Just putting this out there --- this is the time of year to base build, for you racer-types… and really, it’s beneficial for anyone that likes to ride. It’s a great way to look at things like the MS-150, and KNOW that you have the distance in your legs. It’s great if you are getting ready for a long, multi-day event or tour. It’s good, too, if your only goal is simply to push yourself a little more than the average cyclist does. It’s brevet-time!
This year, the usual stack of brevets starts the with 200K, which begins and ends in Kansas City, KS. – details can be found on the KC Ultra Cycling webpage:
http://kcbrevets.blogspot.com
As you’ll see once you click to it, there is another 200K in April, and the weather might be a little warmer by then, yeah – but also know that second 200K is a lot hillier! The distances go up from there, if you find the 200K level challenging, and find yourself wondering – like I did many years back – “what’s next? Can I go FARTHER?”
So, come on out! Check the webpage for details, RULES, and sign-up. It’s a couple weeks away, and this first one is definitely relaxed, slow paced, and for the scenery and for the thrill of getting some miles in early in the season.
Also note, that you don’t HAVE to follow the schedule now --- while I HIGHLY recommend the higher attendance and superbly well-run events that Bob B., our RBA, puts on, there are other events that you can choose your ride-date on, called Permanents – I have been working on a route all winter, and finally got it approved with the RUSA folks – you’ll find information about it on that website as well – if you are interested in riding it, let me know, or contact our permanents coordinator, Spencer K.
Either way, consider this your official friendly invite to come out and explore with me and others what life is like on the other side of the Century mark! Cheers!
It’s a trip…. It’s got a funky beat… and I can bug out to it!
February 29, 2008
February 27, 2008
March cometh...
Let the bells ring…. MARCH is coming!
Quickly to follow, daylight savings time! Thank goodness …. Standard time is for chumps.
Tomorrow, it’s time to get started again – a long layoff from the bike, partly due to weather, partly due to the Texas 200K from a couple weeks back. Ok, mostly due to the weather not cooperating. As I was reminded by a friend from St.Joe recently – whom also finished the Arrowhead 135 this year, I should mention – the sloppiness of the roads is relative. I haven’t done too much this year to fill up the “I’ve-had-worse” folder – in fact, this is the first year that I’ve ever traveled to a warmer clime to get an early brevet in – even tho most of that was to see a friend, it should be noted that I didn’t exactly leap back into the saddle once I arrived home! This winter, as the news tells me, has been one of the sloppiest, wettest ones in over a decade, so I suppose we were due for it – but I didn’t use much of it as an opportunity to honor my north-of-the-Arctic-Circle heritage.
I’ve been playing it safe, I suppose -- nothing wakes you up in the morning like a near-miss with black ice and a trash truck! Ah, yes – there was that one morning, dressed in Bantha skins I took to the streets when it was +9 degrees, but that was a one-shot deal. This boy is ready for warmth.
I’m done with cold. Cold is dumb.
So, basking in the RELATIVE warmth of 40 degrees today, I feel pretty good, but I’m not sure if I’m just gonna wait until March actually begins, or start immediately getting back to the business of re-earning my moniker of “CommuterDude”. It’s a heavy weight, sometimes, knowing in the back of my head that I have NOT commuted to work in a while. There’s a guy – Crowbar – that sits only a few seats down from me that has been commuting, nearly daily – except for really icy mornings where the roads are beyond un-safe. It’s hard to hear him get all the questions and disbelief from co-workers that I used to get – I’m not jealous, mind you, it’s just interesting that only a few years ago that was me, and the last couple of years I’ve been full of excuses and stuff. I’ll get it back. I need to get it back – gas is just ridiculous. It’s solidly over $3.00 a gallon now for weeks, and it’s stupid. I honestly don’t know, however, where people will learn to stop – the demand is higher than ever, it seems. It’s just not going to stop until it’s 1973 all over again, and pumps start actually running out of fuel to give. That will be an interesting day, I tell you.
Man, I’m rattling here, aren’t I? I look to this weekend, and the promise of a flirt with 60ºF, and I start to look at the ride calendar and find it hopelessly bleak-looking. None of the regular weekend rides will probably start up until later in March, maybe April even. There are the usual faves like Longview, and I may just have to head east. That’s always a good one. There is a new local one in Olathe, the Bike America Ride from the new Bike America location at Santa Fe and Clairborne, but I haven’t been able to contact the ride organizer for a while now, which makes me wonder about it. Whatever I decide upon, it’s clear: the road is calling – I have had the bug for a couple weeks now, since returning from Texas, and the weather & my schedule have just not been meeting up. The first 200K of the KCUC season is on March 8th, and even though I already have a 200K in my legs this year I still feel like it’s probably a good idea to maybe get some spinning in – duh. I’m actually shocked how LITTLE the Texas ride affected me, after the fact. Yeah, it was hard to get thru, but perhaps the fitness center time and such has really paid off in ways that I can’t yet SEE on my body, or see on the scale. It wasn’t a speed record, no – but I had almost no post-ride fatigue like I would have expected from so much time OFF the bike before such distance. Not looking a gift-horse in the mouth, I’m keeping on it, and this cyclist will be leaner and trimmer by this time in 2009, fo-sho.
It feels good, and it’s far better than wallowing in shoulda’s and Twinkies; that version of the ‘Dude, which has been hanging around these pages for about 8 months, is dead.
