A decade of 'dude

The exact date itself came and went with almost no mention or fanfare, mostly because I wasn't paying that much attention to personal history or cycling back in July of this year - even though I was riding every day.  With work schedules, blah blah blah;  yeah, we all know I work too much.  That could potentially kick off an entire tangent about work-life balance, and how it can affect one's life and livelihood.  I won't go there, because it's pretty clear - all work and no play makes 'dude forgetful, cranky, loathsome, and anti-social.

Back on track, July 21st, 1999, I took my first ride on a "road bike".  Prior to that, I'd logged a few hundred miles of bike trail stuff on a cheap mountain bike, and prior to that I was in my teenage years riding an even cheaper mountain bike.  I was certainly not "into it" the way I am today, but there were early glimmers: as a not-yet-driving-a-car teen, apparently cycling had a lot of the same allure it does for me today.  The outstanding pre-adult biking milestone I seem to remember was my Dad bragging on me to one of his co-workers:  that summer - er... 1985?... - I had logged about 600 miles on the Indian Creek Trail system on a Schwinn Varsity Junior - a really heavy, red, 24" wheel, 10-speed road bike.  A solid achievement for a youth, but I was not in a position to appreciate it, cherish it.  There was a lot of promise, but I discovered cars and McDonalds and cycling was quickly forgotten.  Instead I gained weight, lost personal motivation, and got to a physical low-point that I don't care to revisit.  While I can't understand my lack of interest today, I do remember the Warbird showing up at my house with his new Trek 450 - which, yes, I ended up with and still have - and I looked it over and was either confused, or utterly uninterested.  In fact, I think I was in the process of washing my car when he'd arrived, if you can imagine.  Somehow, I think it took my total separation from bicycling to get me to a point in my life where I'd end up completely enamored with it again.  Meanwhile, the Warbird was out there with his younger brother, "Shorty", racking up miles, enjoying really early editions of the Cider-Mill Century and the MS-150, back when they gave you sew-on patches instead of lapel pins.  I honestly didn't know what I was missing.  Much later, I met my wife, got re-motivated, changed my situation, and found myself looking at a bicycle again in 1997.  That's the quick version.

Initially I got back on the bike because my 1976 Buick broke down, and I simply had to get to work.  I started back in the saddle as a commuter, indeed.  The Tour De France, I'd heard of it - only from the quick ABC Sports clips of Greg LeMond winning the tour a few years earlier.  Mountain bikes were the hot thing, and most shops didn't even have many road bikes - when it came time to purchase a new ride to replace the one I'd dragged our of my parent's garage for that to-work duty, it was another mountain bike.  For a while there, even after the Buick was running again, I'd drag the Trek 820 mountain bike out and ride to work for the fun of it.  Longer distances?  Speed?  Spinning?  HELMETS?  What the heck were those?  Looking back over the last ten years, I had no idea in early July '99 what was going to hit me.

"You've gotta get a road bike, man... THAT'S where it's at."  

It was Shorty, Warbird's taller, younger brother, that first planted the seed.  The human torque-wrench.  Seriously, it's only because I've never met George Hincapie or anyone else professional in-person before:  but I've yet to meet anyone that has the physique, the lung-capacity, the drive as these two brothers.  I won't bore you with accolades, but I have said it before:  Never have I met more natural cycling potential or prowess than I'd seen between these two brothers.  When you are out-and-out DESTROYED on a climb by someone that lights and smokes a cigarette on the way up, you know you are in the presence of power.  A few changes in personal habits back then, and there's no reason I can see that Shorty shouldn't have been in Belgium tearing up the cobbles on a paycheck.  Warbird, more of the same.  Click, click, GONE.  Even today, I have no doubts - back in May 2000:  a small matter of two months from me waiting for him at the tops of hills, to him being utterly uncatchable.  You can't do that unless you are built to do it.  Without a single day in the gym, these guys have legs that make people rethink themselves - and it's more than appearance.  The techniques, the head-down power sprints, the gut-wrenching, diesel-power, give-it-hell, get-it-on tempo on the flats, and the scream-of-terror, kill-the-hill climbing - these were the first experiences I had with road riding.  It's in my DNA, my upbringing.  For some reason, that's why it's never "good enough".  I ache for the chase because of it.  Even on days when I decide to rest, heaven-forbid I see a cyclist on the horizon, just out of reach - and I throw the rest-day training plans into the fire.  When I wandered into the Bike Rack in downtown Overland Park and picked out that metallic orange Schwinn Passage, I really had no clue what I was getting in to.  But, I certainly found out 

July 21st, 1999;  average speed was 13.5 after 23 miles.  Tennis shoes, toe-clip pedals, gym shorts, ridiculous-looking helmet, t-shirt.  A few months later, I had upgraded the tires, bought my first jersey and cycling shorts, gloves.  At least every three or four days I showed up at the power-brother's home to set out and get my butt handed to me.  Again... and again.  Winter came, and the bike got hung up - and, hard as it is for me to fathom as I write this, there was a time when I almost didn't go back to that road bike.  Spring came, Shorty wasn't riding as much, had work and school commitments, and in early 2000 I wasn't thinking much about riding.  After all, I had just learned that I was going to be a father!  After seven months off the bike, the Warbird stepped in and announced that we were going to ride the MS-150 that fall.  A perfect way to prepare me mentally and physically for raising a family - set a good goal, and go after it.  Training began in May 2000, and it was the elder power-brother's turn to whip my backside into shape.  It worked.  

The rest, as they say, is history.  The first MS-150, the first brevet, Ride the Rockies, ultra-races, commuting farther, longer and more often that ever before, and a totally transformed body, mind and soul.  It changed the way I handle stress, challenges, it molds my kids and sets a solid example, and makes me a better person.  There is nothing about cycling in its essence that is bad.  One has to remember moderation, of course - which may make you raise an eyebrow if you've read these pages for any length of time - but, yes:  family first, indeed.  Using the exercise and fresh air to make you a better person to come home to, etc., that kind of notion is immensely important.  This web page, however, is dedicated to cycling itself - so that notion of family balance may not always be apparent here.  Make no mistake - if the wife ever asked me to stop, I would; but it's up to me to be smart enough not to let it come to that.  Balance.  

