Like all of us, I battle with things. Every freaking day, I battle with both things we can all see and touch and some things we can’t see and touch. I mention this as I have zero intention on delving into a diatribe around my “feelings,” but rather, I felt like making mention of the constant battle of cycling and the need to improve.
Now, let me start by saying there is absolutely nothing wrong with striving to improve. Maybe it’s just a part of us as Americans that we constantly feel the need to do everything progressively better and better, but what’s wrong with that? Nothing, I say, but one can definitely take it too far. What do I mean by that? I mean that I believe the desire for improvement may often overshadow the enjoyment that comes with particular endeavors—endeavors like cycling.
It’s important, REALLY important, to keep in mind how much enjoyment can be had from tossing a leg over a bike and pedaling through five, ten, fifteen, twenty, thirty, fifty, or even eighty miles (as insane as that may sound). It’s important—to me, at least, which is my usual disclaimer—to occasionally hop on the bike and just go for a ride without a pre-set agenda, without the heartrate monitor, and (god forbid), without the computer. I believe this is part of the reason why people own fixed-gear and/or single-speed bikes.
Now I’m not going out for a quick leisure ride tonight as tonight’s a night for improvement overall via intervals on the freaking trainer. Sounds like fun, doesn’t it? Jealous, aren’t you?
Tuesday, October 30
Sunday, October 28
Me and the GWB
I went riding today and while I realize that a ride in and of itself is not exactly exciting news, it’s a matter of where I went riding that makes it mildly entertaining. After spending the night in the city--in the Upper West Side, specifically--I hit the road at seven-thirty this morning and made my way along Riverside Drive to the George Washington Bridge, into Jersey, and eventually back into New York just south of Nyack.
And that was it. That was my ride. Fifty-one miles later and three hours later, I returned to 72nd Street and Broadway.
(Another quick thanks to Benny for the bag of Clif products. After an hour-and-a-half of riding, I pulled over to chow down on a bag of lemon-lime Clif Shot Bloks to keep the energy up on the way back into the city. LOVE those things!)
A bit chilly this morning, no? Windy as well? During the approach to the GWB, I found myself a bit worried the wind might carry me over the railings and into the Hudson River, although oddly, the wind was the worst on Riverside Drive and not as brutal while crossing the bridge.
Apart from the rather uneventful yet entertaining ride this morning, my gearing seems to be a bit messy once again. I would have to imagine I need to fine-tune the rear derailleur with the barrel adjuster considering I’m getting a bit of chatter in the crank arms when they’re under stress, meaning when I’m pushing the pedals harder rather than pushing them lighter. My first thought is that the chain may be jumping the tiniest bit while toward the top end of the cassette, but the derailleur is shifting fine when I was working on it Saturday night. Again, it’s only when I’m on the road and actually pedaling that I can both hear and feel the chatter, but it was really breaking my concentration this morning, enough to make it that much less of an enjoyable ride.
Over the past year, I haven’t had the best of luck with Shimano gear. The next bike--assuming there is a next bike--may be Campagnolo. Give that stuff a shot. Dr. Rob seems to swear by it, so maybe there’s something in that.
And FYI, I realize I’ve been a bit lacking in my blog update responsibilities, although I promise to work on that and get these things up with some more regularity. And I also promise to try and make them a bit more interesting as well.
And that was it. That was my ride. Fifty-one miles later and three hours later, I returned to 72nd Street and Broadway.
(Another quick thanks to Benny for the bag of Clif products. After an hour-and-a-half of riding, I pulled over to chow down on a bag of lemon-lime Clif Shot Bloks to keep the energy up on the way back into the city. LOVE those things!)
A bit chilly this morning, no? Windy as well? During the approach to the GWB, I found myself a bit worried the wind might carry me over the railings and into the Hudson River, although oddly, the wind was the worst on Riverside Drive and not as brutal while crossing the bridge.
