Well it is that time of year again where we all get to see what each other have been up to during the winter months. It is now light until 7:45 and that means riding together after work is quite feasible. Our road shop rides are every Thursday at 5:30 and will go out to 7 mile bridge on most rides and occasionally out the Fish Lake Trail.
The rides are free, informal and have a no drop policy which means that everyone who can make that distance are able to ride. This is not a race, but a chance to meet other riders and enjoy riding together. If a group gets too far ahead of the rest, then they stop and chat until everyone is on board.
There is some talk of a mountain bike ride during the week, but details are still being worked out.
The first ride of each month is considered a formal shop ride. No, that does not mean showing up in a gown or tux, but that members of Team Two Wheel will be there and pizza will be served back at the shop after the ride.
Meet at Two Wheel Transit tomorrow, March 31 at 5:30PM for the first ride of the year. The first formal ride will be next Thursday, April 7th. Hope to see you there!
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
On the Backside of the Hill
Let me make something clear from the beginning. I've been licensed bike racer for over 25 years. That's over half my life, but not by much. I was never a great rider but trained and raced with some of the best the Pacific Northwest has produced. This includes Scooter, one of our new Team Two Wheel riders. I have felt the depths of pain, suffering, and desperation that cycling can give you in all kinds of conditions both mentally and physically. All that being said, I broke into another plain of pain last Wednesday afternoon. Here is how it came about.
On Sunday I told my teammates that my friend Dismount Dave (explanation for the nickname to come to you at a later blog) had a KTM Superduke and was willing to motor pace us sometime. I also mention to them that Wednesday looked like a good day after work to take him up on the offer if all goes well. On Wednesday I got off work at 2:30, and the sun was shining through the windshield of my work van as I was doing my last bit of paper work. I could feel a bead of sweat running down my side-burn. It was truly a welcoming feeling. I knew what I needed for my afternoon. No sooner had I reached for my phone to call Dismount when it began to ring. I look at the caller ID and it reads Scott McSpadden (Scooter).
"Hey Rider 2, ummm, I was wonder about what you said on Sunday, about Dismount motor pacing us...um maybe on Wednesday. Is that still a possibility?"
"F-N-A cotton, I was just about to call him and see if he is still up to putting us through the spin cycle of anaerobic pain." The long awaited warmth of the sun may have accelerated my enthusiasm.
"Cool..umm.. let me know what he says. I don't want to inconvenience him or anything...but if he could, that would be great."
"Great? That would be better that dark chocolate poured all over our wives ................" Once again I blame the sun for my exuberance.
"Well.. ok...call and let me know what he says"
"Will do." I said after realizing I just stepped or maybe triple jumped over the line with him.
As it was, Dismount assured me that he would be happier than an Austrian drinking a Red Bull to motor pace us and he could meet us for an espresso at 4:15 to talk over how we wanted him to play the task master for the afternoon. Just like that, we were set. We meet for coffee but our conversation never touched on a game plan. It covered motorcycles, pro cycling, women, carbon fiber wheels and all things laced with testosterone. Once satisfied we had exhausted the topics at hand, we looked at each other with a smile and tossed the last drops of our espressos and maybe some back wash and slammed our cups on the table. We simultaneously wiped our lips on our arms. Scooter and I with our old racing team long sleeve jerseys and Dismount on his letter jacket. "Crap!" he says as transfers the smudge on his sleeve to his jeans. Scooter and I stand up and click with our cleated cycling shoes towards the exit. When we got outside I caught myself in a nerves stretch and said, "What's the plan?"
Silence. Then some facial jesters between the three of us followed by all of us trying to speak at once. At this very moment I had a rush of memories of motor pacing in my past. None of them pleasant. There will be no time or oxygen for the next hour and a half to share stories to help distract me from the great discomfort I was about to endure. What was I getting myself into? I hadn't motor paced in a decade at least. I knew the benefits were great but what's it going to do for a nearly half a century old man like me? I was about to find out the answers to those questions soon enough.
