Category Archives: Rituals

Will it Fit

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“Will it fit”, Renate asked?

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The boot of the Fiat 500 is quite small and is perfect size for lunch, a raincoat and a briefcase or a small grocery run. That is about it.

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“No Problem”, I replied.

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Create necessary space buy folding back seats forward and then the same for the passenger seat.

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Cover the leather and possible contact points to safeguard against soil and abrasion. I used a furniture pad.

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Easy to insert with rear wheel intact.

In the early eighties I drove an acid yellow ‘72 super beetle that I loved dearly. I could be seen pulling my ’83 Ciocc Mockba 80 out of the backseat in preparation for the weekly club time trial.  When I returned to cycling in 2009, I was transporting that same Ciocc and later my Mooney in the boot of my 2008 Audi TT. I know how to fit a bike into tight places.

To my delight, I was able to fit the Mooney into the Fiat with the rear wheel intact. No hitch to be installed, No rack required. Perfect.

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Front wheel is secure.

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Plenty of space for my Rapha soigneur bag containing my cycling gear and post ride change.

Yesterday is the first day on the bike in 2016. The routine was a bit rust
y, finding this, collecting that, was a clumsy exercise in preparation. I took the bike trail from Galbraith Rd to the golf course. The ride is a false flat descending to Newton, Ohio. The wind on my face welcomed me to the ride, my legs quickly found their cadence and the bike performed flawlessly. The green canopy was a most appreciated barrier to the sun and the gradient was perfect for the first ride of the season.

I concentrated on cadence and form rather than power and pace. It was easy to find the gap in the stroke as the absence of feeling the power transfer from foot to pedal indicates the kinetic chain is broken. The back, when rounded, puts unnecessary stress on the disks. Extending the back slightly, and then arching the head and neck by imagining that a string is connected to the forehead and is pulling the head forward, provides a more relaxed and comfortable riding position. This also improves power transfer by providing a strong, solid platform for the hips to leverage the strength of the legs against. Scrunching the shoulders causes tension and expends unnecessary energy. Relaxing the shoulders and pulling them down away from the ears provides a relaxed form. The hands should be resting on the handlebars or hoods with elbows bent, prepared to absorb the shock from the road. Change hand positions often. Finally, keeping the cadence high minimizes the stress on the joints as the body becomes accustomed to work again. Addressing these failures in form early in base training guard’s against injury and accelerates improvement. It is a lot to focus on at once and honestly I cannot. I cycle through them like a recurring checklist.

After the ride, I made haste to satisfy my thirst and hunger. It has been a long time since I was able to down a burger, soda and fries without the subsequent lead belly and regret that follows. As Peter Mooney reminds, “Ride to eat, Eat to ride”

Ride On

 

Mt Dora – Day Three

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Sunday morning finds me drinking beet juice in the dark.  Yesterday’s metric has left me with fuel in the tank and ready to take on the 40 miles out to Sugar Loaf Mountain and back. Today is less about enjoying the ride and more about getting it done, packing up and driving 4 hours south home to Miami.

Still the weather is perfect for a ride and we travel at a pretty steady 20-22MPH for 15 miles out to where the climbing begins.  We hit a mile long hill leading to Sugar Loaf with a 2.7% grade. I struggle to hold onto wheels and loose some ground in the group whilst other riders slide on back. One of which is the huff and puff dude from yesterday’s ride shouting in recognition, “I remember you” as he is dropped without remorse. A short descent provides some respite just before the base of Sugarloaf. The 9% incline slows me down to a crawl while I watch manorexic sons of amateur racers float effortlessly past.  Some quick math reminds me this will all be over in just ten minutes as I make new pledges of dietary discipline.

A well placed and crowded rest stop atop of the climb has everyone filling bottles, eating bananas and lining up at the port-a-johns. The mood is relaxed and quite social, so I take my time and partake in some idle conversation. It is not long before a small group prepares to roll, quickly I lineup and leave with them avoiding the crowd that will soon follow. We head out to take on the final climb of the day affectionately known as “The Wall”.