On that bombshell, it's a difficult thing to explain the desire to go back to a training regime that would get me prepared for The Texas Time Trials in 2010.  Unfinished business, having seen the trophies - but not been allowed to hold one for my own.  Why do people need these things?  I never was a jock, sporty, or athletic in high school - but there is this desire to compete, to ride for more than just the ride.  This is also a manner of balance, something that the last three years of this "first decade" of road riding has allowed me to play with.  Saddle bags, vintage notions, slowing down and smelling the flowers -- there is absolutely nothing at all wrong with that kind of cycling, and I really enjoy it.  It's tailored my thinking, my equipment choices, and it's molded my appreciation of history - something else that seems to go hand-in-hand with cycling as a pastime.  Going back to what my first experiences in road cycling were like, however, it's small wonder that even on a perfectly empty road I find myself shifting to a harder gear and shoving out just a little bit more tempo.  Go long, go fast.... it's what I like.  

Coming to grips with myself as a person, as a cyclist, finding personal identity out of all of the experiences is what I think I've garnered most out of cycling.  Time and again, a decade of journal entries either spell out or elude to self-discovery, pushing this invisible wall so hard you think you're going to die, and then recovering from it with clarity, purpose, confidence.  I love that.  If you don't like what you find on the other side of the wall, there is often - eventually - some motivation to push at it again, at least for me.  I could go on and on about the metaphors for life, struggle, and more - but you've all read it before.  I keep coming back to it, because there is nothing else that gives back everything you put into it.  You push harder, the rewards are bigger.  You work hard on the bike itself, and you can feel the rewards in the next ride.  All that, and finally learning how to hydrate.  (He,he.)

Data, data, data.  Sometime next Summer I will celebrate my 50,000th mile - at least, that's the total I will have logged since that first road ride in July 1999.  Right now with over 44,000 miles of numbers to poke at, I've started to formulate my 2010 plan.  I've been able to, thanks to BikeJournal and a bunch of .CSV files, extrapolate a barrage of averages, body weights, efforts, heart-rate data, bike usage, bike type in relation to speed, nutrition notes, equipment notes, hydration notes, mental preparation, mileages when, where, with whom.  One thing I have found interesting, and it shouldn't be a shock:  it really ISN'T about the bike.  My averages have had more to do with mental state and body makeup than what was underneath me - and that seems to follow for gearing, also.  I've had fast averages on brevets on single-speed as well as geared bikes, fendered or not, heavy or light, fancy or beater.  It just doesn't matter.  What does matter is health, nutrition (as-in eating right, as opposed to engineered nutrition vs. PB&J, for example), my body weight, hydration, and consistency.  The one chunk of data I'm missing and would REALLY like to have is wattage.  

For a solid comparison of how I performed in one scenario vs. another, the only thing differing being the bicycle, wattage data would help - though I'm certainly not running out to buy a PowerTap hub yet.  Power to weight ratio is essentially everything, and professional racers take this to an extreme by being very fit, very light - yet muscular - and riding the lightest bikes they can get away with.  Many over-estimate the importance of a really light, high-end race bike instead of focusing on the total package.  Yes, the bike can make a big difference when it comes to power output maximization and fatigue-prevention over distance - but that has to be weighed against body efficiency, personal power-to-weight ratio with the bike factored out, and other concerns like ride quality and reliability over distance.  I was thrown initially into assumptions looking back at 2002, 3 and 4 data when I saw high averages at various distances on my old Schwinn Passage - which in it's last incarnation was quite light, and hi-end equipped.  No fenders, no compromises, and race wheels.  So, clearly, I need a race bike again for 2010, right?  

Those assumptions were questioned, however, when I watched my body weight drop off in early 2009, and my speed go back up to the same levels as those earlier years, but while riding a fully-fendered steel road bike with a rack and generator hub.  Having watts data would be interesting, to see if the amount of power I was generating to get "bike A" going those speeds was in an acceptable margin compared to "bike B".  My gut tells me that, at speed, the differences would be difficult to see.  Climbing?  Perhaps.  In the real world, however, put Levi Leipheimer on a fendered steel bike with a rack and a generator hub, and he'd be right there in the pack - no doubts.  He may finish slightly more tired than the next guy - but how do you measure that?  I'm fairly convinced personal fitness has more to do with it than the tools themselves do, in the end.  This is, of course, taking out the small percentages of advantage one rider may have over another with regards to shifting faster (ie, STI shifters vs. bar-ends) - but, we'd be splitting hairs, and that's arguably a true racers concern, in that last, heated sprint.  

For what I want to do, I have a clear picture now of what I need to do to make it happen - and very little of it has to do with equipment. That will not stop me, however, from looking at stacking some of the smaller percentages in my favor:  The same way I wouldn't run panniers during the time-trial, I would be foolish not to at least consider real road pedals and shoes, instead of SPD mountain bike pedals and sandals.  Maybe removing the fenders for the race if the forecast is dry, perhaps the rack as well.  Maybe, just maybe, looking at race wheels.  Maybe even looking at a complete component swap to the waiting Trek 450 frame-set.  They key being, in the last 100 miles of that 500 mile time trial, how will I feel - will I mentally know that I've done everything, assuming I have done everything right for my body first and foremost?  Yes, the right tools for the job are immensely important; but one must remember that the biggest factor is the engine.  I certainly don't need to spend thousands on a new bicycle to get what I'm after:  a finish at Tejas.

It does, sometimes, take thousands of miles to come to these realizations.  Would I change anything?  Doubtful.  Every mile, every friendship, every challenge - it's all been worth it.

Ten years in the books, xxxxxxxx to go....

Thanks for reading. 

Car-Free-to-Work Day #120

The streak continues, modified here and there by work-from-home days and one incident of car-pooling to date. But to the crux of the "goal", and for qualification, I'm certainly not "car-free" - but I am "car-free to work". This basically indicates that I have travelled to and from work without driving a car, and on work-from-home days, well, yeah - I'm not going anywhere. On the carpooling occasion, I woke up after being sick for several days and simply didn't "feel" it… so, with come creative planning I was dropped off at the office by the wife while she was in transit to her job… which, bless her, is in the opposite direction from our house. Not the most responsible choice, but at the time it seemed quite necessary. Needless to say, however, that won't be happening too often. If I run into a day like that again, the bus will take on that duty. The work-from-home days are really handy and, assuming I don't blow too many of them, will come to my rescue on a few nasty winter weather days - which are sure to come eventually.

Speaking of nasty weather, I'm ready now, also, to continue the streak into the winter - really prepared, for once. I have a dedicated bad-weather bike again, a modified mountain bike, and I have invested in studded snow tires. I'm told that this may be largely overkill - but it's something that I'll have to determine on my own. With the huge swaths of ice I saw last year that continued for dozens of yards in the shady areas of the bike trail, I don't think I'm totally unfounded. The streets, once plowed, will largely be passable - as I've managed every season to date on "normal" tires. It's those few nasty days that always seemed to force me into the car that I'm trying to get around. As long as I can get to a bus stop, and limp my way home on the iced over trails in the afternoon, I should be able to stay car-free until Spring. It won't always be fast-going, but it will be fun.