Time to get on with business again! Fun! Rides! LIFE!
I feel charged up --- and I’m really ready to ditch February:
Bronchitis, strep throat, stomach flu (twice), snot, headaches, sinus problems: This February, the hardest month for anyone in this part of the country to get through, was especially hard this year. MAN, I’m ready to feel better, and for my family to feel better!
It’s been ROUGH! Finally, we are all well – or at least on the mend here… I have the last touches of a stomach thing that is finally letting go. Just in time. Man, I love vitamin C…. sometimes, it’s just not enough. Freakin’ public school system… germ-pool, more like. ANYways…. No-one’s fault – it’s sick season, and I’m ready for that to be OVER.
I have my 217km RUSA-sanctioned permanent route approved and posted now, also, and that feels good – after Bob’s brevet season wraps up, I am considering using it to keep the gander up when time permits – helping that, Bob’s got a few other 200K’s off in the distance summertime, which is new – and VERY welcome, and I’m excited about that as well. I think that I’ll be sticking it in town this year, so it’s nice to have a good calendar of rides coming up, plus all the usual local favorites that are always a treat.
I might also…. Hmmmm….. well, maybe….. I haven’t decided yet….
Nice teaser, eh? Crud, I don’t know --- this is very much gonna be a fly-by-the-seat year, just have fun, and ride lots. That’s my 2008 motto.
If it isn’t fun, don’t do it… and if it IS fun, by all means, enjoy it like it’s your LAST ride, because that’s how life should be lived. Smile, sing, laugh, and pedal hard when you can – revel in the hard times, because they are defining, but always remember that when the hard times come, it can’t be THAT bad…because you’re still on a bicycle.
Ahhhh… the open road CALLS! Bring the spring rains, wash clean the sand and salt of winter! Bring the shorts and throw away the heavy jackets! Ahhhh……
Dude, WHO ELSE IS READY FOR SPRING?!?! Bring it on! J J J
Quickly to follow, daylight savings time! Thank goodness …. Standard time is for chumps.
Tomorrow, it’s time to get started again – a long layoff from the bike, partly due to weather, partly due to the Texas 200K from a couple weeks back. Ok, mostly due to the weather not cooperating. As I was reminded by a friend from St.Joe recently – whom also finished the Arrowhead 135 this year, I should mention – the sloppiness of the roads is relative. I haven’t done too much this year to fill up the “I’ve-had-worse” folder – in fact, this is the first year that I’ve ever traveled to a warmer clime to get an early brevet in – even tho most of that was to see a friend, it should be noted that I didn’t exactly leap back into the saddle once I arrived home! This winter, as the news tells me, has been one of the sloppiest, wettest ones in over a decade, so I suppose we were due for it – but I didn’t use much of it as an opportunity to honor my north-of-the-Arctic-Circle heritage.
I’ve been playing it safe, I suppose -- nothing wakes you up in the morning like a near-miss with black ice and a trash truck! Ah, yes – there was that one morning, dressed in Bantha skins I took to the streets when it was +9 degrees, but that was a one-shot deal. This boy is ready for warmth.
I’m done with cold. Cold is dumb.
So, basking in the RELATIVE warmth of 40 degrees today, I feel pretty good, but I’m not sure if I’m just gonna wait until March actually begins, or start immediately getting back to the business of re-earning my moniker of “CommuterDude”. It’s a heavy weight, sometimes, knowing in the back of my head that I have NOT commuted to work in a while. There’s a guy – Crowbar – that sits only a few seats down from me that has been commuting, nearly daily – except for really icy mornings where the roads are beyond un-safe. It’s hard to hear him get all the questions and disbelief from co-workers that I used to get – I’m not jealous, mind you, it’s just interesting that only a few years ago that was me, and the last couple of years I’ve been full of excuses and stuff. I’ll get it back. I need to get it back – gas is just ridiculous. It’s solidly over $3.00 a gallon now for weeks, and it’s stupid. I honestly don’t know, however, where people will learn to stop – the demand is higher than ever, it seems. It’s just not going to stop until it’s 1973 all over again, and pumps start actually running out of fuel to give. That will be an interesting day, I tell you.
Man, I’m rattling here, aren’t I? I look to this weekend, and the promise of a flirt with 60ºF, and I start to look at the ride calendar and find it hopelessly bleak-looking. None of the regular weekend rides will probably start up until later in March, maybe April even. There are the usual faves like Longview, and I may just have to head east. That’s always a good one. There is a new local one in Olathe, the Bike America Ride from the new Bike America location at Santa Fe and Clairborne, but I haven’t been able to contact the ride organizer for a while now, which makes me wonder about it. Whatever I decide upon, it’s clear: the road is calling – I have had the bug for a couple weeks now, since returning from Texas, and the weather & my schedule have just not been meeting up. The first 200K of the KCUC season is on March 8th, and even though I already have a 200K in my legs this year I still feel like it’s probably a good idea to maybe get some spinning in – duh. I’m actually shocked how LITTLE the Texas ride affected me, after the fact. Yeah, it was hard to get thru, but perhaps the fitness center time and such has really paid off in ways that I can’t yet SEE on my body, or see on the scale. It wasn’t a speed record, no – but I had almost no post-ride fatigue like I would have expected from so much time OFF the bike before such distance. Not looking a gift-horse in the mouth, I’m keeping on it, and this cyclist will be leaner and trimmer by this time in 2009, fo-sho.