We agreed to ride down to the Hangman Valley and ride on the valley floor back and forth until we were completely drained. When we got to the starting point, I hopped on to the Superduke's wheel. This was not a delightful position to be in. You see, the back tire of that motorcycle was designed for track riding, meaning a very soft compound. Anything loose on the tarmac it ran over, it flung right in the person's face who is directly behind it and that was me at 28-32 mph for the next 5 miles. Wisely I figured out that a slight move to the right or left of the bike would prevent me from receiving a piece of gravel shot into my eye or shattering a tooth that was exposed from my gaping mouth trying to scoop in as much air as super charger on an old 440 Mopar.
At the end of the first run we stop to evaluate how we could improve on the flow of things. Scooter suggested we rotate so one person doesn't get all the work. I didn't put up a fight on that one. In fact, I wonder why I didn't give him an arm flip to have him pull threw earlier. I have no heart rate monitor but I can tell you that after 26 years of riding I know the metallic taste of going into an anaerobic state and it felt like I was sucking on a penny a majority of that first 5 miles.
Scooter and I shared the rest of the session by rotating behind or off to the side of the rear wheel of Dismount's Austrian gas powered steed. Scooter was finding himself up front more often then me as time went on. I was blown. Every 5 mile stretch we would stop and turn around to go the other direction and every time I got weaker and weaker. I run a 11-23 cluster because I prefer as tight as possible gearing I can get. Majority of that cassette is a 1 tooth difference. Well, by the end of an hour and a half it felt like 10 teeth difference between shifts. I got dropped twice and every muscle, connective tissue, and fiber in my legs were aching. I couldn't get enough oxygen. I was noxious from going to my limit to many times. I could not recover both long term and short term. I am officially old. Never in my life, not in a race or training have I ever felt so wasted and with no rebound. I'm on the back side of the hill. Will I do it again? Of course. Cycling is the most beautiful sport in the world and I will continue to do it until I get to the bottom of the back side of the hill and ride on the flats until I'm 6 feet under.
Rider 2
On Sunday I told my teammates that my friend Dismount Dave (explanation for the nickname to come to you at a later blog) had a KTM Superduke and was willing to motor pace us sometime. I also mention to them that Wednesday looked like a good day after work to take him up on the offer if all goes well. On Wednesday I got off work at 2:30, and the sun was shining through the windshield of my work van as I was doing my last bit of paper work. I could feel a bead of sweat running down my side-burn. It was truly a welcoming feeling. I knew what I needed for my afternoon. No sooner had I reached for my phone to call Dismount when it began to ring. I look at the caller ID and it reads Scott McSpadden (Scooter).
"Hey Rider 2, ummm, I was wonder about what you said on Sunday, about Dismount motor pacing us...um maybe on Wednesday. Is that still a possibility?"
"F-N-A cotton, I was just about to call him and see if he is still up to putting us through the spin cycle of anaerobic pain." The long awaited warmth of the sun may have accelerated my enthusiasm.
"Cool..umm.. let me know what he says. I don't want to inconvenience him or anything...but if he could, that would be great."
"Great? That would be better that dark chocolate poured all over our wives ................" Once again I blame the sun for my exuberance.
"Well.. ok...call and let me know what he says"
"Will do." I said after realizing I just stepped or maybe triple jumped over the line with him.
As it was, Dismount assured me that he would be happier than an Austrian drinking a Red Bull to motor pace us and he could meet us for an espresso at 4:15 to talk over how we wanted him to play the task master for the afternoon. Just like that, we were set. We meet for coffee but our conversation never touched on a game plan. It covered motorcycles, pro cycling, women, carbon fiber wheels and all things laced with testosterone. Once satisfied we had exhausted the topics at hand, we looked at each other with a smile and tossed the last drops of our espressos and maybe some back wash and slammed our cups on the table. We simultaneously wiped our lips on our arms. Scooter and I with our old racing team long sleeve jerseys and Dismount on his letter jacket. "Crap!" he says as transfers the smudge on his sleeve to his jeans. Scooter and I stand up and click with our cleated cycling shoes towards the exit. When we got outside I caught myself in a nerves stretch and said, "What's the plan?"
Silence. Then some facial jesters between the three of us followed by all of us trying to speak at once. At this very moment I had a rush of memories of motor pacing in my past. None of them pleasant. There will be no time or oxygen for the next hour and a half to share stories to help distract me from the great discomfort I was about to endure. What was I getting myself into? I hadn't motor paced in a decade at least. I knew the benefits were great but what's it going to do for a nearly half a century old man like me? I was about to find out the answers to those questions soon enough.
