"Ride Safe." "Call out hazards." These were basic reminders to me and my 8 riding companions by my buddy Pete Templin. Pete is the co-Chair of the Ride Marshal initiative for the Valero Bike to the Beach. So I know I'm in good hands.
My mantra: "Be one with the bike." How different can it be from the bike I rode last in 1968? Ouch! Short of using a John Deere tractor seat, nobody could have prepared me for the butt-bone ache I experienced throughout much of the 30 miles of the ride. But my fellow road combatants reassured me that the ache will pass after about 300 miles or so, after I’ve “become one with the bike!”
“Pauline, are you there?”
The early part of the outbound ride was pleasing. Cool breezes, gorgeous countryside, and the ever-present whooshing noise of the wind passing through my helmet strap and over my ears. A unique experience; I was one with the road.
Now the left brake handle controls those big cogs at the front (3 of them), and the right brake handle controls all those gears at the rear, you see I did learn something. So that sounds easy enough. I quickly learned that you have to use authority as you twist either brake handle to shift…otherwise you’re left literally spinning, slowing and with nowhere to go very quickly!
With encouragement from Pete--who I felt bad with him hanging at the back of the pack with yours truly--I gradually “became one with my bike” and did shift with authority, though still uncertain about which direction to shift and when, though the “why” became obvious very early on.
The mid-way was The Pie Shop or the Cake Shop or the something or other like that where they sell good pies. I surprised myself by feeling full of vigor and ready to keep going. I was glistening from the effort, and was equally surprised to walk after dismounting. I had this vision for 48 hours leading up to the ride of rubber legs, but that didn’t eventuate. We rested, Pete lined up two pieces of chocolate pie, I bonded with my other ride teammates. Hit the head, surprised I still had feelings in that area! Topped up with water and ice and hit the road again.
The second-half of the return ride was exhilarating for the first half mile, which was a slow decline, and “with authority” I shifted to the Big Ring and mashed. Wow, speed at last (remember this is downhill)!
I’m not using clipless pedals yet. Remember, I’m not “one with my bike” yet, so remembering to “shift with authority” is what’s on my mind, not remembering to unclip! But the cages I’m using allow my sneakers to occasionally move closer to crank arm, and so my bike will begin to rhythmically squeak, as the rubber of my sneaker sole rubbed against the metal. It was quite funny, because the Society tells you to “listen to your bike” so you can identify potential problems before they become problems.
Anyway, I readjusted my foot positioning, and the squeak stopped. But by this time, my forward momentum was slowing and I frantically, without authority, shifted out of the Big Ring to my “Granny” savior…my thighs now felt like they had been impaled on the fork Pete had used earlier to eat his chocolate pie.
And so it was for the remainder of the back-leg of the training ride, trying to maintain an efficient cadence, with images of forks stuck in both thighs, and smiling at and agreeing with those around me on how good I looked considering this was my first ride for more than 40 years. Eleven MPH later, I can’t wait for the next training ride.
My mantra: "Be one with the bike." How different can it be from the bike I rode last in 1968? Ouch! Short of using a John Deere tractor seat, nobody could have prepared me for the butt-bone ache I experienced throughout much of the 30 miles of the ride. But my fellow road combatants reassured me that the ache will pass after about 300 miles or so, after I’ve “become one with the bike!”
“Pauline, are you there?”
The early part of the outbound ride was pleasing. Cool breezes, gorgeous countryside, and the ever-present whooshing noise of the wind passing through my helmet strap and over my ears. A unique experience; I was one with the road.
Now the left brake handle controls those big cogs at the front (3 of them), and the right brake handle controls all those gears at the rear, you see I did learn something. So that sounds easy enough. I quickly learned that you have to use authority as you twist either brake handle to shift…otherwise you’re left literally spinning, slowing and with nowhere to go very quickly!
With encouragement from Pete--who I felt bad with him hanging at the back of the pack with yours truly--I gradually “became one with my bike” and did shift with authority, though still uncertain about which direction to shift and when, though the “why” became obvious very early on.
The mid-way was The Pie Shop or the Cake Shop or the something or other like that where they sell good pies. I surprised myself by feeling full of vigor and ready to keep going. I was glistening from the effort, and was equally surprised to walk after dismounting. I had this vision for 48 hours leading up to the ride of rubber legs, but that didn’t eventuate. We rested, Pete lined up two pieces of chocolate pie, I bonded with my other ride teammates. Hit the head, surprised I still had feelings in that area! Topped up with water and ice and hit the road again.
The second-half of the return ride was exhilarating for the first half mile, which was a slow decline, and “with authority” I shifted to the Big Ring and mashed. Wow, speed at last (remember this is downhill)!
I’m not using clipless pedals yet. Remember, I’m not “one with my bike” yet, so remembering to “shift with authority” is what’s on my mind, not remembering to unclip! But the cages I’m using allow my sneakers to occasionally move closer to crank arm, and so my bike will begin to rhythmically squeak, as the rubber of my sneaker sole rubbed against the metal. It was quite funny, because the Society tells you to “listen to your bike” so you can identify potential problems before they become problems.
Anyway, I readjusted my foot positioning, and the squeak stopped. But by this time, my forward momentum was slowing and I frantically, without authority, shifted out of the Big Ring to my “Granny” savior…my thighs now felt like they had been impaled on the fork Pete had used earlier to eat his chocolate pie.
And so it was for the remainder of the back-leg of the training ride, trying to maintain an efficient cadence, with images of forks stuck in both thighs, and smiling at and agreeing with those around me on how good I looked considering this was my first ride for more than 40 years. Eleven MPH later, I can’t wait for the next training ride.
2 comments:
You looked much better than I did on my first 30 mile ride! There's going to be a lot of pain along the way, and not just in your thighs. Have you learned the wonders of Butt Butter yet? I rode without it yesterday and suffered. Might be the investment of choice for this week.
Tony, we all say, "It's not how you ride, it's how you look." and you looked good. Keep up the good work, we are very proud of you.
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