To my surprise the streak has become easier to maintain if for no other reason that its become absolute habit. With my mother-in-law having possession of my car since the 2nd week of June, there simply hasn't been a temptation to drive. There's no car in the driveway, and that - more than anything - has been a motivator. Now, this solution is potentially impractical for a lot of folks, so I will say a few things: be ready, but don't OVER commit. If you're considering commuting a good deal, you should allow yourself a reasonable back-up strategy. That may-well involve having a car in the driveway just in case. Until you have performed the necessary experimentation with time management, route planning, and having reliable equipment on hand, don't go nuts and sell the car. Give it time. That almost goes without saying, because we definitely live in a society where a car is a requisite, and commuting to work by bike or not - may would never consider selling off the car, even if it sits for a few months at a time. Having said that, NOT having that car staring at me (in my head) while I sleep through a thunderstorm-rich night, knowing I'll be very wet and quite chilly the next morning helps keep the streak alive. My stress levels have dropped, I feel good, and I've been able to maintain a healthy weight. Life, it seems, is good.

On the other hand, since I simply don't have the option of a car a lot of my activities have been tapered WAY back. I don't "go on drives" anymore. I've said "no" to countless after-work activities. I still try to stay active in the bicycle route-planning realm, but I don't have a way to "pre-drive" a route anymore - so I haven't designed many new routes in the last six months - sure, I could just pre-RIDE them, but at the 200K level and with my schedule, that becomes problematic. Also adrift is my old knowledge of where certain things are, what is located next to what, things like that. I haven't been to Microcenter, for example, since May. I haven't been to Acme Bicycle Company since probably before then, even. These things have become too far outside my radius of activity! Things like that have been hard to jostle with at times. I know my route to and from work, and every inch of the surroundings: but little else. There is construction happening, old stores close, new ones open - and I have no idea about any of it. So, one might ask - am I punishing myself? Olathe is a nice town, otherwise I wouldn't raise my kids here --- but there is SO little to DO, unless you have a car to get to it. Everything else of worth is downtown, midtown, and I simply haven't been doing much of anything since this streak started. I'm actually surprised I was able to make it to a couple bikes rides here and there, like in Merriam (the Dark Side Cave Ride) and one in Peculiar (the MS Ride), but other than that I've been hanging it up on the weekends. So, there is potentially an all-or-nothing kind of thing happening here. I think it's an "I know better" problem - i.e., the tribal hunter in the rainforest doesn't know it's 2009 in America and he could be kicking back at a bar Twittering his friends, and therefore, his existence is completely satisfactory. For me, being car-free in such a sprawled-out town was almost exactly like self-inflicted punishment.

Thankfully, our family does have one car - and even though I don't use it to get to and from work, I have used it for other things here and there. The Completely-Car-Free streak broke along with my son's arm in early September when I drove to the hospital - no regrets there. But, trying to restart a car-free streak? In Johnson County, KS?… the notion is becoming quite a stretch, but "car-free-to-work" is entirely possible so far. What's been SUPER nice is one car payment, one oil change, and one trip to the gas pump. Looking forward to brevet season, things might be a little weird, and I see myself either getting the car back from my mother-in-law, or buying something like a cheap pickup truck to ferry me and my bike back and forth to remote start locations. Burnout becomes a question, also - but so far, so good: come next Spring, without the ability to "rest" by getting to work by car, can I keep it going? Can I really expect to ride to work the Monday after a 600K weekend? I know I probably could, sure… but should I? If Tejas in 2010 is the goal, is there a problem developing here? Should I go for the 365-day streak, one-year of not driving a car to work, and then taper WAY back? There is a lot to sort here. Can I be an ultra-distance racer, AND a full-time commuter? At the very least, I would like to get back to a situation where I can ride to work every day of a week, and still have the energy and motivation to rise early on a Saturday or Sunday and ride with some good friends again. I've missed that immensely.

For now, it's been neat to see the changes in the seasons up close, back on the bike trail with nature (ok, Johnson County's business-park version of nature, true.) to watch the deer clustering, the squirrels gathering, the leaves change and fall, the birds becoming a little hectic, and the birds of prey beginning to be especially watchful. This is a great time of year.

Stay tuned...

Following up, and circling back.

Police and Cyclists reach agreement, from KCBike.info

I felt it important to follow up on this interesting piece that seemed to catch the attention of cyclists and non-cyclists alike in and around the KC Area back in August.  When this story broke, I collapsed into my usual holier-than-thou tirade about this particular group and their behavior, and I must be clear: at the time, that was my gut reaction, seat-of-the-pants, stream-of-consciousness take on the situation.  No apologies for that.  I was frustrated at FAR more in the world than the fact that some cyclists ran a red light, and got ticketed.  I think I used the story as a punching bag of sorts.  I'm far to retrospective for my own good sometimes.

However, it is both interesting and encouraging to note that the parties involved and the head of their club has taken to the negotiations chair, has been active in the system since the incident, and has drafted up agreements with the Prairie Village Police Department outlining ways to improve the situation.  It was also very nice to see at the end of a couple news articles, and to hear at then end of a couple newscasts, that "the majority of cyclists in the area are doing things right."  That felt good.  

Am I right all the time?  Certainly not.  Do I *always* stop at stop signs?  Yeah, yeah, I've done the "safe roll-thru" before, as a commenter mentioned previously.  I'm not infallible - especially since my reaction to their actions appears that I fancy myself as such.  I think a lot of my comments on this blog have gone against my "mission" of engaging and joining cyclists together, regardless of discipline and riding style.  In a couple of hastily written paragraphs, I have done quite a bit to drive rifts back into the atmosphere of local cycling, and I can feel it in interactions I've had since that post.  For that, I do apologize, because its intent was never personal.

Humbly, I know full well that in the grand scheme of things the opinions and observations made inside this blog do not amount to much, and they won't prevent people from riding, and (sadly) may not encourage many to ride either.  I have no illusions that this is some high penetration publication that somehow affects the way local cycling happens, nor that my opinions will be given any more weight than a single pixel on a screen.  Like I'd mentioned in the original post, the offenders may not have even read it.  My point is, if I don't have anything nice to say - then what am I writing about?  This is not supposed to have ever been a scathing opinion page.  There are many that started reading this blog on one premise, and some of that has changed over time.  My sincere hope is to start adding positive value again.  Life is full of far too much strife, argument, woe, and outburst - why do I really need to log in and rant on about how the entire fabric of society coming unwoven because someone ran a red light?