We agreed to ride down to the Hangman Valley and ride on the valley floor back and forth until we were completely drained. When we got to the starting point, I hopped on to the Superduke's wheel. This was not a delightful position to be in. You see, the back tire of that motorcycle was designed for track riding, meaning a very soft compound. Anything loose on the tarmac it ran over, it flung right in the person's face who is directly behind it and that was me at 28-32 mph for the next 5 miles. Wisely I figured out that a slight move to the right or left of the bike would prevent me from receiving a piece of gravel shot into my eye or shattering a tooth that was exposed from my gaping mouth trying to scoop in as much air as super charger on an old 440 Mopar.
At the end of the first run we stop to evaluate how we could improve on the flow of things. Scooter suggested we rotate so one person doesn't get all the work. I didn't put up a fight on that one. In fact, I wonder why I didn't give him an arm flip to have him pull threw earlier. I have no heart rate monitor but I can tell you that after 26 years of riding I know the metallic taste of going into an anaerobic state and it felt like I was sucking on a penny a majority of that first 5 miles.
Scooter and I shared the rest of the session by rotating behind or off to the side of the rear wheel of Dismount's Austrian gas powered steed. Scooter was finding himself up front more often then me as time went on. I was blown. Every 5 mile stretch we would stop and turn around to go the other direction and every time I got weaker and weaker. I run a 11-23 cluster because I prefer as tight as possible gearing I can get. Majority of that cassette is a 1 tooth difference. Well, by the end of an hour and a half it felt like 10 teeth difference between shifts. I got dropped twice and every muscle, connective tissue, and fiber in my legs were aching. I couldn't get enough oxygen. I was noxious from going to my limit to many times. I could not recover both long term and short term. I am officially old. Never in my life, not in a race or training have I ever felt so wasted and with no rebound. I'm on the back side of the hill. Will I do it again? Of course. Cycling is the most beautiful sport in the world and I will continue to do it until I get to the bottom of the back side of the hill and ride on the flats until I'm 6 feet under.
Rider 2
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
When Less is More
In When 16 is Not So Sweet I admitted that I still run tubes while blogging about repairing a flat on a 29" mountain bike tire prior to a ride. I have been getting grief about that fact for several years, but have been reluctant to try something new. Since that blog, the same tire has flatted 2 more times so I finally gave up on that tire. Since I was changing tires, it seemed like a good time to explore the world of tubeless mountain bike tires. The stated advantages of tubeless mountain bike tires include the ability to run lower pressure to improve traction without risking a pinch flat, and added sealant makes them self-sealing when punctured by sharp objects.
In this case, the rims were tubeless ready, but still needed a special rim strip and valve stem to seal the inner portion of the rim. The next detail was picking-out tubeless tires which have to be installed in a special way.
The tubeless tires have a special bead with a soft rubber compound that seals the tire against the rim for an airtight fit. You also need to put some sealant juice like Bontrager Super Juice or Stans to seal any small leaks or punctures while riding. Getting them to pop in place takes some high pressure and good technique. Tom showed me a neat trick of brushing water mixed with dish soap on the bead to lubricate it so it will not get hung on the rim when seating. The bead on the tires will seat when there is sufficient pressure added and make a rather surprising and unnerving loud pop.
Both tires installed and seemed to hold air on the 1st try, so I was anxious to try them out on the commute home from downtown. I am fortunate, that if I commute on a mountain bike that I can include the HD trails so about 1/2 is on road and 1/2 is on dirt trails. I normally ran about 50 psi in my tires to minimize the chance of a pinch flat. This helped for flats, but made the tires hard as rocks and quite bouncy every time I hit rocks and tree roots. It also did not do a lot for my traction on loose terrain like sand or gravel.
I played with different pressures and finally decided on 35 psi for the rear and 30 psi for the front and headed south for the bluff. The ride was surprising supple and the wider footprint of the tires seemed to hook-up better in areas I had spun-out previously. So far, so good.