It feels good, and it’s far better than wallowing in shoulda’s and Twinkies; that version of the ‘Dude, which has been hanging around these pages for about 8 months, is dead.
Time to get on with business again! Fun! Rides! LIFE!
I feel charged up --- and I’m really ready to ditch February:
Bronchitis, strep throat, stomach flu (twice), snot, headaches, sinus problems: This February, the hardest month for anyone in this part of the country to get through, was especially hard this year. MAN, I’m ready to feel better, and for my family to feel better!
It’s been ROUGH! Finally, we are all well – or at least on the mend here… I have the last touches of a stomach thing that is finally letting go. Just in time. Man, I love vitamin C…. sometimes, it’s just not enough. Freakin’ public school system… germ-pool, more like. ANYways…. No-one’s fault – it’s sick season, and I’m ready for that to be OVER.
I have my 217km RUSA-sanctioned permanent route approved and posted now, also, and that feels good – after Bob’s brevet season wraps up, I am considering using it to keep the gander up when time permits – helping that, Bob’s got a few other 200K’s off in the distance summertime, which is new – and VERY welcome, and I’m excited about that as well. I think that I’ll be sticking it in town this year, so it’s nice to have a good calendar of rides coming up, plus all the usual local favorites that are always a treat.
I might also…. Hmmmm….. well, maybe….. I haven’t decided yet….
Nice teaser, eh? Crud, I don’t know --- this is very much gonna be a fly-by-the-seat year, just have fun, and ride lots. That’s my 2008 motto.
If it isn’t fun, don’t do it… and if it IS fun, by all means, enjoy it like it’s your LAST ride, because that’s how life should be lived. Smile, sing, laugh, and pedal hard when you can – revel in the hard times, because they are defining, but always remember that when the hard times come, it can’t be THAT bad…because you’re still on a bicycle.
Ahhhh… the open road CALLS! Bring the spring rains, wash clean the sand and salt of winter! Bring the shorts and throw away the heavy jackets! Ahhhh……
Dude, WHO ELSE IS READY FOR SPRING?!?! Bring it on! J J J
February 21, 2008
Song of the Week - 2/21/2008
Pink Floyd - FearlessTalking OLD Pink, here... from the Meddle LP, 1971.
The tune is fantastic, the recording magical and near perfect, and the sense of triumph it envokes at high volume is magnificent.
I find it especially appropriate, for those that get lost in the music like I do, to also post the lyrics. Not written for cycling, but certainly appropriate for it. Find it, listen. If you're lucky enough to have the LP, dust it off and give it a spin. On this cold Kansas night, I have visions... and I wait for spring to challenge me.
Lyrics... credited to Roger Waters and David Gilmour:
You say the hill's too steep to climb
Just climb it
You say you'd like to see me try
Climbing
You pick the place and I'll choose the time
And I'll climb
The hill in my own way
Just wait a while for the right day
And as I rise above the tree lines and the clouds
I look down
Hear the sound of the things you said today
Fearlessly, the idiot faced the crowd
Smiling
Merciless, the magistrate turns 'round
Frowning
And who's the fool who wears the crown?
And go down in your own way
And every day is the right day
And as you rise above the fear-lines in his brow
You look down
Hear the sound of the faces in the crowd....
February 11, 2008
R-12 pt.1 -- Third Time's the Charm
Welp, I finished the Texas 210km ride Saturday! Explaining the title, after two DNF's in the Lone Star state - both at the Tejas 500 - I finally officially finish a ride in Texas! Yeah, it's about 1/4 the distance of Tejas, so the curse of the 500 isn't totally lifted -- but, that only means that I have to train four times harder than normal to finish (well) at Tejas 500. Will I try again this year? No. I'm taking the year off from really nasty, big goals -- and per previous post information you may already have read on this blog, you wouldn't know about it even if I was -- so there. :) Nice try, tho.
More details to come later tonite (2/11) as I settle in behind the keyboard and recall some of the finer points of one of the toughest 200K's I've ever ridden. There is something about Texas, me, and riding. Let's get to it...
First off, let me say that the randonneuring spirit in Texas is as big as everything else in the state. One of the most popular rides here in the metro KC area is over at Longview Lake, a recreational club ride, and one of my favorites. Often times during the peak summer months, Saturday morning will see about 55+ people attending for one of three loops of up to 38 miles. It's a great time, and a lot of people to ride with from all levels.
Saturday morning, the ride start temperature was a cold-for-Texas 40 degrees, and there were at least SIXTY people lined up for either of three distances offered that day, 200, 300 and 400 kilometers. Most of the riders were signed up for the 400K. REALLY. I was shocked... it was like July at Longview Lake. Absolutely crazy.