Apart from the rather uneventful yet entertaining ride this morning, my gearing seems to be a bit messy once again. I would have to imagine I need to fine-tune the rear derailleur with the barrel adjuster considering I’m getting a bit of chatter in the crank arms when they’re under stress, meaning when I’m pushing the pedals harder rather than pushing them lighter. My first thought is that the chain may be jumping the tiniest bit while toward the top end of the cassette, but the derailleur is shifting fine when I was working on it Saturday night. Again, it’s only when I’m on the road and actually pedaling that I can both hear and feel the chatter, but it was really breaking my concentration this morning, enough to make it that much less of an enjoyable ride.
Over the past year, I haven’t had the best of luck with Shimano gear. The next bike--assuming there is a next bike--may be Campagnolo. Give that stuff a shot. Dr. Rob seems to swear by it, so maybe there’s something in that.
And FYI, I realize I’ve been a bit lacking in my blog update responsibilities, although I promise to work on that and get these things up with some more regularity. And I also promise to try and make them a bit more interesting as well.
Monday, October 15
Changing Colors
It was maybe two weeks ago that I happened to take a good look at my mountain bike leaning against the wall in the basement--the same bike I’ve ridden maybe three times since buying it earlier this year--when I thought to myself, You know, I really should carve out some time to get on that thing again before it gets too cold.
Sure enough the opportunity arose. Yesterday morning my lady friend Stephanie and I hit the road and headed north (actually, we first had to drive south until we made a right onto 287 West and then another right onto 87 North) up to the New Paltz area to do some off-road riding with a crew composed of Dr. Rob, his wife Cecilia (apologies if I misspell any names), Anne D., Benny and his wife May. Were we all riding? Nope. The girls, with the exception of Anne, went out for some hiking around Lake Minnewaska and then shopping through town while Dr. Rob led the rest of us through the trails, but before I even get started on that, Benny and May presented us with a mussette all but stuffed with Clif bars, Clif gel shots, and Clif shot blocks while we were getting ready.
“Mother of God,” I mumbled under my breath, my eyes feasting on the horde of nutritional goodies. Grabbing some orange Shot blocks and a vanilla gel, we were ready to roll.
We hit the road and got the legs warmed up with a ten-minute climb up to the trail. It’s never easy to start a ride with that much climbing, but sometimes you just do what you have to do, especially when the air’s as cool as it is and you know you’re in for a hell of a day.
(Honestly, my only concern starting the ride yesterday was that terrible duo, Dr. Rob and Anne. If those two nut jobs decided at any point to put the hammer down, I knew I’d be in for a painful morning. Thankfully, neither of the two decided they were in the mood to try and kill me, so it all worked out for the best and I can actually walk today.)
Overall, we had an unbelievable day, at least in my opinion. The weather cooperated, none of us had any mechanicals, no one crashed (except Anne, and I wouldn’t exactly call her tip-over a crash considering we were doing all of 3 MPH heading up one of the steepest parts of the trail and she was laughing as she went down), and everybody made it to lunch. Is that a good day in the mountains? I would say it is. I would say it was a terrific day.
Wait. I forgot about the traffic on the way home. Ah well. Sometimes you have to take the bad with the good. Know what I mean?
After roughly three-and-a-half hours on the bikes and a much-needed lunch at the Gilded Otter--where we met up with the ladies after their excursions--we were done for the day when that fabulous mussette that Benny and May had so graciously offered earlier in the day came back out of Dr. Rob’s trunk.
“Take the whole thing,” Benny offered. “I’m swimming in that stuff.”
“Are you sure?” The man had might as well just presented me with a check for a million dollars.
Anne didn’t want any and neither did Dr. Rob. “Are you sure?” I asked everybody again. I should’ve asked Stephanie to pinch me just to make sure I was awake. In the bag were at least half a dozen Clif bars, just as many gels, and a lot of Shot blocks.
“Take it,” Benny said.
That man now has a friend for life.