My next test was the 24 hour course out in Riverside State Park. Same results as before, but I found that I could ride through the rock gardens faster because of the supple ride and better traction the lower pressure gives. Everyone who rides that course knows it can be punishing to riders, bike and tires but the tires seemed no worse for it today. I cannot attest to the self-sealing aspect of the liquid sealant in each tire since I don't know whether anything punctured them during the rides. All I know is that I did not flat with less than 36 psi in each tire.
Bottom line - there seems to be something to this tubeless thing where less is more. I will keep testing the limits of the technology to the extent my humble riding abilities will allow and report back in the future.
In this case, the rims were tubeless ready, but still needed a special rim strip and valve stem to seal the inner portion of the rim. The next detail was picking-out tubeless tires which have to be installed in a special way.
The tubeless tires have a special bead with a soft rubber compound that seals the tire against the rim for an airtight fit. You also need to put some sealant juice like Bontrager Super Juice or Stans to seal any small leaks or punctures while riding. Getting them to pop in place takes some high pressure and good technique. Tom showed me a neat trick of brushing water mixed with dish soap on the bead to lubricate it so it will not get hung on the rim when seating. The bead on the tires will seat when there is sufficient pressure added and make a rather surprising and unnerving loud pop.
Both tires installed and seemed to hold air on the 1st try, so I was anxious to try them out on the commute home from downtown. I am fortunate, that if I commute on a mountain bike that I can include the HD trails so about 1/2 is on road and 1/2 is on dirt trails. I normally ran about 50 psi in my tires to minimize the chance of a pinch flat. This helped for flats, but made the tires hard as rocks and quite bouncy every time I hit rocks and tree roots. It also did not do a lot for my traction on loose terrain like sand or gravel.
I played with different pressures and finally decided on 35 psi for the rear and 30 psi for the front and headed south for the bluff. The ride was surprising supple and the wider footprint of the tires seemed to hook-up better in areas I had spun-out previously. So far, so good.
My next test was the 24 hour course out in Riverside State Park. Same results as before, but I found that I could ride through the rock gardens faster because of the supple ride and better traction the lower pressure gives. Everyone who rides that course knows it can be punishing to riders, bike and tires but the tires seemed no worse for it today. I cannot attest to the self-sealing aspect of the liquid sealant in each tire since I don't know whether anything punctured them during the rides. All I know is that I did not flat with less than 36 psi in each tire.
Bottom line - there seems to be something to this tubeless thing where less is more. I will keep testing the limits of the technology to the extent my humble riding abilities will allow and report back in the future.
Monday, March 28, 2011
New team jerseys. Coming soon.
Bike racing has a number of iconic jerseys. You'll see these somewhat frequently on club rides around the world. There's the Molteni jersey of Merckx. The La Vie Claire jersey of Hinault and LeMond.
But surprisingly, at least to the mighty Team Two Wheel, there's a jersey that's rarely seen on the roads, but arguably one of the most distinctive designs of all.
It was worn by stars with names like Millar, Gaul, Anderson, Pensec and Simpson, to name a few. This is the jersey of the Peugeot teams of the 70s and 80s.
While we are big believers of the need to earn a jersey before you wear a jersey (You won't see us wearing "replica" national team jerseys. Ever.), we're also students of cycling, and a nod to the past felt right.
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| From Two Wheel Transit |
So behold, the new Team Two Wheel jersey. We even sourced the original Peugeot and Michelin fonts and applied them to the TWT letterform. Nice. So black, white, and lots of negative space.
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| From Two Wheel Transit |
Let us know what you think. And if you're interested Two Wheel Transit will have very limited quantities for sale later this spring.
No word yet about whether this jersey means Mr. McSpadden, a.k.a "Scotter," will be climbing like Robert Millar by this May.
And enjoy some photos from back in the day.
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| From Two Wheel Transit |
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| From Two Wheel Transit |
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| From Two Wheel Transit |
Saturday, March 26, 2011
I think we all can relate to Rider 3's blog yesterday about his rain-stricken ride. Sooner or later, the weather catches you less prepared than you'd like, and you just have to slog through. I got a reminder of that on Thursday evening, when Spokane Rocket Velo went for their first Chase The Sun ride, which is a loop north of Spokane.
We started at 6:30PM, knowing that we'd be riding in the dark by the end. Hey, no problem, I've got excellent lights and a custom hyper-reflective jacket. Chase The Sun is a no-drop ride, but that doesn't rule out some "random bursts of fast," as we call them, so I did want to bring my Trek road-racing bike, not my heavier jack-of-all-trades Soma Smoothie ES rain/commuting bike.