Once again it begins; chains begin dropping on a 2% climb preceding The Wall. On a 2% climb! The pace line splays open like buckshot forcing me to dodge the chain droppers and other riders scattered across the tarmac in an effort to remain upright and unscathed. Another descent brings me to the base of The Wall where I prepare for the 8% climb with a steady pace in the saddle; no attack, just spinning through. My pace is slow but I feel no pain. As I approach the top I have a rider passing with intent. slowly I stand up and raise the pace just enough to leave him behind. No hero here, just a little selfish pride.

I return to Mt Dora in the comfort of a small group. Stories of chain droppers can be heard as volunteers serve up some soda and brats cooked to perfection. Now the race to beat check out time begins with a quick shower and ends with the key in the mailbox. I say goodbye to The English Rose Cottage I called home for the last three days, turned the key, dialed in the tunes and pointed the Explorer south.

“Have tunes, Will travel”, I whisper with a nostalgic grin.

Mt Dora – Day One

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Taking off on a road trip and especially one that leads to a three day cycling weekend fills me with anticipation. I left work early to do some last minute packing and head north on a four hour drive to Mt. Dora. There is some mysterious and inexplicable force that pulls at me, holding me back, slowing me down, and keeping me from escaping the comfort of home. There is always one more thing to pack, to do, and check before I bounce.

Once on the road the sense of freedom engulfs me as I enter the freeway and gain cruising speed. Old school music streams down from the heavens and through the speakers adding to the road trippin’ vibe reminding me of old times with the Rudy’s. “Have tunes, will travel” was announced before every trip and just prior to inserting the latest cassette tape.

The morning’s ritual includes donning brand new Rapha Classic kit purchased and received just in time. The folks are keeping a gentleman’s pace as we ride through some residential areas and around East Crooked Lake beneath tree cover dripping with moss. It is a beautiful, cool morning. Heading north we crossed a highway and turned west towards Lake Eustis this time with the sun warming our backs. The lake is glowing a turquoise blue usually reserved for the Caribbean ocean and what little ripples exist are gleaming with a bright yellow and Chartreuse green stained by the sun.

As we roll up and over the first set of hills we ride tempo along a huge rolling pasture lined with horse fence. The sun continues its magic across the open field. “A perfect day for riding” is being muttered throughout the peloton. The tempo quickens and so silences the group. A series of rolling hills increases the effort even more creating gaps in the pace line. I lose the lead group reminding me I am not the man rider I was just 12 short months ago.

After rolling into town and receiving a post shower massage I am greeted by Sal and family, David and Marilyn. Sal invites me to join them for lunch and we sit on the shade covered patio of Cecile’s French Corner and casually pass the time away with conversation and crepes. I couldn’t think of a better way to spend a Friday afternoon.

Friday Night Ritual

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Another Saturday rolls up on me fast. Labor Day Monday’s tempo ride was awesome and I was happy to see that my power numbers are on the rise. The balance of the work week finds me in the gym on a Wednesday night which was a prelude to a difficult and failed attempt to complete 2 X 15 minutes of Threshold intervals on Thursday. It’s a little hard to take but I am learning to let these things go.

My Friday night ritual starts with a rather intense hour at the gym. “Basic Pushing and Pulling” is what my trainer calls it.

Yes, I said trainer.

No, I am not headed for the Nationals nor do I have any delusions of grandeur.

If it were not for Thomas I would not make it to the gym consistently if at all and I certainly would not work beyond 30 minutes at the intensity we work at for a full hour. He is the best trainer I have ever contracted, knowledgeable, serious and devoted to me for the entire time I spend with him. Thomas is a quiet gentleman that leads by example rather than bark orders from the sidelines and knows when to push me hard or when to modify an exercise to meet my current fitness level. His depth of knowledge and experience affords him the capability to train a client to meet the client’s needs rather than stick you in a “one size fits all” training plan. He does however emphasize all our work outs around muscular balance thereby reducing the potential for injury and maximizing my potential for power. The excercises he encorporates are sometimes complex which makes them difficult yet all the more compelling. He the architect and I the brick layer have together built a structure that I can rely upon during my training on the bike.