Below are some pics . . . oh, wait. I almost forgot the donuts. The girls picked up a box of apple cinnamon donuts in town before lunch. Polishing one off, Stephanie and I hopped in my truck. On the way out of the parking lot, I rolled down my window when Dr. Rob offered me another donut.
“Man, this was the best day EVER!” I said, grinning from ear to ear and stuffing my face with yet another donut.
Anyway, below are the pics from our excursion. Looking forward to the next round, amigos!
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You know what? I probably should've taken a picture of all that stuff Benny and May brought, not to mention those donuts.
Sure enough the opportunity arose. Yesterday morning my lady friend Stephanie and I hit the road and headed north (actually, we first had to drive south until we made a right onto 287 West and then another right onto 87 North) up to the New Paltz area to do some off-road riding with a crew composed of Dr. Rob, his wife Cecilia (apologies if I misspell any names), Anne D., Benny and his wife May. Were we all riding? Nope. The girls, with the exception of Anne, went out for some hiking around Lake Minnewaska and then shopping through town while Dr. Rob led the rest of us through the trails, but before I even get started on that, Benny and May presented us with a mussette all but stuffed with Clif bars, Clif gel shots, and Clif shot blocks while we were getting ready.
“Mother of God,” I mumbled under my breath, my eyes feasting on the horde of nutritional goodies. Grabbing some orange Shot blocks and a vanilla gel, we were ready to roll.
We hit the road and got the legs warmed up with a ten-minute climb up to the trail. It’s never easy to start a ride with that much climbing, but sometimes you just do what you have to do, especially when the air’s as cool as it is and you know you’re in for a hell of a day.
(Honestly, my only concern starting the ride yesterday was that terrible duo, Dr. Rob and Anne. If those two nut jobs decided at any point to put the hammer down, I knew I’d be in for a painful morning. Thankfully, neither of the two decided they were in the mood to try and kill me, so it all worked out for the best and I can actually walk today.)
Overall, we had an unbelievable day, at least in my opinion. The weather cooperated, none of us had any mechanicals, no one crashed (except Anne, and I wouldn’t exactly call her tip-over a crash considering we were doing all of 3 MPH heading up one of the steepest parts of the trail and she was laughing as she went down), and everybody made it to lunch. Is that a good day in the mountains? I would say it is. I would say it was a terrific day.
Wait. I forgot about the traffic on the way home. Ah well. Sometimes you have to take the bad with the good. Know what I mean?
After roughly three-and-a-half hours on the bikes and a much-needed lunch at the Gilded Otter--where we met up with the ladies after their excursions--we were done for the day when that fabulous mussette that Benny and May had so graciously offered earlier in the day came back out of Dr. Rob’s trunk.
“Take the whole thing,” Benny offered. “I’m swimming in that stuff.”
“Are you sure?” The man had might as well just presented me with a check for a million dollars.
Anne didn’t want any and neither did Dr. Rob. “Are you sure?” I asked everybody again. I should’ve asked Stephanie to pinch me just to make sure I was awake. In the bag were at least half a dozen Clif bars, just as many gels, and a lot of Shot blocks.
“Take it,” Benny said.
That man now has a friend for life.
Below are some pics . . . oh, wait. I almost forgot the donuts. The girls picked up a box of apple cinnamon donuts in town before lunch. Polishing one off, Stephanie and I hopped in my truck. On the way out of the parking lot, I rolled down my window when Dr. Rob offered me another donut.
“Man, this was the best day EVER!” I said, grinning from ear to ear and stuffing my face with yet another donut.
Anyway, below are the pics from our excursion. Looking forward to the next round, amigos!
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You know what? I probably should've taken a picture of all that stuff Benny and May brought, not to mention those donuts.
Monday, October 8
Down South
Saturday morning, I found myself back on Staten Island with my gear and my bike, ready to ride from New Dorp to St. George to whatever that industrial / junkyard area near the Bayonne Bridge is called to the Outerbridge past the mall down Arthur Kill Road up those godforsaken hills to the bagel shop and down Hylan Boulevard back to New Dorp.
