn't nearly as weather-proof (especially since we added a zipper to the front of the trailer). A frozen-cold car seat certainly wouldn't warm up in the time it takes to get there, and the walk to and from the car would be way longer than the time we spend outside now. Waiting for the bus? Up to fifteen minutes outside.
But enough justification. It's also time to mention that we have a great advantage of a bike-in, bike-out basement which really makes this whole system work like a charm. Not everybody has that, to be sure--but a lot of people have garages, which perform just the same function!
The take-home message from the segment, and from us, is, "If we can do this, anybody can; we're all just ordinary folks!"
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)