I say that it was cold-for-Texas, because they just aren't used to temps like these, even though the daytime high was forecast for the lower 70's, it was just a chilly morning, and there was a lot of cold weather gear, seriously, like balaclavas and lobster gloves for the conditions - which just made me smile to myself. I finally pulled out the balaclava a couple weeks ago when I rode to work when it was 9 above F in the morning. 40 degrees for a start temp was almost a heat wave for me! In fact, the temp in Olathe at the time was about twelve degrees, so I was just happy as a clam to be in Texas. There were some hearty souls that apparently only looked at the daytime high temps, and dressed for the future. One gent was dressed in a short sleeve jersey, arm warmers and shorts - and that was it, no ear protection, no gloves. He was visibly shivering, and complaining openly. Interesting. Sometimes I wonder, honestly, and I risk getting flamed badly if this guy happens to read this post - but man, this same guy was on a jet-black 2008 Trek Madone 5.9 with full D/A, a seat bag the size of a film cannister, one water bottle, and proceeded to outwardly panic when the ride organizer announced that for the 400K - which he was riding - you would need two post-cards to mail from the two unmanned controls. He freaked out –
"what's a postcard? A postcard? What does she mean?" He wasn't kidding. He grabbed his brevet card out of one of his back pockets, and motioned to it. "Is THIS a postcard, you mean I need two of these? Why do I need two of these?" He had a glassy, wide-eyed expression on his face as he scanned the crowd around him for some sort of validation. I was speechless. So were many of the dozen or so folks looking on with me. Uhhhhh.....dude? I mean, he looked older, fairly intell.... nevermind, he's riding an all-carbon Madone with 20c tires for a 400K. Come to think of it, I don't remember seeing a light on his front end, either. I was a little confused, personally. He got the help he needed, but the rest of us were kind of flabbergasted.
"What's a post-card?" quickly became the quote of the day.
Anyhoo... after that little issue blew over, we were off into the early morning light. Ort and I paired up, as it would stay for the day, for a day of good base building. I was looking forward to the practically flat course, the promise of a tailwind in both directions, and some sunshine. The massive pack set off, and the speeds were nice and moderate in the 15-18 MPH range, as promised. It wouldn't last.
There is something about the pack, the BIG pack... it happens at Longview Lake every weekend. Invariably, someone goes off the front, even if by only a few meters. We reel him back, instinctively. It happens again, the speed comes up a little more. Again. A little more speed. Before anyone knows it, the conversation has stopped and the entire world is going 25 MPH blowing sports drink all over themselves and gasping for more oxygen. Today, especially in the rando crowd, it happened a little slower, but ended up the same way. My base-building promises were eclipsed by the fact that after 9 miles or so, I realized that I was hanging out with Ort in the second group that was all pacing off one of the two tandems in attendance. I look down at my speed, and it's 26. What the...? Typical. Dude, slow down! About the time that Ort and I said out-loud that "we are going WAY too fast.", and "my goal is only 15 MPH average today, man.", someone with a racing background and legs to match was off the left, off the front, and up the road. Some chased. The tandem Captain shifted gears, the pack answered, and the pace went up again. Did Ort and I stay back? Nooooooooooooo, of course not!!! WHA-BAM!!! We shifted and slugged it out on the next "climb", catching the suspect -- who wasn't even winded. He was riding within HIS pace, what was OUR problem? Idiot-boy lives on -- I was primed for action. No serious riding for months, no base mileage -- yeah, let's drive to Texas and have an anaerobic adventure and blow choad on the shoulder, man! Treat!
This repeated for a while, and I was surprised to learn that all of this winter so far wasn't a complete waste. Yeah, I didn't have much road-time, but the fitness center really helped, and while my technique was rusty and my spin a little square, I was keeping up and staying in fairly reasonable cardio territory. But, then, the pinnacle "attack" came, the tandem was flying, the ex-racer was chasing, so I chased him along with three other more-than-worthy Texans, and proceeded to blow myself up about a mile later. Ort catches up and congratulated me on getting it out of my system,
which is code for "have you found out how stupid you're being, yet?"
I smiled to myself, mainly because I couldn't talk yet. Yikes. Ok, on to the business of --- oh yeah... base building. Doofus.
We paired up again, the faster bunch reformed and proceeded safely out of striking distance. One other guy joined up with us for a draft, and we three started to make our way along at 15-18 MPH, as promised. Perfect!
Of course, the nasty notion of defeat often creeps up, and then one starts to self-guess, wonder. Beyond all reasonable notions of good training, nutrition, virtue and self-control, the questions come up. "You know, we can try and bridge if you want to..." gets muttered. Gear levers are felt up, and eventually shifted... heads lower...the pace is lifted out of the basement.....
KILL!!!!!
I don't know if I'll ever grow up and just be a nice, controlled rider. Man, that paceline up there about a half-mile looks awwwww-ful tasty..... LETS GET EM!
Ort and I, and the guy following us, began to try and reel in the pack that was ahead of us. I went first, punched out a wicked 27 MPH on the flat... which I held for a paltry minute or so before I started to slow down to about 22MPH, and then 21.... the Ort passed me, clearly showing that he's ridden a few of these lately (this ride marked the FINAL 200K he needed to complete his R-12 goal, so his last 200K was less than a month prior, and he's getting faster all the time.) Finally, the third guy in line passes me up, and they pair up and begin to really make progress closing the gap to the next group. I was out on my own, but gutted out a now-consistent 22 MPH pace, head down into the slight headwind, and making up ground on the slow-n-steady train. Showing my Ullrich, as it were.