No, it's not a full time job, and this is not a sanctioned publication - which goes to why it took so long for me to follow up on this story.  This is nothing more than a personal blog, a personal journal that I started because I enjoy writing about cycling, the things I see, the struggles I've overcome.  It's an homage to the people that first encouraged me to ride, way back when, written in hopes that it might encourage someone out there that is just starting out to take that next corner and see what cycling brings to them.  Corny as it sounds cycling really changed my life, who I am, how I think, how I go through my day.  The friendships that I've made on the saddle are worth far more than whether or not I weigh in on every cycling incident that comes down the pipe.  The positive aspects are far more important to share, and that's my intent going forward.

Thanks, as always, for reading.

What happened to fall?

Well, all estimations seem to be holding true, that this winter 2009-2010 will be especially... errr, "robust"?  Maybe that's not the right word.  I still can't help wonder how nasty things might get, as the summer was relatively kind, everyone seems to be of the opinion that we skipped fall, and we've already seen below-freezing temperatures long enough for the NWS to raise a "freeze-warning" a couple nights ago.  When we technically arrive at winter on December 21st, I have a feeling that multiple days of negative-degree temperatures will probably accompany it.  Sure, I've been wrong, and part of me hopes I am.  We've been treated to 50's and 60's on New Years' Day in the past, you all know.  I was blessed last year with fairly easy passage through November and December's 200k brevets, and had an equally good time on the January edition.  This time around, I get the notion that studded tires may not be considered overkill, and that I'm not completely daft for trying to source some Pogies for the new winter bike.  

So far, so good, however.  After having a rough couple of weeks losing a family member and coming down with a very nasty sinus infection that knocked me to the dirt for about five solid days, I'm back on the bike for the first time since the MS-Ride wrapped up.  Actually, I rode on Monday and Tuesday of the following week, despite feeling really weak... I think perhaps the onset of my illness was beginning to creep in.  After recovering from my illness, the first tastes of winter for commuting.  Wednesday, pre-dawn, with a temperature at the garage door of 34ºF and a light north wind, it was like I had emerged from a sickness that had lasted all of fall, and I had woken up in early winter.  Things went well, however.  Thursday, rain entered the forecast.  Although I was definitely on the mend, it was a little harrowing returning from the throes of sinus-ville to ride a bike in the rain.  Seemed like a dumb idea, but no consequence - other than a dirty bike, and very cold limbs.  Thursday was a double commute, also, which represents my only real "suck-it-up" comfort issues that I can't seem to get around.  I arrive at work at job #1, and have plenty of time to get my cycling gear to dry before the afternoon ride home.  If it's still raining in the afternoon and I have to get to job #2, things will suck.  the commute window between jobs is pretty slim, but thankfully when it's raining (oddly) there is less personal cleanup to perform, so changing and being ready-to-work comes faster.  Getting things to dry out, however, is a challenge.  Even the most technically advanced fibers won't completely dry from a rain-soaked state in a three hour window, at least not without help.  But, in a shop devoid of fans or space heaters or an easily accessible ventilation system vent, it's hard.  I've tried wrapping things like the shorts, socks, leg warmers in a large bath towel and rolling it up, squeezing it here and there to wick off the excess - which works a little, but the rest has to air-dry - and that's usually the problem.  Nothing is quite as difficult, or as uncomfortable, as pulling on cold, wet cycling togs.  You just have to, again, suck it up, pull them on and wait for your body heat to begin warming the layers a little...only to go right back outside into the rain.  At least, in that case, you are still wet and prepared for it.  If it's just dry and cooler and windy, as it generally is after a front passes, it depends on which way the wind blows as to how pleasant or unpleasant that last leg homeward is.  I've begun to wonder, especially for the coming winter, how much space I could take up to make a drying box, fan box, or something similar for the shop - or maybe just hit craigs-list and snag a cheap clothes dryer.  That probably won't fly with management, but oh how sweet that would be to toss some cold layers into the dryer to prep for the ride home!  I'd be pampered!  Until then, I keep running the old Survivorman mantra of "you sweat, you die" through my head as I embark into sub-freezing temps in already-wet wool and lycra.  Adventures in hypothermia.  

It takes me back to the notion that the best things in life truly are simple:  a hot shower.  a blazing fire in the hearth.  an old bathrobe.  slippers.  All steeped in the notion that while getting into a car is easier, I chose the road less traveled by.  The romanticism of it all, sometimes that alone is enough to keep me on the bike in this weather.  

The weekend of the MS-Ride was "interesting" to say the least.  Not really prepared yet for cold-and-wet, I decided to take things to the next level and ride myself and all my gear to the MS-Ride start line, early Saturday AM.  I rose at about 3:00am after getting everything ready the night before, and departed east for the Ray-Pec high school, the start line.  Everything in Olathe and Overland Park was fantastic;  151st street was completely abandoned - and I didn't see my first car until I was many miles east near State Line. Problems started almost immediately thereafter.  My usual "route planning" routine involves plotting things out on Google Maps, checking mileages and such, and then pre-driving the route to make sure it's A) paved, and B) not closed for construction.  Since I haven't had access to a car for step B since early June, that critical next-step has been impossible to perform.  Further, none of my weekend riding or other adventures has had me this far east in almost a year.  It was a dice-roll from the start, but I expected reasonable results.  Once you get on the other side of state line, however, the roads begin to take less-obvious trajectories, following the land instead of the prescribed grid of the Kansas Side.  Makes for very cool riding, but becomes frustrating when you need a detour.  

At 151st and Kenneth road, I could see the amber flashers of the road closed barriers from a mile away.  "Uh oh...", I thought. Normally, this would only mean a mile detour in any direction, sometimes less with side streets.  But, there are no side streets here.  Not heading east, anyways.  Heading south, I would overshoot my eventual target of 215th and School Road by a long shot.  The only reasonable option on the map was heading through Cleveland, MO., and I didn't have time for that much of a detour.  I didn't want to miss the start, or the breakfast I'd want to help push me the extra 103 miles to Sedalia once I got to the start line!  Thankfully it was early enough, traffic was still essentially non-existent, so I decided to divert north to 135th Street, aka. MO-150 highway.  

It's so much nicer of a road than it used to be, that's certain.  With a new, long bridge over the Blue River and a wide shoulder, it's more than I could have hoped for from MoDOT when it was built.  The road it replaced was nearly impassible by bike, but I kinda miss that lonely blinking yellow light that used to hover above Holmes Road, and some other intersection closer to US-71.  Many, many drives with Dad out to Richards Gebaur to see the air-shows, leaving pre-dawn to guarantee good parking and a good spot on the flight-line, that road was a neat trip down memory lane... and thankfully, I still have my memories.  The new road, it's handy if you have to use it by bike, and at 4:15am it was perfect.  Two cars, total...and I exit at "D", or Holmes Road.  