Besides……despite statements to the contrary…… girls like guns

and an Andy Schleck wannabe I am not.

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The ritual continues with basic bicycle maintenance. It is important that everything is working properly during a Saturday morning group ride as nothing ruins a good ride faster than a crash caused by a mechanical or being dropped for the same. The majority of maintenance one must endure is cleaning the bike and drive train. Throw in an occasional adjustment to a derailleur or brake cable and you have it covered.

I live in a high-rise condo so access to an outdoor faucet or garage to clean and maintain my machine is non-existent leaving me to maintain my bike in the living room overlooking Biscayne Bay and South Beach. To facilitate this work I set up and secure my bike on a Park PRS-20 Repair Stand , wipe her down with a Velo-shine wipe, clean the chain with a Park Cyclone Chain Scrubber  and Finish Line Degreaser, and wipe the chain with a standard bar towel. I give the degreaser a chance to dry before applying Chain-L chain lube. This whole process takes maybe 10 minutes when I am focused but distractions like the finishing sprint at the Vuelta or the death of another terrorist type on Strike Back tend to prolong the activity. So I give myself a 30 minute block of time at least once a week or every 100 miles for basic bike maintenance. You should too.

This Friday I had a little extra time and energy so I laid out my kit, gear and nutrition in preparation for the morning’s ride.

Good thing too.

Saturday Morning Group Ride

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Five Thirty comes early on a Saturday morning. I take 20 minutes to sip the morning brew in the darkness while I stare at the wall covered in ink drawings, photographs and lithographs. I remain in a dream like state as I reminisce about how or where I found each piece. Surprised at how much I can remember…the day, the smells, the light, who I was with, and what I was feeling, I am thankful that they are there hanging on the wall in front of me. I look to the blank space on the wall and wonder what is next. This is how I start each morning suspended in the past, absent from the present and anxious for the future.

So starts the pre-ride routine that prepares me for a 3 hour tour of the Miami flatlands. Another 30 minutes has me filling bottles, laying out my clothes, nutrition, and gear. I procrastinate a few moments, as I always do, just prior to slathering on the chamois cream and sunscreen.

Then it’s, Kit UP, Pump Up and GO!

I haven’t made a Saturday morning group ride in over 10 months. Carless roads, cool summer breeze and a beautiful Miami sunrise greet me as I make my way through the city towards the meet point at Miami City Hall. I miss these quiet moments on the bike. The city has its own morning rituals. The young stumble out of the clubs, the long shore men line up for selection and the homeless begin to wake from their temporary beds. It is still too early for shops and bakeries to open but some coffee can be found if you know where to look.

This is a new group for me, an aspiring group of 20 riders in the 18-22 speed range. A collection of men and women of different sizes and shapes leave as scheduled. We rode out to Black Point with a sprint that topped out at about 25mph. The ride leader launched from the group with no chase. I looked around….anybody…anybody? Nobody chases. So I jump, bridging the gap and maintaining at 25 for a few hundred yards until we settle down at about 23mph for the remaining distance. This is a far cry from last year’s 34MPH top end and 23-26MPH cruising speed. Its ok, it is not all gone, I can work with it.

Todd Gogulski commenting on the Vuelta quotes Jonathan Vaughters.”The mind of the professional cyclist is a fragile thing”. He adds his own philosophies on the importance of a positive mental attitude and how it relates to Chris Horner’s chances of reclaiming the red jersey.

On the return trip, I begin to lose patience with the gaps in the double pace line and the accordion affect it creates. I pull out and up to the front alongside the group leader and stay there for the remainder of the ride. The group leader, a Hungarian supply chain professional, is a chatty guy so we hold a conversation while keeping a 20-21 mph tempo. We quickly find common ground and enjoy a work related discussion that makes light the effort on the bike. I’m reminded on how cycling is really a community of strangers and how cyclists in general are an amicable group.

I return home to a hot bath and some much deserved rest.

I sleep  dream the rest of the day away.