In the interest of full performance potential, I also removed the RoadRacer Mk. II full fenders from the Trek the night before. If it looked like rain, I planned to take the Soma, which has full fenders and can carry baggage (namely raingear).
Well, it didn't look like it was going to rain, but guess what? Yeah. I could describe the rest, but this video sums it up fairly well:
Sorry the music goes on after the video ends, I neglected to trim it at the end. Anyway, I did a thorough job of jinxing myself, huh? March is not to be underestimated!
We started at 6:30PM, knowing that we'd be riding in the dark by the end. Hey, no problem, I've got excellent lights and a custom hyper-reflective jacket. Chase The Sun is a no-drop ride, but that doesn't rule out some "random bursts of fast," as we call them, so I did want to bring my Trek road-racing bike, not my heavier jack-of-all-trades Soma Smoothie ES rain/commuting bike.
In the interest of full performance potential, I also removed the RoadRacer Mk. II full fenders from the Trek the night before. If it looked like rain, I planned to take the Soma, which has full fenders and can carry baggage (namely raingear).
Well, it didn't look like it was going to rain, but guess what? Yeah. I could describe the rest, but this video sums it up fairly well:
Sorry the music goes on after the video ends, I neglected to trim it at the end. Anyway, I did a thorough job of jinxing myself, huh? March is not to be underestimated!
Friday, March 25, 2011
Riders on the Storm
Last weekend, I got together with the core of Team Two Wheel for a ride on Sunday. I wish there was snappy video like mechBgon, but even if there had been a camera it wouldn’t have survived the onslaught that we endured. It would seem that if you had perfect prescience or the ability to track the weather systems and then go back in time, we managed to follow the exactly worst weather that the day had to offer. In fact, I was almost insulted by the pleasant spring afternoon that emerged after I spent hours in the freezing wind followed by freezing rain, freezing sleet, some freezing hail and generally freezing hell.
Here was the plan:
• Meet downtown since team sponsor The Scoop isn’t open on Sunday yet (winter hours, don’t ya know);
• Ride out to Cheney;
• Ride the short road race course from Frozen Flatlands;
• Ride home;
• Have a special and delicious meal together at Rider Two’s home prepared by Rider Two’s indulgent wife.
Sounds like a hella good plan right?
Here was the reality:
• Meet downtown since team sponsor The Scoop isn’t open on Sunday. On the way there, notice that the wind is very biting and cold. Colder than the day before, even though the temperature was supposed to be 10+ degrees higher.
• Think about the amount of clothing you wore, based on a projected high temperature 10+ degrees higher than Saturday’s ride. Wish I had brought more clothing or different clothing or something.
• Ride out to Cheney – enjoy decent weather and good conversation; notice cooling temperature and building wind speed; contemplate a new nickname for myself or TP – Tailgunner – since both of us seem to be constantly working into the rear spot in the group the most protected from the wind.
• Have Rider 1 say, “Hey, I think you can take the city limit sign” as I was in the rear and no one ever sprints for city limit signs in our group. Brashly dart around group to be first to city limit sign, marking the first appearance at the front of the group since the ride began. Some would call this poor sportsmanship, but Rider Two defended it with Merckx’s words that a win is a win, no matter how gained. That’s why I like Rider Two and Merckx.
• Head out of town on the Frozen Flatlands short road race course with a serious tailwind. So serious that it incites Rider Two to take the pace up to 30-31 mph. Sustained for miles. That’s why I hate Rider Two. The group strings out into single file and I am second. The only good thing about that is that when I literally yell, “UNCLE”, Rider Two hears me and slows way down – to 28 mph.
• Turn the corner across the freeway and head directly into the teeth of a wailing, howling and cold headwind. Re-secure my spot at the back of the group whenever I can subtly take it from TP.
• Realize that Salnave Road back into town is going to be the most open and windy part of the trip. Dread it for miles before we get there, hate every foot of its undulating, miserable tarmac, and then, inexplicably, move to the front of the group next to Rider Two for the first time in 30 miles as the city limit sign appears. Discuss looming city limit sign with Rider Two and then not subtly brake to make sure that I don’t get there first, at the same time Rider Two brakes, which not subtly causes our teammates to exclaim as they ram up our proverbial tailpipes.
