The roads speak to me

Here I am now, mounted to my steel steed of transport and play.  As I spin circles I feel as though I am gliding over the surfaces of the earth while maintaining a direct connection with what rests beneath.  Looking down reveals a vignette of things both long past and soon to come: Road.

Reading the road is like understanding an intimate language that transcends verbal communications of any sort.  To both feel and see while simultaneously adapting to the contours of the landscape strikes me as the equivalent of a sailor navigating the unknown vastness and uncertainty that is the sea.  You can only know it truly by approaching it and embracing it for what it is.  With unexpected ramps, winding switchbacks, varying terrain and seemingly endless flats with rolling hills, the land tells its story through innumerable subtle nuance.

 Great roads tell tales of conforming to the curvature of the plains, mountains, valleys and straits.  A path chronicles history over the decades past and suggests things such as an appreciation for nature (and often time a lack thereof), overzealous ambition, and both patience as well as hastiness. The plowing of bulldozers and digging of excavators inevitably differentiates the natural flow of continents from expedient routes of transport.  In turn the road reveals itself as unit of measure that is directly proportional to our willingness as humans to traverse the planet as it is.  Such aforementioned roads are the ultimate conveyors of our planet's current state.  They speak a language that has either a highly industrialized and mechanized dialect, or a gentle, admiration induced compassion for nature.

Although a blasted sliver of highway dissecting a colossal mountain pass may indeed facilitate quick movement, the greatest roads are indeed those of least resistance.  Simple in nature though they may be, the best paths speak volumes as they allow us to follow in the footsteps of those who paved the way with grace.  With respect and admiration, I now continue onward, feeling the textures translate through my bicycle and into my muscles, nerves and bones.  A direct translation is understood as I continue forward with receptivity being my key to movement, thus allowing me to bend and stiffen with the ebb and flow of the ride.  The road will only continue to afford me a wonderful journey so long as I am capable of speaking its language.  

Continue on road, and I will be here to listen.

The Pro cycling/Formula 1 parallel

It doesn't take much investigation to stumble upon the realization that in the bicycle world, what wins sells.  The direct correlation between UCI, ASO, RCS Sport and USA Cycling overall/stage race wins and revenue generated is empirically observable.  The amount of R&D that goes into sending racers out into the Peleton with the most advanced metallurgic, electronic, aerodynamic and lightweight machines is second to none.  Technological, nutritional and bio mechanical  analysis is studied, contemplated, reworked and deliberately implemented into something that from an outside perspective seems more like a meticulously orchestrated DARPA project than an act of people simply chasing one another around on bicycles.  Paradoxical though it may seem, both the previous and the latter could not be closer to the truth.  The bottom line here is that modern bicycle racing is a cohesively strategized science project that is equally dependent on the psychological and physiological performance of 8-9 racers working in tandem (team mates) as it is on the utilization of the highest technological development.  So you might be asking yourself what the hell any of this has to do with Formula 1 auto racing.  The answer in a word: everything.

Some of you might remember this marketing scheme courtesy of Specialized
sometime in 2014 that circulated magazines and blogs the world round.
It wasn't their gimmicky attempt at likening a bicycle to a Formula 1 car that
got my attention as much as it was the evocation of underlying parallels
that exist logistically between the FIA's F1 auto racing division and the
world of pro level cycling.

Aerodynamic drag, fatigue life, ultimate tensile strength, moment of inertia, gyroscopic effect, suspension loss and friction induced drag are just a few of the key variables that either facilitate or hinder the overall performance of both Formula 1 cars and professional racing bicycles.  Equally scrutinized though these aspects may be, its the laser like precision with which the teams operate with that seems to be the most paralleled here.  With auto races being one by fractions of a second over the duration of an hour and 21 day bicycle stage races being decided sometimes by less than a minute, marginal gains become paramount in importance.  From constant, real time radio communication, to the heads up style display of critical aspects of the automobile and cyclist alike, both the Formula 1 and cycling team move in a different, yet similar fashion.  Weather patters, racers behavioral habits, physiological data and external wild card variables compose an ear full for a racer who is simultaneously attempting to focus on not only his own riding/driving, but that of his rivals as well.  With multi million dollar sponsorship deals on the line, every second of podium time, tv coverage, positive pr and name dropping comes at a serious price.  This is the life of a pro level cyclist, mechanic, seigneur, chef, director sportif and team car driver.  To eat, breathe sleep and spell anything otherwise is synonymous with failure.