Highway D is another road that is not terribly kind to cyclists.  Not until you get WAY south of town, certainly south of the aforementioned Cleveland, MO.  It's been improved, and thankfully now there is a nice, rideable shoulder - but my concerns shouldn't be too bad at this hour.  Unfortunately, a very thick fog has settled in, and I can barely see.  Which means, my taillights and even my flashing white fog beacon probably can't be seen too well, either.  Two cars pass, and they seem to see me and edge over to the middle of the roadway.  The third, however, about a mile later, clearly doesn't see me.  Either coming off the late shift, the drunk shift, texting, who knows.  Tires on wet, grooved pavement approaching from the rear - you can tell from the pitch if they are adjusting their speed.  I've become rather attuned to it over the years.  I'm in the lane, because it's 4:30am or so and I can, but I can tell - this person isn't slowing at all... and at the last second or two I decide to get to the shoulder.  It was a wise move, because two seconds later the space I previously occupied was filled with car.  No room at all.  I feel the wind, the rush of mist in its wake, and the suddenness of it snaps me alert.  No waving finger, no yelling, no weaving, no horn, and no change in speed... nothing like that at all... they just flat didn't see me.  It reminds me not to be complacent.  Maybe I seem a little gun-shy, but of the thousands of miles I've covered on the Missouri lettered highways system, certainly on roads narrower than this one, often without a shoulder, I've maybe only had that happen one other time.  In the middle of all this, somewhere, I have missed my turn east.  Looking for 155th street, but knowing I'd surely gone too far, I arrive at 174th Street -- MO-58 highway, towards Belton.  I'll take it.

After crossing over the railroad tracks on a nice long bridge, I'm at Prospect Road.  It reminds me that in retrospect I probably could have taken the Dark Side Ride route to get here, since I was now overlapping it -- but during planning, it was clear that my original route would have been miles shorter, taking advantage of roads that were normally not bike-passable.  I remind myself of the fact that at least I had known the DSR route wasn't closed.  A fact I smack the handlebars about when I see signs indicating that 163rd street is also closed.  Granted, I'd already passed it anyways - but I'd need it for the ride home from the MS event.  Ugh.  "Crowbar is driving me home from this," I mumbled to myself.  This was a one-way ride, and there was no way I was going to ride these roads in the afternoon safely.  The notion was confirmed over and over the farther east I went.  Fog, hills, big potholes... a neat road, Cambridge - which skirts Belton on the south edge - but not so fun discovering it for the first time in the middle of the night, in the thick fog, with truck traffic suddenly coming from somewhere.  At least they were all courteous, and at least they did see me.  Confirmed my suspicions about the other car back on highway D, because the fog was far thicker now.  There was so much glare-back from my headlight now, I really didn't know what I was riding into.  Man, this is getting old.  

Finally, I could see and hear US-71, which meant I was edging closer to the frontage road that would take me to 195th street, under the highway, and finally to my final destination.  It just seemed to take forever, and there were more construction cones appearing.  Dang!!!  At least I was catching this workzone at the END of work, and the pavement was in-place, smooth, and OPEN.  Finally I was starting to see the rotating flood-lights from the start line.  About 30 minutes of harrowing frontage road later, and more early-morning traffic - thankfully all headed towards the ride start, so they were very bike-friendly - I arrived!  Whoooo!  Amid absolutely zero fanfare, I rolled up to the luggage truck, and offloaded the nearly 40 pounds of crud from the rack.  Time for breakfast!!!!

The ride itself was awesome - and without getting into to exhaustive of detail, it was a good test for what I have to do to prepare for next years Tejas 500 attempt #3.  Day one, hardly any wind, good temperatures and just a prefect day once the fog burned off and things warmed a little.  I managed to pull off a 17.7 average, which I'll take.  No pacelines, no drafting at all, and certainly no tailwind.  Considering I hadn't done anything longer than 50 miles since May, I felt good, strong, comfortable.  Not really pushing, just rolling out a good, even, sustainable pace:  perfect for ultra-distance racing.  Day Two, a wicked headwind from the west kicked up in the afternoon, and my average dropped to 16.6 by the end of the day - but again, a true soloist's test:  no pacelines, no drafting - just me and the wind.  Compared to last year, I felt spectacular at the last rest-stop.  Before, I felt drained, toasted, smoked.  Despite the pushing into the wind for dozens of miles, I felt fresh at the finish.  No special nutrition, and basically straight water - the one thing I did avoid actively was Gatorade.  No cramps, nothing of the sort - so my dietary electrolyte intake was right on the money.  A good test... now I just need to keep the edge honed over the winter, eat right, rest, and prepare for a fast brevet series in the Spring.  I can't exactly go do the MS route 5 times, but I can plan for a straight-thru 600k in May, and then fast 200Ks until next September.  I feel good about this next year... heck, I feel good about THIS year.  Even if I don't have a goal, even if I don't race Tejas next year, I feel in the best shape of my cycling life - which I haven't been able to say in many years.  Feels good.  

Thanks for reading!  Dress warm, and get out there!  There is still season left to ride!  

 

MS Ride weekend... And the change that comes with it.

Time and time again, here in the midwest, here on this weekend, things change. No, its not really all that cold all of the sudden. No, its not the official arrival of fall that makes any difference - but its close to the mark. There are slips of cirrus at 20,000 feet, icy but beautiful and sweeping. There is a snap to the morning air that almost requires a higher collar... and the high collar feels good. There is a layer of leaves on the bike trail that gives a satisfying wake to the normal silence of rubber on asphalt. The birds are in a rush, and the squirrels. In the west today there is a roll to the skies and a greyness that speaks softly, but clearly. The sunsets are piquing interest, and suddenly it seems there is a reason to pay attention to them: tonight it dips just a degree or two south of due east. The rain tonight feels thick, heavy, chilly. Wool. Coffee.

Like so many years before, I love this weekend. The unabated joy of a well-supported century. Its a great ride, a great cause, and a challenge to keep going. Keep going? Something always changes after this weekend. Something always gets harder, the commutes more strenuous for some reason. Nothing specific... Just "me" more often than not. But, the season - the freshness of it, the chance to wear cycling clothes that not everyone can justify owning, the chance to keep a streak going, the chance to soak up a season the way most people that choose cars won't. Enjoyment and perfection aren't synonymous - just because its raining and gloomy, just because its not 85 and sunny, doesn't mean its a bad time to be outside. Our existance, and what we feel... it is still a gift. It is meant to be enjoyed.

