the coldest ride I ever spent

There's something to that old saying about California... and even though I don't live in San Francisco—rather further south—I often find that the coldest ride of the year, or walk for that matter, is an evening in late summer. I guess because when it's in the mid-80s during the day one doesn't think to bring along a sweater. But then you stay out a little later than planned and suddenly the sun has dropped far below the ridge and the breeze has picked up and miles to go before we sleep... And maybe the body isn't quite acclimatized to the light chill, having fought hard all summer to relearn how to shed any and all extra heat... and then you start shivering and you're even out of practice at that so it just runs on uncontrollably and then you're cold.

The Art of Crashing

Start by getting a nice long warmup ride so you’re relaxed and comfortable on the bike. Find a wide shaded street with an ever so gentle downgrade - an un-false flat, if you will. Shift into the big ring and find an easy cadence, turning a cog somewhere in the middle range. Don’t rush. Your front tire will be thrown out by a small bump in the road, presumably a tree root pushing up the asphalt. The rear tire will follow and buck the bike up into the air. This will happen fast—without opportunity to make any adjustments or corrections. You’ll try but won’t quite be able to piece together this sequence of events later. There will be a sensation of rolling, tumbling along the ground. Curled up in a heap in the gutter, you’ll think, “Oh no.” Are you okay? Are you okay? I don’t know. Can I help you up? Uh, just a sec. Am I okay? I don’t know. How did I get so dirty? Thanks for stopping. Where’s my bike? It’s way over there—I saw it flipping through the air! Are you okay? It looks like your derailleur is toast. Are you okay? I don’t know. I think so… Drink that last sip of water. Straighten the handlebars. Just get on the bike. Get to that park. Get some water. Wash off the blood and dirt. Soft, soft, soft pedal home. Just get home. Just seven miles. Just get home… 

traffic calming ahead

I first saw the sign, “Traffic Calming Ahead,” several years ago, a few miles from home. I was a little confused by it. And yet, intrigued by it, as well. It was, after all, a rather traffic-y day so the thought that traffic would be calmer ahead seemed a pleasant notion. Somehow a fixed metal sign couldn’t possibly be giving realtime updates, could it? Maybe it was more psychological than that. The age old Jedi Mind Trick… Tell people that traffic will be calming ahead and they’ll relax and traffic will actually calm! (Sorry, one should never put an exclamation point after calm—that just doesn’t look right.) 

I’ve seen this sign now a few other places, although I forget where. And somewhere along the way I figured out that it was warning of various techniques and/or devices such as “road furniture” intended to create a safer, smoother, calmer road experience for all users. 

Despite these signs, and their psychologically coercive powers, traffic has not calmed. At least not the outliers of traffic. Certainly I’d like to recognize those among us that are calming influences in our road community—the “non-anxious presence in traffic,” as One Speed Go put it (I can’t stop thinking about that, by the way.) So there’s, like, this 65/35 ratio, I’d guess. 65% are cool. 35% are freaking out. 

And more to my point, they’re freaking me out! I mean, hey, man, I’m just trying to bliss-out here. I’m just peacefully following the rules of traffic like the majority of us are, moving calmly along, navigating the roadways. I’ve got the sails all set just right with the perfect breeze, a loose grasp on the mainsheet, leaning back to starboard… when all of a sudden a speedboat comes roaring through across my line, leaving a wake of turbulence that really salts my game, ruffles my feathers, takes the wind out of my sails, bums me out, man… 

Sometimes these speedboats are cars, sometimes dogs, sometimes comments… And it makes me reluctant to ride. Because riding isn’t fun in those situations and it feels unsafe in those situations. And it makes me feel like I’m alone out there. The lone bicyclist. 

But I know we are many. And maybe that’s how I proceed. Thinking of the other un-anxious road users out there. Breathe in. Breathe out. Let it go. Lean back, find that breeze. Be cool, be cool, be cool… 

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Almost time for some maintenance...

Buy New Shoes to Run Faster

It seems every time I get a pair of new running shoes I go out for a really fast run to try them out. Nice high cadence, powerful footfall, really getting a feel for the new shoes. There’s an excitement, and a hopefulness that these new shoes will finally be the pair that takes me to a new higher level in running. Plus there’s just something sexy about anything new. That must be a part of what drives our shopping culture. 