• Look at threatening sky and get pelted with first rain/ice/hail drops. Discuss quick stop at store to get food and install any additional clothing. Have sky open up and completely soak each of us in the few thousand yards between this discussion starting and the store.
• Stand at the store wondering if it would look bad to my teammates to call my wife and ask her to pick me up in Cheney. Stare back at shoppers pointedly looking at us or commenting on our idiocy as the wind/rain/sleet picked up velocity.
• Inadvisably leave the shelter of the store to ride back home, only to be greeted by increasing wind/rain/sleet/hail.
• Become completely and absolutely soaked to the bone from wet and wind. Wonder why we ride bikes except in August. Wonder why God hates us. Wonder what it would feel like to pull over and go to sleep in a ditch never to wake again. Wonder why we ever agreed to go on this stupid damn ride. Wonder why weather forecasters can’t ever get the forecast right. Wonder why we ever trust weather forecasters when we already know that they never get the forecast right. Wonder whether hypothermia can kill you at the same time you ride a bicycle. Wonder whether the drooling is helping or hurting the situation. Wonder when Cheney became 11,000 miles away from Spokane.
• Finally arrive back in Spokane as wind and rain subsides and the sun starts to come out.
• Coldly, numbly, haltingly peel off wet clothes with non-functioning fingers. Put on other clothes.
• Have a special and delicious meal together at Rider Two’s home prepared by Rider Two’s indulgent wife.
• Contemplate how you can go from feeling so bad to so good. Wonder whether it would be impolite to slowly and quietly get off of dining room chair at Rider Two’s home and go to sleep on the floor near the fireplace.
I guess the moral to the story is, all’s well that ends well. I guess it was a hella good plan.
Rider Three
Here was the plan:
• Meet downtown since team sponsor The Scoop isn’t open on Sunday yet (winter hours, don’t ya know);
• Ride out to Cheney;
• Ride the short road race course from Frozen Flatlands;
• Ride home;
• Have a special and delicious meal together at Rider Two’s home prepared by Rider Two’s indulgent wife.
Sounds like a hella good plan right?
Here was the reality:
• Meet downtown since team sponsor The Scoop isn’t open on Sunday. On the way there, notice that the wind is very biting and cold. Colder than the day before, even though the temperature was supposed to be 10+ degrees higher.
• Think about the amount of clothing you wore, based on a projected high temperature 10+ degrees higher than Saturday’s ride. Wish I had brought more clothing or different clothing or something.
• Ride out to Cheney – enjoy decent weather and good conversation; notice cooling temperature and building wind speed; contemplate a new nickname for myself or TP – Tailgunner – since both of us seem to be constantly working into the rear spot in the group the most protected from the wind.
• Have Rider 1 say, “Hey, I think you can take the city limit sign” as I was in the rear and no one ever sprints for city limit signs in our group. Brashly dart around group to be first to city limit sign, marking the first appearance at the front of the group since the ride began. Some would call this poor sportsmanship, but Rider Two defended it with Merckx’s words that a win is a win, no matter how gained. That’s why I like Rider Two and Merckx.
• Head out of town on the Frozen Flatlands short road race course with a serious tailwind. So serious that it incites Rider Two to take the pace up to 30-31 mph. Sustained for miles. That’s why I hate Rider Two. The group strings out into single file and I am second. The only good thing about that is that when I literally yell, “UNCLE”, Rider Two hears me and slows way down – to 28 mph.
• Turn the corner across the freeway and head directly into the teeth of a wailing, howling and cold headwind. Re-secure my spot at the back of the group whenever I can subtly take it from TP.
• Realize that Salnave Road back into town is going to be the most open and windy part of the trip. Dread it for miles before we get there, hate every foot of its undulating, miserable tarmac, and then, inexplicably, move to the front of the group next to Rider Two for the first time in 30 miles as the city limit sign appears. Discuss looming city limit sign with Rider Two and then not subtly brake to make sure that I don’t get there first, at the same time Rider Two brakes, which not subtly causes our teammates to exclaim as they ram up our proverbial tailpipes.