I recommend enjoying it on a bicycle, of course. Get out there.

World Car Free Day

World Car-Free Day!

Heck, I just stumbled upon this... unfortunately, if you're already at work - this might reach you too late!

But, join the party... run an errand by bike this evening!

What's the big deal?

This webpage, my Facebook pages and posts, and my general presentation to the world, is largely centered around bicycling. I've always had a strong passion for it because of what it's done for me physically, mentally, and spiritually. I have fond memories of it, for the things and places I've seen, for the people I've met along the way - lifelong friends; bonds grown through struggle, sweat, and triumph over odds - and more often than not, simply because we shared something on the open road that can't quite be described. Hard to believe, but there is more to life than riding. I'm good at it, and - yes - it's a part of my everyday life - but there is more to "me", I promise you. Ditching the car and commuting, and occasionally riding a ridiculous distance on a bicycle does nothing more than help define my existence, and makes me a better person. The phrase "it's not about the bike" comes to mind - because, really, it truly isn't and shouldn't be. I love far more what a bicycle does for me, than I have love for the thing itself.

Possibly contradicting this is my passion for old classic bicycles, but it's not really about the physical item there, either: I like antiquity, good design, and the notion that every ounce of elbow-grease you put into restoring a classic bicycle is given back when you ride it. Little else created by man can do that. Perhaps a well-made and tailored suit and the way it can transform its wearer; a classic hand-made car (not the mass-produced, stamped-out throwaways of the last 45 years) and how it can incarnate so much feeling with only a turn of a key; my boundless love for music and the instruments that create it - how a simple wooden tube with holes in it can enlighten an entire village of people; cameras, and how their complex collection of electronics and/or mechanisms and lenses creates nothing more than flat rectangles of tiny colored dots... but, O!, the power of coming across a long forgotten photograph!

I think it could be summed up by saying that I have a vast appreciation for instruments of any kind: anything physical that is well made, well designed, and can be used to create something else which can't quite be described. After all, music is nothing more than vibrations. Riding a bicycle does nothing more than physically move you from one place, to another - and, by today's standards, slowly. So what's the big deal? Ah.... that IS the question. The performance, the feeling, the emotion... the intangible. The very notion that something inanimate can produce something else, unseen and unpackageable, which grows greater in worth than the collection of parts that created it.

This short interview with one of my - dare I say it: heroes? - highlights some of this thinking, and should serve to remind us not to be one-dimensional, not to be about so much what we do - but who we are, and why we do what we do.

There is an 'advertising' sort of feel to this piece, the motivation of the interview drawing on the hopes of a traditional whiskey manufacturer to juxtapose their product with the mystique of the interviewees notions of what defines a "classic". I would greatly enjoy seeing this individual interviewed by someone such as Charlie Rose, for example - but this will do. What is said therein is worth noting, and has some weight to it even if it's been said differently 1,000 times before; the sum total is a repeating theme that I try to use as a mantra for my own journey, in hopes that if someone were to ask me who I am, I could muster an answer.

At the end of the day, are you happy? Is your family happy? Did you DO something? Did you feel anything? If the answer to any of these is "no", change it.

Enjoy this link to interview: http://www.webcastr.com/videos/news/les-stroud.html

.

Axiom Monsoon & Typhoon Storm-Front panniers: 1-Year review

Since the first nomads packed up their things and moved from one place to another, portage has been important. Bags, sacks, duffels, panniers, trunks, steamers, suitcases, etc. I love bags. I love the functionality, the versatility, and the variety. For just about ANY activity imaginable there is an associated "bag" of some kind. Bicycling is certainly no exception, and certainly commuting by bicycle creates the widest array of bicycle portage options. I've tried many over the years, and this most recent set of bags is coming upon its first birthday, so it's time to assess their condition and make note of a few items.

My last set of bags had to do a few things: Be tough, carry everything I needed to handle a two-job commute, be waterproof, and be out-of-the-box visible without resorting to my usual additions of reflective modifications. Ortlieb was certainly on the short list, as was Arkel and my old favorite Carradice - but they were each out of the budget. Further searching found me looking at Axiom's website. A Canadian company, Axiom has been in the business for a while, and seemed to make solid stuff. Their Storm-Front line of bags seemed to hit the same marks as the Ortlieb bags, and were more economical. The panniers in the Storm-Front line up come in two sizes: the Typhoon, at 2032 cu.in. per pair, and the smaller Monsoon at 1510 cu.in. per pair.



My criteria resulted in the purchase of the Axiom Typhoon panniers in bright red. My bike is not a true touring geometry, however, and I quickly found heel clearance to be a daily problem with these monsters. I passed these on to a friend, and opted for the smaller Monsoon bags. The storage capacity proved more than adequate for my commuting needs, and the heel clearance issue was eliminated. For the purposes of this review, the only difference between the two bags are their sizes - so I have no doubt that had I owned the larger bags for this same time period with the same usage, the results would have been the same. To be clear, the comments that follow are specifically about the Monsoon panniers.

Waterproofness sometimes comes with compromise, and this is clear with most dry bags and the like in the marketplace. Seams are the enemy, unless specific (and expensive) materials are employed, like I've seen used in the Carradice bags. Axiom uses a roll-top design for their main compartment, which is a proven method for keeping water out. Combined with their use of ultrasoncially welded and lined tarpaulin, the main compartments of the bags operate as-advertised: completely waterproof when closed. After riding through snow, and nearly every gradient of rainfall from sprinkles and mist to all-out downpours and thunderstorms, I have yet to find a single droplet of water inside these bags, or absorbed into anything I've carried inside them. Even on the stormiest mornings I've arrived at work with dry clothes. The trade-off for this kind of all-weather performance is a lack of versatility with regards to storage options in the main compartment. Many bags have inserts of some kind, zippered pouches and pockets along the outside, or similar, and these bags do not. You essentially have one, big pocket on each side of the bike. I was more than willing to trade these features, however, to be able to ride regardless of the conditions without changing anything about my routine. No fumbling with rain covers, seam sealants, plastic bags for the clothing, or rushing to re-pack when storms move in. Granted, many a commuter has had success with non-waterproof bags and combinations of internal protection and covers over the years - but I definitely wanted a no-compromises, weather-proof FIRST bag - and these have met that mark nicely. I'm so routine-based in the mornings on my rides to work, the less I have to fumble with simply because it's pouring rain, the better.