This worked for me again yesterday. The form and effort all came together to take off a minute per mile from my normal run time. And the amazing thing… yes, I bought new shoes, but I had only ordered them online… they won’t be here for another few days! The power of our minds… 

Thomson

I was shocked to discover a crack in my seat post clamp today. I thought Thomson products were more or less indestructible. Or at least of some of the highest quality parts available. But I guess everything can fail. Strangely, too, it doesn’t seem like a part that would have much stress put upon it through normal riding conditions. I rode home hoping that the seat clamp would hold until I got there (it did). I removed it. It didn’t seem to be overtightened. It seems to be the right size. So strange. Thomson offers a three year warranty on seat post clamps. I don’t remember exactly when I got it but I think it was a little longer than that. So I’m back to the original quick release clamp on Mindful Mule. I got the Thomson clamp after my seat and seat post were stolen a few years ago while using the quick release clamp. I generally don’t park my bike in compromised settings anymore so maybe I’ll just stick with the old clamp. Too bad—I thought the Thomson looked sharp. 

Hooray for Oury

I bought these grips a few years ago. It was one of those situations where I needed a few extra bucks to reach my Free Shipping threshold. I’d always had a bit of a crush on Oury grips. They seemed like the cool kid grips of MTBers. As I recall these were also on sale. Probably because no one wants boring brown grips on their bike. It’s all about flash. Right? But what color would a mule choose? Aha! Add to cart. They’ve sat in the shed ever since. I liked my old grips and they weren’t quite falling apart yet. They were my second pair of Ergon grips. Now, finally they’re ripping apart and getting pretty gross. And I felt like I needed a fresh new feeling in my life. As directed on the package label I used rubbing alcohol to slide them on. That worked really well. I think they look pretty sharp…

Strava (almost) killed my blog

It used to be that I would go out on a run or ride and I’d think about things. I’d distract myself from the fatigue, the pain, the monotony, the cars!, as well simmering in the joys, the uplift, the enlightenments… A title would come to mind as a marker to recall and retell these thoughts through the blog… But then I became an addict—addicted to Strava… which soon led me on to fitbit, etc. Soon my thoughts were converted into GPS files and segment times and numbers and graphs and steps and data, data, data… What was left of my thoughts, those titles, were whisked quickly away from the blog and posted to Strava where I might gain a few Kudos from followers. The Kudos being the new form of acknowledgment of existence and worth. It’s a strong addiction, this cyber side world to fitness and activity. And, honestly, not one I’m willing to give up. However, I do also recognize that there is a lot of value here in the blogspot - and a community of support and inspiration that has given me so much more than KOMs or PRs ever could. So I am still here… riding, running, dreaming… 

bicyclist transcends time, space

I’m reading a book right now called Time and Again by Jack Finney. In it, the main character slips back in time about a hundred years and experiences a wintery New York City of 1882. It has reminded me that, although things keep changing everywhere as we move forward in time, there still is a lot remaining from the past all around us. Old buildings and views of mountains, and such, of course. But states of mind, as well. We all experience different layers or ratios of this perception or interpretation at any given moment. Sometimes we are rocketing along with the wave of the future and sometimes we may be quietly reflecting in what could be any era. H.G. Wells (may have) said, “Every time I see an adult on a bicycle, I no longer despair for the future of the human race.” I would have to agree—and add a pedestrian element as well. Bicyclists and pedestrians experience a little bit of the world from the past. A world without air conditioning… a world where effort turns into distance… where geography and time are linked… where nothing—and especially not everything!—is 5-minutes away… a world that is grounded… aware… patient. It’s a wonderful space. I’ve been soaking in it as much as possible. And I see others experiencing it, too—and then I understand H.G.’s sentiment. 

There’s a house up the street from me, just about at that point on my walk to the train where, if it’s a hot day, I’m starting to flag a bit, to lose that wonderful space. There are wind chimes hanging in the covered front porch. I hear them… and then I see the tree leaves flutter in the wind… And there I am… right there… no place else to be… again. 

like running in flip flops

More on running form. But isn’t that what we’re here for? 

Do you remember that moment when you first tried to run in flip flops as a kid and it was nearly impossible—they either flew right off and you burned the soles of your bare feet on the hot blacktop or they tangled up and tripped you, skinning your knees… Then you tried squeezing your toes together as you ran and that helped a little—keeping the flip flops on but making it hard to run. Maybe that’s as far as you got that summer. Maybe it took a few more hot summers in flip flops to let go—to spread your toes, to reach out with them like the claws that they are, to set your feet free—and the flip flops stayed on—and you ran…

I had that feeling again on a recent run—that claws out feeling. Strangely, maybe, I was wearing my running shoes. But they’re appropriately not too tight and they’re just stating to get broken in nice and cozy—around 300 miles so far. 