Finally, I bridge... but my intent is to get to the front of the line, and as a bonus, I see a stop sign coming up --- attack! I stand out of the saddle, and sprint for it - and make it to the stopsign before the rest of the group. Big deal.... Yeay, me! I get a "good job" from Ort, and a buncha confused looks from the rest of the group -- after all, dude, this ain't a club ride, so chill out. These rando guys down here in Texas are fast by design and exposure, not to make some kind of point. Like, I come from Kansas to conquer your brevet! Silly Viking notions. Go pillage somewhere else, Kansan.
Back to business, after having lit my last match on that grand little stop sign stunt, I was finally ready for some solid base-building.... errr, damage control and limping? Ort, again showing that he was as much a part of the Texas rando vibe as he'd just proven by bridging and still being able to think coherently, was sticking with the paceline after the turn. I was all smiles at my conquest, and I would get to enjoy the glory like most great warriors with minimal brain-power do: alone. The group began to - faster than before - advance up the road, along this really big stretch of SR-31. I was utterly alone.... just me, my shiny Trek, and a big wide shoulder, and truck traffic, and thankfully: no one catching me from behind to rub it all in. At least I hadn't slowed down THAT much. I began to sing songs in my head, wonder where in the car I'd left my brain, and why my Sustained Energy cocktail had stopped working. My stomach was hurting a little bit, like - I wish the next control were here right now kinda pain. Awesome! I began to think about things like soda crackers and Pepto Bismol, and watched as the colored jerseys and spinning legs of the pack ahead of me turned into a little tiny caterpillar of color and wiggly motion...smaller, and smaller, and smaller...... Hmmm.
Where am I?
I realized too, that I hadn't looked at the cue sheet at all. Did I HAVE a cue sheet? Ort was gonna stay with me today.... uh oh. Welp, follow the road, and slow down --- someone will catch me, surely.
Just then, Ort began to pull back from the pack he was in.. so the colorful caterpillar up the road began to look more like a millipede that had dropped someone off at the library. Then that little yellow friend began to get bigger.... and bigger... Hey, it’s a guy on a bike! Then the guy on the bike disappeared again, around a bend. I went around the bend, and didn't see him anymore. Great. Uhh.... keep going. It's not like I've never been here before, and I'm in a totally different state or something....
THERE!
The first control. BATHROOM!!!!
20 minutes later, my card was signed, a few layer shed, and fig newtons engaged. My old friends. Tasty. Effective. Good for at least 30 miles in most cases. Time to GET IT ON!
This time, however, Ort and I would indeed stay together. In typical Texas fashion, the run to the first control marks the end of the fun stuff, and the beginning of the "ok, get real: there's xxx amount of miles left, and we have all day to do it" thinking. I was totally ready for some of that, and had been for the past five miles. Ready to roll, we headed out of Dawson, TX., and headed south towards Mexia. Pronouced like muh-HEE-uh, by the way. Nothing says "you don't live here." like butchering a local town name. mecks-i-uh? uh, no, city-boy. I look easy to kill today.
Texas natives can smell foreigners of all flavors.
We cut across the car-wash -- vitally important -- and head back onto the route, as I said before. Riding now was a cozy 15-17 MPH pace, and I was happy to have cleared my gut and gotten some good food into me. I started to drink more, too. I've found that I am basically a one-trick pony: if I'm going to ride fast, I can't hydrate. Too much going on. If I want to hydrate, I have to maintain a slower pace. That way, I remember to do it. Weird. So, from the first 28 miles of speed I was a little short on personal liquids, and began to make it up in earnest. We stopped in Mexia, not a control, but a great rest area. I had more water, some Red Bull (helps the mental game, sugar-free of course), and some Gardetto's Mustard pretzel rods.... freaking AWESOME. I felt charged and ready. But, we blew a good 40 minutes here, and watched as the last riders on the 200K route passed by on the road nearby. Time to get moving!
Pretty soon, after more of the same long, tiring, FLAT, SR-422 highway shoulder -- gee, I wish I could coast -- we arrived at Groesbeck, TX.... a dimension of sight, of sound... of mind.... you've entered....
The Broken Spoke Zone....
What the....? After miles and miles and miles, I finally broke a spoke - here. Pulling gently into the Double D Food & Fuel station in Groesbeck, out of the saddle, coasting, and not hitting really ANYthing, one of the spokes on the rear non-driveside just gave out, near the hub of all places. Weird.... REALLY weird. A clean break, right at the control. The rear wheel popped quickly out of true, and rubbed the rear brakes hard. Well, at least this was a planned stop! And, this might as well be a plug for a product: I was very happy to know that deep inside my trusty seatbag was a FiberFix replacement spoke. Made of an aramid material with a unique cam-lock fastener that screws into the existing spoke nut at the rim, it's a ride saver, and worked PERFECTLY -- EVEN with my proprietary-design, special spoked Mavic Ksyriums. There was a little investigating to be done, but come to find out the spoke attachment at the rim has an internal brass threaded sleeve that the FiberFix cam threads right into, just like a regular spoke nut. Perfection. I was back on the road in no time, actually, and with minimal fuss.
Strike that.
I got my wheel fixed, alright... got my card signed... and got my food purchase rang up....
But, this is Groesbeck, TX.... a desperately small Texas town.... very close to Waco, TX..... ah, I can see your eyebrows raising now.... mmm,hmmmm..... we close to Waco.... it's....
The Broken Spoke Zone -- a strange and mystical place where the forces of nature and the un-earthly combine to accelerate metal fatigue just enough to stop your travel, and just long enough for the locals to smell the guy that "ain't from these parts".....