Here we have former Tour De France winner "Sir" Bradly Wiggins
getting super-aero on his new age cycling rocket ship.
An equal amount of r&d went into developing the aluminium
and carbon fiber that rests between his legs as did the most modern
iteration of a Formula 1 racing machine. Skin suits,
disc wheels and aero helmets.. Pushing the aerodynamic envelope F1 style.

Confessions of a blue collar commuter - Part 2

Observation #4:  It's going to be commuted on, not raced

 

Its important to remember that we are trying to find a good tool that will primarily be used for "getting around".  Now whatever that may mean to you, I think its fair to say that most of us enjoy a spirited ride from time to time regardless of how city oriented our bike might be.  I find myself getting my legs warm and really picking up pace on my commuter bikes and like to build them accordingly.  Being that most of my riding actually takes place during commutes means that I want to get the most out of such rides.  Balancing utility with sport for me is important being that I don't want to gravitate one way much more than the other.  Though I might want a semi-aggressive geometry out of a bike, or maybe a more overall light weight package, I try my best to make these things possible without unnecessary sacrifices.  You wont see me commuting on aluminum frames for example, or low spoke count wheels for that matter.  Bridging the gap between utility and performance is always a delicate balancing act and depends entirely on the type of riding you will find yourself doing. 

 

 For me 95% of my in city commutes are done on good to decent condition pavement with the occasional hard pack dirt or gravel trail thrown in.  Conditions such as this have me coming back to a middle ground that is somewhere between the ultra light single speed and fixed gear bikes I once rode, and the heavy, often overbuilt fully rigid "mountain" bikes that I spent the last four years almost exclusively using.  I now enjoy more than ever a well balanced, steel road bike frame with tubing of average thickness: not so much that the ride feels dead yet not so little that everything I lean the bike on translates into a dented tube.   I use tires that are considered "thick" by traditional road bike standards (28-30mm) that offer me the traction and comfort I seek. 

 

My Univega frame and fork was found in excellent condition.  This bike was built up mostly with
 parts that I had from other bike projects. Though moderately priced, like the Fuji bike the quality components
are easy to find, replace and swap if and or when the time comes.

 

Observation #5:  Commutes change, and so should our bikes

 

Since heavily commuting via bike over the last six years, I have had a handful of jobs all over the city of Albuquerque.  From the north east heights and Rio Rancho, to the International district, North valley and Corralles.  The length of the rides, roads commuted, loads carried and weather conditions encountered have all contributed to changes in what I have found as optimal (and fun here lets not forget).  Being that I keep encountering many of the same variables, I have managed to settle on the two main commuter bikes to get around.  They both exhibit very similar handling characteristics, have nearly identical ergonomics and all in all feel like closely related relatives.  One bike (the red Fuji) is set up with a slightly larger frame, longer wheelbase, and thicker tubing for front and rear racks with quad panniers to carry light to mid weight loads.  I utilize taller gears in the cassette to compensate for the extra load. This will be the bike I hop on whenever I need to get around with more than just the essentials.  From laundry and groceries to anything in between for the long days out and about, this bike will get it done.

