New Horizons

I have decided to change the direction of this Blog a tad. Originally I set out to write about cycling in South Texas. Regardless of the thousands of miles I put in riding down here, there is just too much going on in the world of cycling to be so geographically limited. Why this sea change? Another road trip.

My wife and I had to go to Dallas for business. This time I made time to join a friend for a bike ride, something we have been threatening to do for years. Eli hasn't been cycling all that long but has a natural grace and athleticism on the bike and is in much better shape that he lets on. His brother Joe was supposed to join us but had to work, bike tires ain't cheap.

Here is where the concept of cyclists being a family applies. Eli had never ridden with me before and Joe had never set eyes on me. Joe was kind enough to loan me his bike, a nice Carbon Trek blissfully decked out with Campy Record. Eli and I rode 30 something miles around White Rock Lake, it was a beautiful day and perfect weather. That is what is so special about cycling. You can go someplace so completely different from where you live but once you're on the bike it seems as if you belong there. I behaved myself for the most part. I chased down a couple of riders to ask about their bikes or to stretch my legs. There was a guy on the last hill before home. He passed us without saying anything on the flat before the climb. Those of you who ride with me know how much I hate uncivil behavior. Eli told be to go, go, GO! (Eli is a gravity boy) So I spun up the hill and zipped past the rudie. But, since this is the world of cycling, I waited and told him how pretty his bright blue Salsa was.

It is so easy to find a ride just about anywhere. Go on line and ask local bike clubs if they have a ride scheduled. Sometimes there will even be someone who is willing to play guide for you. Bikes can be rented or borrowed. A perfect fit isn't necessary, close works pretty good. I have had just as much fun on a cruiser riding into town for coffee as I've had on a hard race, maybe even more.

Don't wear a groove into the asphalt, go find a new friend on a different road. Just remember to be polite and say hello as you ride by people. They might pass you later.

Road Trip Part 2

I want to return to the road trip and talk about bikes for a while. Oregon has a lot of cyclists. Bikes are regarded as a very viable means of transportation , not something for fools and losers. It took a long time for Oregon to get where they are now as regards cycling and the struggle is far for over. Until gasoline hits $6.00 a gallon, bikes will always be downwind of a tailpipe.

There are three types of bicycles I want to talk about. All three are important to me for different reasons. Co-Motion, Vanilla, and Messenger, do these names ring any bells? I visited the homes of all three on my trip.

Co-Motion in Eugene, was first. I ride a Co-Motion, a fillet brazed Espresso, black and red with Campy. When it came time for me to graduate up to a “real bike” I looked at damn near every thing on the market. Dwan Shepard, co-owner of Co-Motion, is an old friend of mine. When I called him about a new bike all he said was “If you get a Merckx or a Colnago everyone will say cool bike. If you get a Co-Motion they’ll all say what’s that? and you’ll have to show them every weekend.” I got the Co-Motion. Why? Because I believe in friends and in work done right. I have met everyone who worked on my bike and they all thought it was a cool bike. Dwan himself did the fillet brazing. Their factory is still small and they do an excellent job.
http://www.co-motion.com/more.html

I rode with Dwan while in Eugene. I said I was going to Portland and was thinking of going to Vanilla bikes. He knew the owner, Sacha White and that an old intern of his Ben, was working there. I called Vanilla and asked if I could come visit. I was told that would be okay but they were painting the building and there was no sign. I would have to look for a red door and a washer hanging on a string. I found the building, the red door and pulled the washer on the string. someone answered the door and let me into a world of wonder. Sacha builds works of art he calls bicycles. He has an attention to detail that is seldom found this century. If you would like a Vanilla bike you’ll have to wait 22 months. If you have to ask why they are steel, you might have to wait a lot longer. He is not arrogant or aloof , he just would rather spend more time working on his art than explaining it. Something I entirely understand.
http://www.vanillabicycles.com/

Portland also home to messenger bikes. There is no real factory, they come in all shapes and colors. They may have no gears, some gears, brakes or not, cow horn bars, drop bars, straight bars, mustache bars. The fixed gear bikes are supposed to have at least one brake but it might not work. Messenger bikes are born from need. They are mostly functional but show a remarkably diverse range of personal expression. I ride one. I don’t work as a messenger but I love the concept and have an envy of the anarchy associated with the tattooed and scarred messengers.

So is there a moral to this tale? Is there some point to this ramble besides bike lust? There is indeed. Look around before you impulsively buy what the bike mags tell you you should desire. Handbuilt is always better and if you should need to drool, lusting over art is no sin. Messengers? dare to be different, don’t follow the leader, and ride. Ride alot.

"The Toughest 18 Miles in Texas"

One day out of the year. That’s all it really is but it’s a race day. This is what you’ve been training for and it’s time to step up and be counted. Those of us who are amateurs may only race once or twice a year. That one day becomes even more important.

September 30 I raced in the Conquer the Coast Time Trial, in Corpus Christi. It was my one true race of the year. My training was tip top, my nerves were calm, and I sucked. I had high hopes. I wanted to move up a little in my age group standings (Men’s 45-49). Oscar beat me by 16 seconds last year and I wanted to erase that (he’s 16 years younger). I wanted to move up in the overall standings and maybe even beat the big guy, Randy.

The conditions were ugly. There was a little norther promised, nothing but a tease, just like last year. The weather report said 5-10 mph winds, just a tickle. They measured it behind a tall building downtown. The wind, a headwind, was 18 mph at the start and much higher by the end. It was warm and no one did anything to smooth out the chip seal. They did not even repaint the white line so there would be 4 inches of semi-smoothness.

One woman was so concentrated on keeping her head down fighting the wind that she ran smack into the back of a cement truck. It was conveniently parked on the shoulder right in everyone’s way. She left the track on a stretcher. Post race reports say she broke her nose and severely damaged her pride. No word on the bike.

It was probably the worst conditions imaginable for someone my size (135 lbs). Randy smoked the course with a 19.6 mph average. He placed second in his age group (men’s 50-54). Oscar fell victim to a cold and his time doesn’t count. I had an average of 18.9 and finished almost 2 minutes behind Randy. I moved up one place in my age group and lost ground overall.

It was just one day out of 365. We rode our best and everyone suffered. I spent 57:02 minutes at 160 BPM, my max is 170 BPM. I was spinning 100 rpm. I still sucked. At least that is what I will think for a week or too. Then it will be thinking of the next big ride, training for next year and reminding myself, “It’s just one day out of 365”

Conquer The Coast