Just then, the peace of the spring like day was pierced by the gentle whirr of an electric wheelchair. "Excuse me, gents... how are ya'll today?" Oh, crap.
"How far you ridin'?"
"You like bar-b-que?"
"I know YOU like barbeque, boy."
"What kind of bike is that?"
"Ya'll in real good physical shape for this kinda thing, aren'tcha?"
"You know I built a lot of these roads ya'll'r riding on t'day."
"Back in '64....."
"Back in '73....."
"Down in my basement...."
"I got arthritis REAL bad....wanna see?"
"You aware that January is NOT really the first month of the year?"
"Ya'll know Jesus is the one, right?"
"You like Barbeque?"
"I'm gonna run for mayor...will you vote for me?"
"I know ya'll like barbecue, now..."
AHHAHAHAHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
RIDE AWAY! RIDE AWAY!
Just as we got back onto the road, and I was starting to get images of bad barbecue and unpaid dental bills out of my head, I had almost forgotten that we were in Groesbeck, TX....
"Excuse me, I know ya'll are ridin'....but can you stop a second?" In near doppler effect, someone had stopped their truck on the shoulder, and was standing next to it, waving Ort and I down - right in our path. Oh......crap.
What fresh hell is THIS?
"My wife and I are just bicycle NUTS, and I was wondering if you had the name of the organizer of this here ride, and how I can get in touch with him -- because I want to make sure you have someplace to stop, and I want to set it up for you... FREE OF CHARGE."
Emphasis on the BIG selling point at the end. Ooooo-Kay... let's forget that this is 2008 (I think) and there are convenience stores EVERYWHERE that we can hit... and this is a set route that already has us stopping at one.... let's not even get into THAT. I didn't talk. My lack of deep-south accent, or attempt at a fake one, would probably prove fatal. Ort did the talking, while I tried to avoid eye contact with anyone else that might have been nearby.
Ort gave him the name of the organizer -- it's hard to tell; the guy was probably thinking he was being sneaky by waving tasty candy in front of us kids so we'd give up where our Pa worked, so he could in turn complain that we'd somehow trod on his daisies at some point. Didn't wash with me. I was envisioning some sort of Silence of the Lambs scenario, where this guy and his wife REALLY like cycling.... I mean, cycl-ISTS, as-in we have a collection of them in our basement, and I was the out-of-towner that wouldn't be missed for a couple days. CAN WE GET THE CRAP OUTTA HERE, PLEASE?
About then, Ort rode past me, muttering "don't make eye contact, just go, just GO...."
And so we did.... get me the freak OUT of this town. Our pace was suddenly a little more robust, as we occasionally checked our backs for a black pickup truck, an angry mob, or a surprisingly fast electric wheelchair.
After our adrenaline wore off, we were back to a reasonable pace -- which meant another reduction in overall speed as Ort began to talk up the one big hill on the course, to prepare me for it. The anticipation was killing me. This next section to the next control was 29.5 miles, and it was the LONGEST 29.5 miles I think I've EVER ridden. Yes, the big hill DID come, and go, but the section leading up to it was like 16 miles long, and flat, and exposed --- oh, and the wind shifted to meet us in the face, as it had done the last time we had turned. The promise of a tailwind was looking bleak. At least it wasn't a gale. But the flatness of the road was taking it's toll, and my pre-occupation with repairing my spoke -- which, by the way, was holding up perfectly -- had prevented me from really getting any calories into my body. I was drinking enough, but there was nothing in the tank but dust. Yeeesh.... I was feeling downright BONKED after about 16 miles, and there was still a long, flat way to go. FLAT. F_L_A_T.
F
L
A
T
"Ort, I'm tired of pedalling" I sounded like a meek five year old, asking if we were there yet.
This blows. I swear, the next time anyone back in JC,KS says "man, I hate hills, I'll take a good flat route ANY day", I'm gonna kick them in the teeth. This SUCKS. Let's see....I think I'll try THIS gear for a while. Nice... I think I'll coast... NOPE! CAN'T COAST! SUCKER!!!!
The promise at the next control was pie. GOOD pie... I hearken back to the Cooky's Diner ride of along time back with the Warbird between Pittsburg, KS and Golden City, MO.... ahhhh, that was a good ride.... HOT, flat.... but not ALL flat.... and AWESOME pie. I was in for a treat today, and a trip down memory lane. Unfortunately, memory lane is FLAT.
"Want some pie?" "Too bad, keep pedalling."
Ahhhh..... Mt. Calm, TX. Where the men are strong, the women are chain-smokers, and the children can't keep their hands off of ANYTHING in the freaking store. Dixie's Little Stop, in Mt. Calm -- not exactly like Cookie's Diner, but the pie was freaking AWESOME... and I'm not sure, but I think I got a nicotine buzz off of it, too. Maybe it was the leftovers from my near-bonk on the road TO it, but it hit the spot, and I could feel the sugar pulsing through my veins after a few minutes. I was back, baby. Food was served all around, Ort having a BBQ beef sandwich.... all that talk back there in Groesbeck must've triggered a hankerin' for it, I reckon. (See, Texas is wearing into me by this time in the ride.) I had a Coke, and some Gatorade, too, and took off my base layer ---- it was 75 degrees+, as promised, and the morning dress was just too much. Finally comfortable, and full of good fuel, it was time to head out again...