• Look at threatening sky and get pelted with first rain/ice/hail drops. Discuss quick stop at store to get food and install any additional clothing. Have sky open up and completely soak each of us in the few thousand yards between this discussion starting and the store.
• Stand at the store wondering if it would look bad to my teammates to call my wife and ask her to pick me up in Cheney. Stare back at shoppers pointedly looking at us or commenting on our idiocy as the wind/rain/sleet picked up velocity.
• Inadvisably leave the shelter of the store to ride back home, only to be greeted by increasing wind/rain/sleet/hail.
• Become completely and absolutely soaked to the bone from wet and wind. Wonder why we ride bikes except in August. Wonder why God hates us. Wonder what it would feel like to pull over and go to sleep in a ditch never to wake again. Wonder why we ever agreed to go on this stupid damn ride. Wonder why weather forecasters can’t ever get the forecast right. Wonder why we ever trust weather forecasters when we already know that they never get the forecast right. Wonder whether hypothermia can kill you at the same time you ride a bicycle. Wonder whether the drooling is helping or hurting the situation. Wonder when Cheney became 11,000 miles away from Spokane.
• Finally arrive back in Spokane as wind and rain subsides and the sun starts to come out.
• Coldly, numbly, haltingly peel off wet clothes with non-functioning fingers. Put on other clothes.
• Have a special and delicious meal together at Rider Two’s home prepared by Rider Two’s indulgent wife.
• Contemplate how you can go from feeling so bad to so good. Wonder whether it would be impolite to slowly and quietly get off of dining room chair at Rider Two’s home and go to sleep on the floor near the fireplace.
I guess the moral to the story is, all’s well that ends well. I guess it was a hella good plan.
Rider Three
Thursday, March 24, 2011
Wine, Women and Wheels in Walla Walla
This is my first post as a member of Team Two Wheel. I am also a member of Zuster Cycling –a women’s team based in Spokane with a membership of avid road, mountain and cyclocross racers. In search of Spring, 10 of us roadies headed to Walla Walla last weekend for 3 days of riding the rolling rural roads in warm(er) temperatures.
Yes, there was some drinking of the fine beverages produced locally –we managed to visit 5 wineries in 2 days. No, we did not ride to the wineries. It is hard to fit more than 2 bottles in a jersey pocket, so we did our tasting in the afternoons after riding.
Our group rented a giant house south of town. Friday morning was sunny, but the blades of the wind turbines marching up the Oregon hillsides were generating some serious juice. We headed out on the Waitsburg Loop –a classic Walla Walla route on a must do list for rides in the region. After skirting around downtown Walla Walla, our ride mistress Nattie K. (a Cat. 2 road racer) sent 4 of us off the front with the idea of organizing a group to chase us down. After a half hour or so, we started chatting and sight seeing and sort of forgot about being the break away group. Before long, 2 members of the chasing peleton were in sight and we happily let them join the group and share the work for the remaining rollers on the way to Waitsburg. A “must see” in Waitsburg: there is a camel (1 hump) in a pasture just south of town. He is also sometimes seen strolling down the main drag with his owner.
After re-grouping, we started the return trip with a long climb out of Waitsburg. Remember the mention of the whirling wind turbines? Well now it was time to pay the piper. Four of us worked together into the gusty headwind howling up from the wilds of eastern Oregon. That song from the late 70’s started going through my head: “Short people got no reason…” Two riders in my group top out at about 5 foot 2 if they really tease out their hair. At 5 foot 9, their drafting effect on for me was limited to my hips and knees. Let’s just say that the fine wine drunk later in the day was earned and appreciated.
Saturday’s ride took us a way I had never ridden before. We made a loop out to the west and then headed south to Milton-Freewater. Does anyone know what the deal is with the frogs in Milton-Freewater? Not live frogs, these are human sized figures that pose in front of nearly every business in town. There is even one fishing off a bridge and another half way up a telephone pole.
Didn’t see one on a bike, though. We followed the road to its end at Harris Park as it wound up the Walla Walla River Canyon. A long gentle climb, a fun twisty decent, very few cars –big fun!