Aside from the main compartment mentioned above, part of the design of the bag involves a large flap that covers over the roll-top closure, offering even further protection to the primary contents of the bag. This flap "completes" the closure of the bag with a large quick-fasten buckle, and is trimmed with a molded-in zipper pocket on the outside, and a sewn-in mesh pocket on the inside.



The inside mesh pocket is handy for storing items that don't mind moisture. Contents are protected, largely, simply because they are on the underside of the flap - but tire spray and simply moving through the air might invite moisture in, so pack accordingly. I use this large pocket for documents (inside a plastic baggie) if I happen to be carrying any, like letters or mail. In one of the bags, I use this mesh pocket for storage of my rain jacket in cooler months, and it's perfect for that. I can stop, undo the flap, and retrieve my jacket without putting the contents of the main compartment at risk, which is really handy.

The outside zipper pocket is smaller, but easy to get to. I use this for smaller, thinner items that I need quick access to once I arrive at the office - things like my ID badge, maybe wallet and phone. That's about all that fits, however, and highlights my first of two complaints about this outside pocket. It is nice to have a pocket of any kind on this kind of waterproof bag, but it's molded into the flap in such a way that only thin items will fit into it. It's not gusseted, doesn't have it's own shape - so anything you try to stuff into it tends to budge the tarp fabric, and then deforms the line of the zipper, making it hard to close. Even if you successfully get something into these outer pockets, it can make final closure of the flap itself difficult.

The second complaint about the outside pocket is the zipper itself. If there was one design flaw, this is it. Designs of water-resistant zippers has indeed come a long way over time, but it's still not a high-cycle device. For the first six months, the zipper worked perfectly, as designed: water never entered the pocket, even fully exposed to thunderstorm-level rainfall. However, water-resistant zippers' tragic flaw is the PVC-coating that is layered onto what is essentially a normal zipper. If you only enter the pocket on occasion, it's fine - but continued open-and-close cycles requires - as is the case for all zippers - the carrier/closure/slider to pass, rather abrasively, over the PVC coating. Over time, this material weakens, a gap is created, and eventually it begins to peel away. This makes the once water-resistant zipper a plain-old zipper, and water seeps in quite easily. I remedied this by taking a scissors to an old PVC rain jacket and making "storm flaps" to cover over the pocket openings. Sure, I could have simply loaded everything into a zip-top baggie, and put it inside the pocket for protection of my items, but the real concern was water getting in, and not drying out. Additionally, it flew in the face of my simplicity plan and routine: having a bag that allowed me to treat my items the same as if I was putting them into the pocket of my jeans was the goal. The added storm-flaps solved the problem, and are the only "repair" I've had to make to the bags since purchase. (I'll qualify that in a moment.) From a design perspective, I don't think a "better" water-resistant zipper is the answer for Axiom, should they choose to address the issue. A factory storm flap would be a good addition, but what might be better is simply an open pocket, slightly gusseted to allow for easier storage access, with a covering flap and quick-snap "Fastex"-style closure. In any case, this would make the pocket more usable, and it would live up to the "Water-Proof" moniker of the bag line. To be plain, however, this is a minor concern - as it should be: this tiny outside pocket is not the main selling feature of the bag, and this issue doesn't detract from the rest of the bag's performance.



Visibility is usually an afterthought for most cycling items, unfortunately, which has always struck me as odd. Granted, some reflective piping here and there is really secondary to a good vest, and proper lighting on the bicycle - so why load up accessory and bag manufacturers with requirements for reflective accents? Thankfully, many companies simply consider it a good idea - Axiom being one of them. They incorporated their logo into the accents, which is a good touch considering branding of a product is something they'd have done anyhow. Since these are waterproof, Axiom was mindful enough to consider that these bags might encounter some rainy rides, so they've been trimmed them on all three exposed sides with healthy doses of reflective material that proves quite effective, even when wet. So reflective, it made taking a photo of it quite difficult. You will notice in these photos my aforementioned "need" to slather just a little bit more visibility gear on whatever I purchase: the hi-vis orange netting that I placed on the "traffic-side" bag is my own addition, sewn into the edging seam on the bottom edge of the main flap. This is not included on Axiom bags, nor are the stickers that I've placed on the outside flaps, which I've blurred out in these pictures. I can't help myself sometimes - must... personalize.... bags!!

The durability of these bags is quite good. After a solid year of nearly daily use, there are few indicators of anything I'd consider to be "toward-failure" wear. The one "scare" I had was when a tiny corner of fabric seemed to peel backwards, but it turned out to be part of the overlap of tarpaulin and PVC-coating, and wasn't really a seam failure like I'd thought. I applied a little silicone sealant, pressed it in place overnight, and everything is fine. The actual ultrasonically welded seam will take a LOT more beatings before separating - it's a terribly strong bond, really, and a good construction choice for this kind of bag. A year of bumps, pot-holes, pavement joints, bike trail maladies, curbs and median jumps, bunny hops, railroad tracks and even occasional off-road and gravel commute detours - with daily commute loads, light errands, six-packs of beverages, wet tents and bike camping gear, and other countless items of odd-ball cargo, these bags have yet to wince. There is mild "staining" from open-close cycles on the grey PVC material - probably from when I entered the bag after a shift at the bike store with greasy hands - and little indicators of where the bag's roll-top feature pinches the PVC tarp, but little else. There are small areas of nylon "fray" here and there, but again - all very, very minor. The only signs of wear that I'm mildly concerned with involve the rubber coating of the pannier's rack hooks - and even that isn't 100% necessary for continued operation of the bags.



The back-side of each bag is the story of what they are exposed to from a year of all-weather commuting. The hardware is solid, but shows a bit of surface rust. There is clear marking from the rotation of the "rack-lock" blocks that help hold the bags in place, and you can tell where the bungee cords have been. All of this is normal wear, however, and nothing shows any signs of wearing thin, or wearing through. Further, Axiom includes a small replacement hardware kit in each bag at purchase, in case anything does become necessary. So far, I haven't been compelled to replace anything. The bottom side of each bag is also holding up quite well, with nothing to raise an eyebrow about. While no pannier is designed to be dragged along the ground, Axiom still chose to employ very sturdy rear corner protectors, just in case.







On my completely off-the-cuff, random, found-less scale of one to ten, I give these a solid 9-point rating - the only sour mark being the failure of the water-proof zippers and associated repair for the outside pockets, and the fact those same pockets aren't terribly useful for anything larger than a deck of cards. All in all, I've gotten my money's worth from these bags, and I fully expect to be writing about them again, this time next year. Highly recommended, a good price, durable, visible, and water-proof. A pair of these and their larger cousins, the Typhoon panniers, would make for a worry-free fall tour in questionable weather, no doubt.

MC SpandX 'bout to blast-off, worldwide. Boy-ee.

