The Give and Take of Autumn

The yearning for cooler weather is ever with  me riding the summer months in the Middle Atlantic states.  The muscle cramps, energy sapping loss of  moisture (sweat) and loss of desire to ride during hot spells makes for a celebration when the first cool front of September arrives.  I sense a renewed strength in my legs and pedal cadence.  I discount  the paranoia of hilly routes.  I feel better.  Fall is a good time to be a road rider.

There is a downside, of course that starts to rival the distaste for heat and humidity.  The time spent getting ready for a cool morning ride, for instance, seems to become longer.  There's a lot sitting on the edge of the bed going over and over in your mind what to wear; why and why not.  Should I go with the leg warmers or just throw on the long riding pants?  Should I wear the turtle neck, but can I store it midway through the ride?  Throw on the shoe booties or not?  Full gloves or riding gloves?

The decision to sign up for an Autumn century sometimes hinges on whether or not the ride organizers have provided a clothing drop.  I like clothing drops, although there is the frivolous worry that someone might inadvertently or purposefully decide to enrich their riding wardrobe and take your plastic bag along with theirs.  My kit isn't that expensive and anyway; who wound pinch a bag of sweaty lycra?

Riders are friendlier in Autumn.  There's distinctly more waves, nods and "how's it going?" at this time of year.  People are glad to be rid of the heat and are feeling good about being out on a crisp fall ride.
Being recently retired, I have the advantage of time.  Boy, do I have time!  One can wait for the sun to burn off the October morning fog and chill.  What the heck; you can wait until after lunch and be comfortable from the first pedal stroke to ending kick for the home driveway.

Revel in this season of the year; embrace it.  Don't squander the Fall.  Winter is a mere month or so away and with it, the discomfort which accompanies our urge to be on the road.

A Banner Day

January 31, 2012
Road Conditions: Dry
Air Temp: 58F
Sunny with a 5 to 10mph breeze

I may have experienced nicer winter days here in eastern Pennsylvania...but I can't remember when!

When you get a stunning day as this you have choices:
1. Go to work and complain all day about what you could have been doing if you stayed home.
2. Call off and get the bike out for some road miles.
I opted for #2.

In the morning I took my wife to see her parents and snuck off to visit a local bicycle shop in Doylestown.  I was the only customer and made small talk with the owner of CycleSports.  Bought a few items including a Campagnolo shirt that was amazing on two fronts.  It was in my size and was 30% off retail.  This day was promising good fortune.

Returned home after lunch and the air temperature was well into the 50s.  My with said: "Why don't you go for a ride?"  How often do wives utter those words?  About as often as the Arabs and Israelis sign peace accords.
I suited up, did a brief bike check and was gone.
WoW!  Eight weeks off the road gave me a funny sensation those first few miles.  But the Garmin found the satellite, my motor memory kicked in and I was loving it!
About five miles out, I was warming up and starting to get my cadence where it was supposed to be.  Now, let's find some hills.

I like to avoid major traffic areas when I want to beat myself up on the bike.  I have enough to contend with keeping the cadence, attacking hills and cutting the right arc on curves.  I don't want to contend with drivers unused to bicyclists on the road.  The plan worked and I completed my ride before the school buses and mom-in-SUVs started cluttering the intersections.

Put 22 miles on the Bianchi and felt like I had plenty left in the tank.  Those cold, dark mornings in the garage pumping away on the Kurt Kinetic were paying dividends.

If I'm fortunate enough to get another freak weather day in February, the soul searching to call off might take some thought and consideration before placing the call.  Naa, I'll just leave a voice message the night before.  Ride on.

New Bike Shop, New Bike

Bicycle shops are divided into two categories: national chain stores and one man shows.
I advanced in my pursuit of becoming the quintessential old guy on a bicycle via the national chain store route.
All bike shops need to sell product...a lot of product as the competition is stiff and profit margins are low.  Keep that in mind when you walk into a bike store.

After spending most of the first "return to bicycling' season on a late 70s Fuji I was ready to upgrade.  Reaching down to shift gears and "feeling" the next lower or higher gear requires a body function comfortable with multi-tasking.  Unfortunately, I don't have one of those body types.  Shifting for me on the Fuji meant loosing speed, cursing and vows to give up this new found nonsense.
One day over lunch, I previewed the new line of Trek bicycles at a local chain store.  The sales guy looks at me and pronounces me a "Hybrid" type.  20 minutes later, I'm convinced I need a new Trek fx 7.5.  After all, the shifters are built into the handle bars.  It's lighter.  It's trendy, all the old guys in Florida ride a Trek fx.
I was hooked, had to have one, and $650 later, I owned one.
What a difference!  This thing made me look good and I was finally able to shift on the fly.  Man, I've arrived.
About 100 miles later, I discovered the Trek wasn't the panacea for hills that I yearned for.  And the stock seat; at Guantanamo, they could have saved all that evil empire waterboarding press and given all those prisoners a Trek fx with stock seats and they've been spilling their guts in no time.
Back to the chain store to buy a new seat and hear a sales pitch about a new gear set that would have me climbing hills like the boys in the peloton.  I bought the seat but begged off the stupid amount of money needed to replace my stock gear set.

I spent most of the season on the Trek and rather than appreciate the bike, I became accustomed to its nagging deficiencies.  Then, I met Mr. Bianchi

We All Despise Discomfort

Like many men, I traversed middle age doing pretty much what I wanted.  I ate and drank the same things as when I was in my 20s and 30s.
And then one day you realize nothing fits.  Even your socks feel a bit too small.  Stairs are to be avoided.  Walking anywhere wastes valuable time.  Annual physicals are dreaded mainly because your doctor is going to tell you what you already know but refuse to admit; you're fat, you have high blood pressure and your oxygen intake rivals that of the common field mouse.

I couldn't jog anymore as my knees made ominous sounds when I squatted down to get something out of the pantry.  I didn't feel I'd use an expensive swim club membership and going for walks with geriatric sneakers was not up for consideration.

I did have that old Fuji bike I bought in the late 1970s.  Set of new tires, some oil and I'd be good to go.  I took the old bike to a local shop for a "tune up" and $100 later, I was on the road.  Ah, the feeling of wind on my balding scalp, the satisfaction of powering yourself where you needed and wanted to go. And then the discovery that not only did my legs burn but my breathing sounded like a freight train going up a long incline.  This isn't feeling like the fun I had anticipated.

I was however committed to personal improvement.  After all, I had a $100 invested in this venture of bicycling to fitness.  Boy, I had a lot to learn.

Bicycling pays dividends for time and effort invested.  Don't invest time on the bike, your legs will continue to hurt and you'll develop a phobia for hills.  I walked up so many hills my first season on the Fuji that a lady behind me one day at a store check out asked why I wouldn't get my bike fixed.  I asked what she meant and she told me she lived on a hill that was part of my usual route and kept seeing me walking up the hill pushing my bike.  Note to self: Change the exercise route...today.

That first summer was hard but I slowly started to see subtle changes.  I now had calves.  Yes, there was the beginning of actual definition in the muscles of both upper and lower legs.  I could climb a flight of stairs without contemplating a 911 call.  My pants felt a little less constricting around my waist.  I was on my way.  I think I'mm going to like this.  All the pain, sweat and embarrassment were paying off.
Now, if only I could go faster and climb hills without fear...