Our fantasy of spring riding died on Sunday when we rolled out into the 32 degree morning, rode around the block and back to the house to layer on more clothes. Mittened and balaclavaed, we headed south and east into the wheat fields and vineyards. The wind turbines were still –hallelujah – but heavy snow/rain clouds over the Blues suggested that we trim the ride from 50 to 35 miles. BTW, the little handlebar mounted Garmins are really great for this. All you need to do is hit the “home” button.
I can’t say enough about the quality of riding around Walla Walla in every direction. Tons of rural roads, very little traffic, gorgeous scenery, a milder climate and it is only a short 2 and a ½ hour drive away. This is the 3rd year I have gone for early season training. I am heading down again for a weekend in April. And oh yeah, those wineries. On this trip, we sampled the product at Bergavin, Tertullia, Dusted Valley, Patit Creek and CAVU. The winemaker and owners were pouring at 4 of the 5 wineries. I mention them all by name because their wines are terrific, they are small business owners and if you support the Buy Local and Farm to Table movements, visiting these wineries and buying some wine (which you will once you taste it) is a great way to do it.
As my husband always says to me when I head out the door on a ride, “Keep the rubber side down.”
-Wella Clairol
Yes, there was some drinking of the fine beverages produced locally –we managed to visit 5 wineries in 2 days. No, we did not ride to the wineries. It is hard to fit more than 2 bottles in a jersey pocket, so we did our tasting in the afternoons after riding.
Our group rented a giant house south of town. Friday morning was sunny, but the blades of the wind turbines marching up the Oregon hillsides were generating some serious juice. We headed out on the Waitsburg Loop –a classic Walla Walla route on a must do list for rides in the region. After skirting around downtown Walla Walla, our ride mistress Nattie K. (a Cat. 2 road racer) sent 4 of us off the front with the idea of organizing a group to chase us down. After a half hour or so, we started chatting and sight seeing and sort of forgot about being the break away group. Before long, 2 members of the chasing peleton were in sight and we happily let them join the group and share the work for the remaining rollers on the way to Waitsburg. A “must see” in Waitsburg: there is a camel (1 hump) in a pasture just south of town. He is also sometimes seen strolling down the main drag with his owner.
After re-grouping, we started the return trip with a long climb out of Waitsburg. Remember the mention of the whirling wind turbines? Well now it was time to pay the piper. Four of us worked together into the gusty headwind howling up from the wilds of eastern Oregon. That song from the late 70’s started going through my head: “Short people got no reason…” Two riders in my group top out at about 5 foot 2 if they really tease out their hair. At 5 foot 9, their drafting effect on for me was limited to my hips and knees. Let’s just say that the fine wine drunk later in the day was earned and appreciated.
Saturday’s ride took us a way I had never ridden before. We made a loop out to the west and then headed south to Milton-Freewater. Does anyone know what the deal is with the frogs in Milton-Freewater? Not live frogs, these are human sized figures that pose in front of nearly every business in town. There is even one fishing off a bridge and another half way up a telephone pole.
Didn’t see one on a bike, though. We followed the road to its end at Harris Park as it wound up the Walla Walla River Canyon. A long gentle climb, a fun twisty decent, very few cars –big fun!
Our fantasy of spring riding died on Sunday when we rolled out into the 32 degree morning, rode around the block and back to the house to layer on more clothes. Mittened and balaclavaed, we headed south and east into the wheat fields and vineyards. The wind turbines were still –hallelujah – but heavy snow/rain clouds over the Blues suggested that we trim the ride from 50 to 35 miles. BTW, the little handlebar mounted Garmins are really great for this. All you need to do is hit the “home” button.
I can’t say enough about the quality of riding around Walla Walla in every direction. Tons of rural roads, very little traffic, gorgeous scenery, a milder climate and it is only a short 2 and a ½ hour drive away. This is the 3rd year I have gone for early season training. I am heading down again for a weekend in April. And oh yeah, those wineries. On this trip, we sampled the product at Bergavin, Tertullia, Dusted Valley, Patit Creek and CAVU. The winemaker and owners were pouring at 4 of the 5 wineries. I mention them all by name because their wines are terrific, they are small business owners and if you support the Buy Local and Farm to Table movements, visiting these wineries and buying some wine (which you will once you taste it) is a great way to do it.
As my husband always says to me when I head out the door on a ride, “Keep the rubber side down.”
-Wella Clairol
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