 

For equally long but less load bearing rides, I have built up a second bike (the blue Univega).  This bike is slightly more compact and aggressive than the Fuji, giving it an overall quicker and snappier feel.  The tubing is slightly thinner and the wheel base shorter.  The gearing is not as big as the Fuji's being that only a saddle and handlebar bag will be outfitted to the bike (tools and snacks in the front with phone, wallet and keys in the rear).  Similar brakes, shifters and derailleurs are utilized on both bikes to give a very seamless transition between the use of both bikes.  I wanted the two of them to feel as close as possible to one another within reason, while maintaining their own individual personality (color schemes, accents and such).  Having two commuter bikes seems essential being that no time lag is necessary if something catastrophic occurs with one of the bikes.  If it comes to it I can even outfit the Univega with racks to compensate if something happens to the gear hauling Fuji.  The parts are 100% cross compatible, from the seat post size and crankset bcd (bolt circle diameter) to the headset size and bottom bracket width.  A back up or replacement part for one bike is a mirror for the other. 

Observation #6:  No work, no pay, no play

 

For me, getting stuck out there with no option is a non-option.  I need to be able to figure out a quick solution in order to make it to work in one piece.  Be it back up city bus schedules memorized or a secondary bicycle which I can transition to, any fail safe is better than none at all.  If I can secure myself any extra preventive measure I certainly will.

Though I have had, and continue to enjoy so much fun commuting all over the city year round, I do very much understand that it is a privilege more than anything to be able to do so.  To have a job to commute to and from is the reason for the commutes in the first place, and by keeping the wheels spinning, both literally and figuratively, I can further solidify more joy filled riding down the road for myself.

Confessions of a blue collar commuter - Part 1

I often get asked what type of bikes I ride and why it is that I choose to ride them.  Though the initial answer is usually short, it is often followed with a lengthy elaboration as to how it is that I came to such conclusions.  After having answered these sort of questions as many times as I have, I though it would make perfect blog post material, particularly regarding my "commuter" bikes.  A lot of my thoughts regarding bicycles have changed over the years and have usually done so in direct proportion to my enhanced knowledge via trial and error, studies produced by others and my intended application of riding styles changing.  Though the same can be said for the commuter bike, a new set of criterion arises to meet the demands and rigor of city cycling life.

 

The city is a place where just about anything can happen at any time.  If you commute frequently or just ride occasionally within the confines of any major city you must be prepared for the seemingly innumerable implications of metro life.  Thievery, careless cyclists locking and unlocking bikes, bad roads, bad weather and bad drivers to name just a few of the unaccountable variables.  You can prepare your bike every morning to near perfection and still have to submit to the way of the world.  Having been a bicycle commuter now for my sixth year without a vehicle, I have seen just about everything under the sun when it comes to cycling related mishaps.  Being that I want to see my dollar go as far as possible, I build and plan around the idea that I could have any of my lovely bicycles taken from me at any time for nearly any reason.
 

Observation #1:  Don't ride it if you can't replace it

 

Though I have never personally been on the receiving end of a stolen bike (although I recently had a trunk bag full of tools and kit stolen directly off the rack) I have watched three of my very close friends have bicycle that we built to their liking, from the frame up, stolen and never seen again.  The big take away here is that it takes a hell of a lot longer to replicate a very specific custom bike build than it does to wave goodbye to it in the wake of thievery.  Its simply too time and cost prohibitive to replace high end bicycles that are used as frequent city bikes.  This might ring particularly true if you are a daily commuter who depends day in, day out on your bicycle to get you around.  With that having been said, it only seems logical to make efforts to outfit yourself with a bicycle that not only does what you want and need it to do, but that can achieve such goals for a reasonable price that wont render the bike irreplaceable (at least in the monetary sense as opposed to the sentimental).

 

I work extremely hard for the money that I earn and find tremendous folly in commuting on a super expensive, super high end machine that on a regular basis will be subjected to high risk exposure all over the city.  I have to come to terms with the fact that I could just as easily be the next to have a bicycle stolen and need to be ready for that in every sense.  Though I do understand that anyone can have a bike stolen just about anywhere, at any time; I do understand the inherently higher risk factor of city commuting as opposed to taking that higher end bicycle out for a ride where it might see almost no "out of sight" time.  If I am going to have a super exotic bicycle (which I do not) it will be ridden in a more isolated setting where it will not see time being locked up in the shuffle of downtown Albuquerque for hours on end.