Blackburn Flea packs a punch, and packs small.

I'm always on the lookout for good bicycle lights, so when I caught wind of this little light from Blackburn I quickly snatched a set to try them out. Since the focus of this website is walking a thin line between randonneuring and commuting, I'll do my best to consider both realms of use. In the battery light world, there is a struggle for manufacturers to hit big selling points: size & weight, lumens, and run-time. It is indeed a fine balance, because you can generally only get two of these attributes at any one price point. Big lumens and long run-time requires a larger battery, for example. If you want light weight, you have to throw one of the items out - sometimes both. The field is changing, however, with little solutions like the Blackburn Flea.

It's been about nine months or so since I first picked up the Blackburn Flea headlight and taillight set, and I've managed to put it through a pretty good set of trials and paces. Retail price at the time was roughly $50, and at first I gasped because of the size of the lights and the seemingly small array of "stuff" I got in the package. At first glance on the sales rack, one might look at the price, then the lights, shrug, and walk away. Blackburn was smart, either by necessity or consequence, that the units are charged up in the package. The package is designed to allow prospective buyers to take a look at how they operate right there at the point of sale. When light shopping, I've often resorted to wondering, checking the web for beam-shots or photos of some kind, and reviews to know if my purchase was going to be worth a hoot. Sometimes, a bike retailers nightmare, I'd actually rip into a package and put the included batteries into the light and try it out - well,
carefully, so as not to render something un-sellable, of course. Blackburn did quite well with the packaging they chose in this regard, and clicking the lights on and examining the beams right there in the store, my sticker shock was suppressed. Almost blinded myself, and I was thusly sold.

At home, the two hook-n-loop straps, the charge adapter, and the lights all popped out of the package took up literally just a handful of space. This entire kit would fit easily into anyone's bag, seatpack or back pocket. All told, the front and rear lights with their associated straps weighed in at 20 grams each. Right off the bat, nothing is lighter in a rechargeable light. You have your Knog "Frog" lights, your Princeton Tec's, and other CR-2032 powered lights that are slightly smaller, far less bright, and not rechargeable. There are lots of images available via a Google search that have the Blackburn lights compared to coins - a good reference. These are TINY lights. What sets these apart are their power output and rechargeability.

Power output: Advertised at 40 lumens. That, for the size of this light, is quite remarkable. The rear light is equally bright. Yes, larger rechargeable lights have more power, but you have to remember that you can't have it all (yet) and the size is the focus here. In that arena, if I could be so bold as to pose a "lumens per gram" fantasy, these are a clear leader. The front light uses 4 Nichia white LEDs, producing an even spot beam that is actually enough to ride by if you keep your speed in check - so in a pinch, this is actually a viable backup headlight, not just a tiny, blinky marker-light or be-seen light - although in flash mode, it excels at the latter. For most commuters, the front light could be enough on mornings or evenings where you just can't get the sunshine to fit your schedule. On street-lit roads, honestly, this light on the handlebars with the included hook-n-loop strap would be enough for most anyone. The remarkable output is balanced by the r
un-time, which on steady is about three hours, slightly more. Sure, not much - but focus back on size vs. output, and it's surprising. It's enough to get you home, certainly, for what most riders would use it for. There is an over-drive mode, which is really handy - but it really eats into the run-time bank, and on one ride in early January I managed to blow through the charge in about half the advertised three hours, alternating between both modes. With tender use of the overdrive feature, however, the three hours on steady was repeatable on many occasions.

Beam quality is pretty good - my only complaint is with the emitters having a purplish tinge to them, which - spectrally - is a little bit of wasted energy. The sealed design of the enclosure doesn't really lend itself towards hacking or swapping emitters like you can do with some lights, so I didn't even try - but that's the only real operational flaw I could find with this little wonder. Head to head against other LED lights, that purplish tinge to the light seems to remove a little bit of the contrast and candlepower. Because of this, I found myself using the overdrive feature probably moreso than Blackburn intended, just to get a better beam - when there is more voltage opened to the emitters, the color improves. Still, I can't fault Blackburn for this: if they'd have come to market with an (estimated) 80 lumen light that only ran for an hour on a charge, it would not have been very useful. More run time at the expense of a little spectral quality, not a horrible t
hing - and having the overdrive function there in a pinch, you can safely navigate darker sections of road, and then return to normal. One thing I've seen in pricier lights is a simple toggle to allow easier movement between high and low power, bypassing any blinking modes until the button is held for 'x' seconds. But, to be fair, this isn't a race light, so having to "go around the horn" and toggle past blinking mode each time I want to switch power is okay, I suppose.

The charging system is brilliant. You use an adapter to siphon current from a 1.5v cell of any size, the size dictating the number of charges you get: about 3 for a AA-cell, roughly 30 for a D-cell. New for 2010, a new version of the light includes a small solar panel and a USB adapter. Unless I'm mistaken, this is a bicycle-light first for out-of-the-box charging flexibility. This is really slick, not gimmicky like one might assume. It works well. Blackburn has always been a solid company with regards to innovation: even the hook-n-loop straps weren't an afterthought: one side has a thick rubbery center stripe, which is meant to hold the light in place on handlebar or seatpost, and it makes for a very solid platform. Combined with their low mass, these light don't move around on the bike at all once in place.

For randonneuring use, the Flea lights make good backups in a pinch. Sure, the rear light is a given: it takes up almost no space in a bag, weighs very little, and will blink for up to 12 hours. For most brevets, if a primary rear light fails this might save you a DNF. For the front, its a stretch: you can see the road with it, but your speed, especially on any downhill, would have to be limited on dark roads for sure. Add in the three hour run time, depending on when your primary light failed, it may not be enough to save a ride. The tiny charge adapter and packing a AA cell in a bag will allow field recharging, but charge times (while really good) are 30 minutes, so every three hours you'd have to stop and hang out. Sure, a primary light failure would mean life on brevet is compromised - but I'm not sure its the best solution for a tired randonneur to be messing with tiny wires and waiting for a charge every 50 miles or so. In this sense the Flea front light might
be best hanging out in the bag as a third-string backup. Using the Flea in this way is indeed WAY outside the original design intent, but, for reading cues, changing a flat after dark, shining on a street sign, its perfect - Strap this to a helmet and use sparingly and you've got a light-weight, tiny beacon that kicks the snot out of anything else its size. Just keep your use in check, and get something different if you want to supplement your primary light during the ride.

All in all, these are an exceptional product, very versatile, and adaptable to just about anything. Commuting, rando backup, racing sunset on a roadie ride, marking your position on a rainy ride. Highly recommended.