Somewhere along the way, the time-warp was catching up. It was 2:30PM! The math was starting to look bleak, and I had brought my headlight down to the ride with me, but hadn't bothered to put it on the bike. After all, it's only a 200K -- but I was forgetting that this wasn't one of BOB'S 200Ks, as-in, it wasn't MARCH yet, and the sun was still gonna set in like three hours -- and we had 38.3 miles to go to hit the finish! Uhhh... that doesn't sound like much, but over the course of the last 93 miles, our pace had dropped from a morning high of 18.7 MPH at the first control, to around 15.2 MPH now. Based on that, it was really not looking too good, and even though I was fueled up - it was really too little, too late -- my legs hadn't been this far since October, and I was feeling the lack of saddle time. This next stretch, too, was flatter than the last, and included one section of 23.7 miles on the SAME ROAD. Good gravy. A long, exposed section of highway, with a good shoulder, ZERO trees, no protection from the wind --- which, had shifted AGAIN to meet us in the face AGAIN. Yeah, really. We'd have to average 12.7 MPH is all, but that was feeling like a tall order.
As I pulled out of the control with Ort, I could tell this was going to be close. I pushed with all I could, and managed to sit right around 15 MPH - but it was hurting. Ort was digesting his food, and was able to manage about the same pace, but I knew it wouldn't last -- he'd hit a point where he would get into a groove and start accelerating. I could only hope that I could hold his draft. The slog began.
We rode and rode, and after about five miles looked back --- all the motivation Ort needed was about 1/2 a mile behind us, the slower group was catching us. We'd been trudging along as a pair all day, and the two behind us were proving more consistent, and had gained a third rider to assist. Ort was having none of it. He shifted, I shifted and tucked in behind him - it was on. The approaching darkness was motivation enough, but not finishing last was more-so. We worked. Rather, ORT worked: for the next 28 miles, I was in no-man's land, staring at Ort's rear wheel which was about 4 inches in front of mine. Hands resting over the brake levers just in case, I took on the role of wheel-sucker. It was all I could do, as brief forays into the headwind -- which was increasing -- sapped all my power in an instant, and dropped me into the 11 MPH range. Not good enough, I ducked back behind him. At other times when the road pitched up slightly, growing a little less flat in the final miles, I would drop off his back wheel entirely and fade into the 9's. I'd get inspired, and remember how to spin: engaging my hamstrings, I was able to accelerate back up to him -- but other times I would slog and slog and resort myself to knowing that there were no more turns to make, and I would let Ort go on without me so I could silently finish at my own pace. Lights or no lights, I was not going to stop. I had a taillight, as always, and I would have to hope for good night vision and no serious pavement maladies -- but as soon as I'd get this formulated in my head, I'd look up to find Ort had lifted the pace and drifted back to me to re-engage the draft. He, in short, is the man. Undaunted by the wind or the clock, he was going to make sure I was going to finish with him. He was the strongman today, and I can only hope that this is the beginning of my long march back to being the kind of person that can return the favor someday -- physically, today, even though the guilt for not taking a pull was growing inside me, there was no way I could have. I got occasionally bolstered enough to try, but the wind beat me back down, and back into Ort's draft again. I had to play the game, or I was going to be unable to hold the pace I was drafting in, and would have to send Ort up the road alone.
One small town at a time, and one nature break later, and the group that Ort set out to escape was no-where to be seen. He'd put a huge gap in place, and by consequence was getting us within striking distance of the final control. As the sun touched the western horizon, we dipped below the ten-miles-to-go marker.... this was going to be close, but it was going to be legal, too. The general rule is, if you can't read your bicycle computer readout, or your wristwatch, it is "dark", and lights are required. Finish without them, and you are DQ'd. I felt stupid for not installing the headlight, but for some reason I thought that this ride would be far easier. The extra 10km wasn't helping --- this was technically a "200K", but it was really 210K, or about 133 miles. If this had been a true 200K, we'd have been done... but the road still stretched out ahead of us, and Ort still pulled magically strong, and we were within visual confirmation of our target -- the dead flat nature of the route sometimes has an advantage, because when you are within 5 miles of your next control, you can actually SEE it. The faint elevated sign of the truck stop was looming ahead of us, and the light around us was fading fast.
PUSH!!!!
Hold that draft.... it was starting to hurt, and if I'd been alone, I'd have been DQ'd for certain. There was no way, even as the wind began to die a little with the last light of sunshine fading, I was completely toasted. Ort was consistent, strong, and willing, and we finally made one last left turn, and crossed one last four-way stop, arriving at the last control at 6:21 PM -- and I know because I could still read it on my bicycle computer display. FANTASTIC!
My first successful ride finish in Texas!
Don't let 'em fool ya.... they may not have a real 'winter', but these guys design a tough route.
And I though to myself, after all that flat spinning and pounding chip-seal, and my sore backside from lack of distance exposure for many months, there were people turning on headlights and continuing on, into the night, for a full 400K. These guys down here are nuts.
For me, the base building is indeed in full effect -- as I write this my sitbones area is still sore, my legs a little weak -- but my kung-fu is getting stronger. I am breathing deeper... and despite whatever surprises my midwestern winter will hold, the first of Bob's 200Ks here in KC is coming up in a month, and I will be MORE than ready. Because it won't be flat, the roads may actually be BETTER, and I've actually got some sort of training in!