 

 

My most recent commuter oriented bike build.  A $100 New old stock, mid range Fuji frameset that sat in a
 closet somewhere in the Midwest for the last 3 decades.  Affordable, reliable, and repeatable is the goal here.
 Square taper bottom bracket, 1" threaded headset, 700c wheels and friction shifting.
Easy to find, affordable to replace and cross compatible parts are prerequisite. 

 

Observation #2:  Simple parts make for simple fixes

 

Bicycle parts get dirty, wear out and break: all of them.  At one point or another (excluding those who choose to simply replace bicycles and parts before they need replacing for whatever reason) you will find yourself needing to fix or replace a facet of your bicycle.  Commuter or not, this is a reality that we all face and can not avoid. 

 

The year is 2016 and nearly every bicycle component manufacturer today sells products that are typically less than functionally optimal, requiring proprietary bits to fix proprietary components for proprietary "group sets" that usually cost far more than they should.  Long gone are the days where you can grab any ol' shifter from the bin of used parts to fix what should in more cases than not be a simple fix for a simple problem.  The basic reality of the matter is that most of us have become consumer locked into a particular company.  If you want to continue shifting your Sram drivetrain after something fails you will in most cases need a corresponding fill-in-the-blank Sram compatible component to keep the bike shifting and the flow of Sram profits growing.  The same thing can and will be said for Shimano and Campagnolo.  The "big three" as I like to call them have not only made it cost prohibitive to make minor repairs, but often times entirely impossible without buying a new component all together.  If all one can find bin of shifters at the local bike shop are old outdated Shimano and Sram bits, the likelihood of doing a quick Campagnolo fix will require good money and a longer wait time for the wholesaler to ship the part, and in turn the cyclist (most shops don't stock every little bit of componentry that is needed to make repairs in the same way that auto part shops sometimes do).  If we can figure out how to set up a more simple bicycle that depends less on proprietary based componentry, and more on universal standards, we take another step toward a more headache free, money saving DIY solution while giving the preverbal middle finger to those to try to insult our intelligence as consumers with marketing gimmicks and planned obsolescence.
 

Observation #3:  Its going to get scratched up and dented

 

Your bike was made for a reason, and if that reason happens to coincide with heavy commuting, it is going to get beat up at an accelerated rate.  From the city bus racks scratching up your fork, to careless cyclists locking up bikes frantically and dinging your frame, your commuting steed will indeed experience a storm of wear and tear regardless of whether it was built to endure or not.  Every bike (excluding one that I babied) that I have ever done any sort of commuting on has acquired a nice patina of chips, nicks, dents and scratches from usual use.  Some of the battle wounds were self inflicted while others were completely unavoidable.  The simple matter of fact is that if you have to look over your shoulder every time you take more than a few steps away from your bike (I have been here), you might want to ask yourself if your bicycle is a good pick as a commuter.

A different kind of racing

Coming from a background of competitive everything, be it martial arts and paintball tournaments to chess and magic the gathering events, I always tried to be the best that I possibly could.  Though my motivation to find greatness through adolescence was different, I always seemed genetically predisposed to strive for progress.  Finding both large and marginal improvements was something that I searched high and low for as it helped me excel in my competitive hobbies.  Unfortunately my most substantial pitfall throughout my journey was that I consistently aimed to win not for personal growth, but to be better than the next person in line.  Though I learned much and usually developed quickly (sometimes not as much), I failed to strive for what is far more important to me today; my own high potential irrespective of what others may or may not achieve.