Riding in Staten Island is always something of an adventure. If the gas-guzzling SUVs illegally hopping across the double-yellow line to speed head-on into bicycle traffic (meaning us) and blast through steady red lights don’t provide enough entertainment, all that’s required is a keen ear to absorb all the conversation one would never hear during a group ride with the Westchester Cycling Club. For example, after coming to a stop, Kelly realized a screw had embedded itself into her rear tire.
“I got screwed and I didn’t even realize it,” she said, to which someone else responded, “You going to try and pull it out or are you just going to leave it in?”
Apart from that, what I definitely don’t miss are the potholes. That’s not to say upper Westchester is pothole free, because it’s certainly not that, but after two-and-a-half hours on the road in Staten Island, I was amazed my bike was still in one piece.
So that happened. And other things happened, but nowhere near as exciting. I read on VeloNews.com that Johan Bruyneel may lead the Astana team and he may take Levi Leipheimer and Alberto Contador with him.
A quick word about Contador. I may be repeating myself here, but does anyone really believe that a twenty-four-year-old kid was in a position to beat a guy like Michael Rasmussen (who was probably swimming in EPO and other doping drugs) on natural ability alone? I think not.
And if Leipheimer’s going with Johan, does that mean Mr. Leipheimer’s comfortable and confident in Bruyneel’s ability to get his riders doped up as efficiently as possible without getting caught? I think so.
More on that. Take a guy like Basso who tells everyone, “Fuentes had my blood but I never doped. I only intended to dope.” Do Basso and his lawyers and the media actually expect us to believe a bunch of crap like that? They expect us to swallow a line like that after Basso absolutely destroyed everyone in the Giro? Are you kidding me?
I think I’ve been reading too much on professional cycling racing. I really need to tone it down, or better yet, just tune it out. While I enjoy watching some cycling on TV every now and again—and I admit to owning the 2006 Tour de France 12-hour DVD set—it really doesn’t do much for me when it comes to my own cycling, so why bother?
Riding in Staten Island is always something of an adventure. If the gas-guzzling SUVs illegally hopping across the double-yellow line to speed head-on into bicycle traffic (meaning us) and blast through steady red lights don’t provide enough entertainment, all that’s required is a keen ear to absorb all the conversation one would never hear during a group ride with the Westchester Cycling Club. For example, after coming to a stop, Kelly realized a screw had embedded itself into her rear tire.
“I got screwed and I didn’t even realize it,” she said, to which someone else responded, “You going to try and pull it out or are you just going to leave it in?”
Apart from that, what I definitely don’t miss are the potholes. That’s not to say upper Westchester is pothole free, because it’s certainly not that, but after two-and-a-half hours on the road in Staten Island, I was amazed my bike was still in one piece.
So that happened. And other things happened, but nowhere near as exciting. I read on VeloNews.com that Johan Bruyneel may lead the Astana team and he may take Levi Leipheimer and Alberto Contador with him.
A quick word about Contador. I may be repeating myself here, but does anyone really believe that a twenty-four-year-old kid was in a position to beat a guy like Michael Rasmussen (who was probably swimming in EPO and other doping drugs) on natural ability alone? I think not.
And if Leipheimer’s going with Johan, does that mean Mr. Leipheimer’s comfortable and confident in Bruyneel’s ability to get his riders doped up as efficiently as possible without getting caught? I think so.
More on that. Take a guy like Basso who tells everyone, “Fuentes had my blood but I never doped. I only intended to dope.” Do Basso and his lawyers and the media actually expect us to believe a bunch of crap like that? They expect us to swallow a line like that after Basso absolutely destroyed everyone in the Giro? Are you kidding me?
I think I’ve been reading too much on professional cycling racing. I really need to tone it down, or better yet, just tune it out. While I enjoy watching some cycling on TV every now and again—and I admit to owning the 2006 Tour de France 12-hour DVD set—it really doesn’t do much for me when it comes to my own cycling, so why bother?
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