Just another joyful running epiphany… (epiFootny?) 

626 Golden Streets (This Sunday, 6/26)

roller girl

I’ve seen a young woman roller skating through my neighborhood a few times over the last week. It’s hard to guess her age - maybe her roller skates are throwing me off. Maybe late teens or early twenties? She’s not just wobbling around the block, either. She’s got a destination - she seems to be commuting somewhere. She looks so natural and confidant, like she’s been skating her whole life - she flows. And she looks so happy! She always smiles and says Hello! Good morning! She is quite possibly the happiest commuter in the world - and why wouldn’t she be? She probably feels like a little kid playing, enjoying, skating. She makes my day.   

there she is

Riding a bike through a construction zone can often be a little challenging. Even when the road construction workers have planned ahead to get parking restrictions and cones set up and traffic flaggers in place it seems they all too often forget about the fact that bicycles pass along these roads, too. 

I experienced this today. As I approached the construction zone I noticed the flagman’s face twist in uncertainty. But, to his credit, he recovered quickly and directed me through with a smile and a wave. As I passed by he noticed the empty child seat on the back of the bike - Where’s the baby? he called out. I’m gonna go getter, I responded… 

And that I did. We returned, Maz&I, along the same route in reverse…

By then the road workers were on lunch break—but not far from the road. We, Maz&I, zipped along, downhill this time. Our construction friend from earlier waved first this time and as we passed by he called out, There she is! 

It was really quite a nice moment… 

air filters

Don't forget to change your heat/ac filters every three months...



And why not do it by bike... Note the three clips holding it to the rack... 

Hometown Tour de California

run with your feet

Another post on running form! Can there ever be enough?! 

Run with your feet…

That’s it. It’s brilliant, right? It may seem pretty simple. That’s because it is. It may seem obvious. But it’s taken me two decades to think about it in this way. There’s a lot of discussion about footwear or lack thereof—about form, posture, stride, cadence, etc… There’s talk of forefoot landing, heel strike, motion control and cushioning. But things change—the body, goals, energy level, terrain… So, I think, perhaps, that, while I still intend to strive for best form, there really is no perfect lesson which will apply to every, or any, runner all the time. 

In my recent running, I’ve been letting my feet go, letting them do the running and following their lead. And I’ve had some great runs and even some fast ones in this way. Sometimes this means I land on the forefoot, sometimes on the heel. Sometimes this means my knees lift high, sometimes I shuffle. And often it all gets mixed together on a single run. Trying too hard, forcing your feet to do something they’re not interested in, may not be the best approach to finding that natural stride and form. The foot is not an inanimate block on which we land but a springy complex creative improvisational free floating jazz master! 

So run with your feet… run like a jazz master… and the rest will follow…

The Fenix Has Landed!

sisters

I may have mentioned before that there seem to be a lot of runners that live on my street. Or at least live nearby and run on my street. I see several everyday. Two of them are sisters. They may even be twins. And they have the most amazing form—running form! I’ve become a bit of a connoisseur of running form—perhaps because I feel that my own form is far from perfect and it seems to hinder my performance. So I blog about it and I think about it and I practice it as much as I can. Watching other people run with good form may be the best way to understand how it all works. And then imitate to the level that one can. There’s something so beautiful about seeing these sisters run. No doubt it is amplified by the fact that there are two of them and they are fast! It’s inspiring. They get me running and they get me running better. And on a rare occasion they even show that they, too, (two), are human. A few days ago I saw one of them run by. Then a few minutes later the other one walked by, looking rather beat. I was probably a bit happier to see this breakdown than I should have been, but it made me realize that running is sometimes hard even for the best of them. And maybe if one’s form is breaking down it may be better to stop for a bit. To walk for a bit. Rather than practice poor form. 

Rain Practice

I don’t do much running or riding in the rain. Here in Southern California it’s usually only a day or two wait until better weather so I just accept it as a rest day. And while this El Nino season hasn’t exactly delivered on the higher than normal rainfall, I have had a few opportunities to get out in the rain. Three days in a row now, actually - run, ride, run. And I’ve noticed something. After some good suffering (not struggling, mind you!) in the rain I find myself calmer and more alert back in the real world, so to speak. A bit like a meditation practice might do—a rain practice…

basic things in common

I met up with a friend in the pub yesterday evening. He’s someone I’ve done a few long rides with. And a few short runs. So we talked about riding. And running. And the people that seem to rotate in and out of our circles. And we drank beer. Pretty basic. It was a short visit. We both had other things to attend to.