The merits of racing

Bicycle riding and racing are very unique and interesting arts being that they require their participants to be multi-faceted in numerous ways.  Patience, physical strength and endurance, chess like foresight, nutritional knowledge, biomechanical harmony, mental tenacity and mechanical understanding are just a few key variables that immediately come to mind.  To be a successful and dynamic cyclist, racer or not, is to embody the aforementioned attributes simultaneously.  It is to the degree that we incrementally grow in each dimension that we can to that very degree enhance our over all ability as cyclists.  Racing is an outstanding stone of which we can hone our tools by being thrust into scenarios that demand our immediate receptivity.  Any lack thereof directly translates to a very visceral shortcoming.  Being pushed in different ways and stepping out of comfort zones is something that can benefit even the most recreational cyclist.  Racing sets the stage for a plethora of learning when it comes to the essential building blocks of cycling.  Be it on-the-fly mechanical problem solving or last-ditch effort psychological trickery, the race is a game of back and forth fluctuation; a cat and mouse dance with you sometimes being hunted by a field of hungry chasers.  More often than not the real race of cycling is a mental game of determination within your self.  Persistence and timing are equally key to success as brute strength and speed.  Though engaging in sportive cycling can be advantageous in more ways than not, the competitive nature of the game leads some to obsession, mental burnout and overuse injuries if not managed carefully.

Former leader of the Giro D'italia Alberto Contador holding the Maglia Rosa
 (overall leaders jersey[pink]) by taking only necessary risks, working
cohesively with his team and constantly gauging his current state.



Where are you?

There comes a point where you have to sit back and be honest with yourself about your current  physical conditioning, technical abilities and experience.  If you push so hard that you hurt yourself and others in the process of being overconfident, you may find yourself in a state of serious pain, both mentally and physically.  In the context of cycling there is not a lot that is more vexing than the mental anguish of knowing that you so easily could have avoided adversity by simply letting off the gas a bit and being realistic about the circumstances.  Taking risk is of course essential to growth, but over extending yourself so much that you inflict irreversible damage is something that is entirely avoidable altogether.  I have seen many athletes push themselves so far that the only thing that seemed to stop them was to literally fall flat on their own backs.  Mental clarity and physical resilience has to constantly be in our periphery if we are to safely climb the mountain of growth (pun intended).   

 

No need to allow you and your friends to amount to this..

The race with yourself

In 99.9% of instances there always seems to be someone out there that is in one way or another better than we are.  Be it our ability to descend technical single track or glide up double-digit grade hills, somewhere out there someone is doing it faster.  The important point that I allude to here is that no matter how hard you train, how good you are or how many races you win, there is always margin for improvement within your own sphere of activity.  Regardless of whether you are in the bottom of the barrel when it comes to your rivals or winning virtually everything in sight, your ability to move forward is entirely up to you and massively dictated by whether or not you take your own baby steps within your abilities.  So what if your friend is that much better than you; Is he/she the same age, have the same experience and fitness, ride the same bike or have the same weekly work load as you?   There are so many variables in the equation that it is entirely irrelevant if the next person is any slower or faster than you.  Assuming for a moment that you have outdone the remainder of your counterparts, would it be rational to conjure up a argument that supports a decision to stop seeking improvement?  Why let circumstances such as these in any way dictate your own personal trajectory.  What really matters is where we are, what we are doing, and identifying those areas within which we can grow.  Shy of the professionals who literally eat, breathe and sleep competitive cycling, no two individual's circumstances are alike.  You are here today with your physical abilities and the only way to progress is to identify it as just that.  This is your life we are talking about here and no one else's.  To compare ourselves to the Lance Armstrong's out there is to set such a high standard that we will no doubt feel forever inferior to our seemingly immortal idols. 

So next time we set out on a good ride with a friend lets try to be a little more receptive to the fact that each one of us is unique, and that there is no reason to be hard on ourselves or others for being incapable of maintaining that particular pace for "x" amount of time.  If we can all be inviting in ways such as this the doors open that much more to fun experience with both new and old friends.  Going out on solo rides and pushing yourself is a fantastic way to become stronger in many forms, but with regard to our fellow cyclists, we need to respect one another's unique conditions and try our best to make the most of such circumstances.



When accidents become opportunity

Every once in a while you end up taking a wrong turn that has you in unfamiliar terrain; sometimes both literally and figuratively.  Yesterday was one of those days for me, and it was another beautiful reminder of how easily every "mistake" can be taken as opportunity to experience new beauty.  Commuting with haste to meet with a friend for some bike work had me taking a corner that I though might speed up my ride.  Little did I know that not only would it slow me down tremendously, but moreover that I would discover a completely new and beautiful ditch trail that intersects what I once thought was an impassible section of town.  Beautiful Fields and vineyards were presented to me with an unforgettable sky.  Incredible smells, friendly ducks and dense overgrowth had me feeling like I was in another part of the country altogether.  Its amazing what you can find when you least expect it and are willing to embrace the accidental change of pace and familiarity.  Some of the most rewarding experiences are those unexpected and foreign.  To miss these subtle moments is to miss the subtly that is life!
 

Rule #5 and the Big Ring complex: why shifting into your small gear isn't so bad.

Almost all of us have heard of it:  the ever permeating, all to repeated words composing Rule #5.  "Harden the fuck up!" is such an integral facet of all competitive cycling disciplines (particularly road racing) that it is incredible that more cyclists have not suffered from negligence and or oblivion induced death.  To be unrealistic with our physical and sometimes mental capabilities is seemingly synonymous with the 5th rule of the Velominati's list of etiquette that helps constitute much of modern attitudes.  Pertaining to the "hard man" of today's cycling world it goes without saying that "the bigger the better" is accurate in terms of your chain ring size.  As a male (and sometimes females too) the big ring becomes a direct corollary with the level of your man/womanhood and is often worn as a badge that signifies your capabilities.  The reality of the situation seems to be that very little time is actually spent in these unpractical chain ring sizes that sever as not much more than steep, downhill descenting acceleration facilitators.  When grinding into oblivion to maintain the bad ass status, many hinder more so than benefit their cycling abilities and experiences at the expense of cool points.  Is the big ring really all that bad ass and important after all?

 

 

A mortal getting support from his friends as he
experiences a big ring induced, near death experience.

 

Riding within your abilities

 

If we are all being honest with ourselves we have to come to acknowledge that we have our own unique limits.  No level of our cycling ability should in any way be superimposed over the achievements of professionals and well trained riders that we strive to parallel.  All of us are simply at our own unique, individual levels of fitness and riding abilities as we must work within such parameters in order to ride better, have more fun, mitigate unnecessary injury and improve efficiency.  Acknowledging where you stand physical should ultimately dictate how you make gearing selection, with little to zero regard for the choices of our fellow cycling counterparts.  How do you feel on your bike in that big ring?  Is it conducive to long stints of spinning on sections other than descents?  Do you ever actually spin out the big/little ring combination?  Could a smaller gearing selection generate more practical and usable gearing combinations for less isolated chain ring and cog wear?  All of these questions should be at the forefront of decisions regarding your big and little rings (or single ring for you 1x'ers) as we all ultimately need a bicycle that is practical to ride without hurting ourselves in the process of doing so.
 

These are not our legs.. so lets stop pretending already?

 

Shift already... Its ok... really..

 

The correlation between needing bailout gears to help you get up a hill and lacking ability as well as hardness is what in my opinion can be accredited to there being so many road bike re-sales in bike shops, Craig's List and Ebay alike.  Most people (myself included on my strongest days) can simply not turn a 52-50 x anything for any period of time that is worth noting.  Sure, maybe we can sustain a power output that moves us along at a decent clip utilizing such a ratio, but by the time its all said and done the likely hood that we would actually want to do it again would be slim to none.  Even many "compact" rings/cassettes are rather harsh even for many avid, fit cyclists.  How nice it would be to see "entry" level road bikes outfitted with something along the lines of a 30x46 double chain ring set.  Such gearing selection would help less fit or beginner cyclists acclimate to higher cadences and power outputs without doing so at the expense of overuse injuries such as tendonitis and unnecessary onset muscle soreness.  Having fun on a bicycle starts with being honest, getting practical and assessing your current cycling needs for the sake of not just your physical healthy, but mental sanity as well.  So please, take a look at your bike sometime and ask yourself if you are really doing yourself a service by running the setup as you do, or simply holding yourself back and making a fool out of yourself in the process of being stubborn while doing so.