Observations: While riding along, it was pointed out to me that there were several abandoned railroad bridge structures spanning several small creeks in the area nearing the end of the route. I pondered that some of it might be the old Rock Island railroad line, and sure enough after arriving home and researching it, I found there was a lot of history on those old bridges. I found online a copy of an old Texas railway map dated 1891. Near Mertens and Milford, TX., along what would become US-77, specifically the last section leading into Italy from the south lies the remains of the original M-K-T line, or The Missouri, Kansas and Texas Railway. Aka, the Katy, as in the Katy Trail up here! It goes on north and east to cross thru Waxahatchie, TX. intersecting with the old Red River & Southern RR, and the Houston & Texas Central Railway. A LOT of small Class II railroad history there, and those bridges over the old creeks date back to at least 1870, possibly earlier, as the Katy itself was an incorporation of several smaller railroads that were in operation shortly before that time. The bridges likely have dating plaques on them, but the trick is getting to them from the road, so that might have to wait for someone more ambitious than me -- and someone not pushing the clock towards darkness! I guess I paid attention when I was reading up on this stuff, because my original notion was correct --- the MKT was purchased by Rock Island in 1975, roughly, and was run until Rock Island collapsed into bankruptcy in 1980. All of the lines were pulled up and recycled, but the bridge structures remain.
Thanks: If it wasn't apparent earlier in this post, special thanks to Ort -- there is nothing more endearing than a 25+ mile pull, and I appreciate it. I would not have finished without your selfless suffering into the wind. You and your family's gracious hospitality is greatly cherished, and I look forward to the time when we can ride together again.
Product recommendations: FiberFix spokes -- get one. Seriously. $10 and it will save YOUR ride someday. The wheel was still true enough to not rub the brake pads on either side of the caliper, and it's been packed up and put back in the seatbag for next time - totally reusable.
Do it. Mine sat in my seatbag for two years before this happened, it weighs nothing, takes up zero space, and is absolutely a life saver when a spoke breaks. Nothing else will work, unless you want to carry actual spokes along.
The bike: this was the FIRST ride on the Trek 450 after the rebuild. The longest I had ridden on this bike before heading south for this ride was THREE MILES. Big risk? I wasn't worried, as the fitment was matched as closely as possible to the Kogswell. But, there are always growing and adjustment pains -- for me, there were none. It's perfect. The only pains I had were expected, and totally from lack of saddle time. Even the learning curve to downtube shifters was only a few miles long, and by the end of the ride I was a pro, shifting either lever with either hand, depending on the situation, and got to the point where the reach didn't upset the line of the bike while rolling along -- early shifting was sometimes accompanied by a little shimmy from the handlebars, but one I learned how to isolate the shoulder drop and slight rotation of the arm, I had it licked. An excellent platform.
The tires -- the 23c's days may be numbered. YEah, I enjoy the lightweight, racy look - but the ride quality was just not that grand, especially on Texas' aggressive chipseal. I'll probably not go too crazy, but Specialized's All-Condition Armadillo Elite 25c tires are larger than your average 25, have excellent flat protection and treadlife, and will soften up the ride quality without hurting rolling resistance or speed. That's the only upgrade I think the Trek needs -- but part of it, again, might be relative to saddle time, and my opinion could change.
An EXCELLENT ride, and a great time.... the only bummer was the 1,000+ mile drive time to get to it. It'll be a while before another long road trip, and most of my post ride fatigue was exacerbated by sitting in a car for eight hours after only a couple hours of sleep that night. I made it home in time to spend the morning with the kids, so it was worth it -- but my next brevet will be a lot closer to home, for sure.
Time to go to sleep.... thanks for reading. Stay out of Groesbeck, TX.
G'night!
More details to come later tonite (2/11) as I settle in behind the keyboard and recall some of the finer points of one of the toughest 200K's I've ever ridden. There is something about Texas, me, and riding. Let's get to it...
First off, let me say that the randonneuring spirit in Texas is as big as everything else in the state. One of the most popular rides here in the metro KC area is over at Longview Lake, a recreational club ride, and one of my favorites. Often times during the peak summer months, Saturday morning will see about 55+ people attending for one of three loops of up to 38 miles. It's a great time, and a lot of people to ride with from all levels.
Saturday morning, the ride start temperature was a cold-for-Texas 40 degrees, and there were at least SIXTY people lined up for either of three distances offered that day, 200, 300 and 400 kilometers. Most of the riders were signed up for the 400K. REALLY. I was shocked... it was like July at Longview Lake. Absolutely crazy.
I say that it was cold-for-Texas, because they just aren't used to temps like these, even though the daytime high was forecast for the lower 70's, it was just a chilly morning, and there was a lot of cold weather gear, seriously, like balaclavas and lobster gloves for the conditions - which just made me smile to myself. I finally pulled out the balaclava a couple weeks ago when I rode to work when it was 9 above F in the morning. 40 degrees for a start temp was almost a heat wave for me! In fact, the temp in Olathe at the time was about twelve degrees, so I was just happy as a clam to be in Texas. There were some hearty souls that apparently only looked at the daytime high temps, and dressed for the future. One gent was dressed in a short sleeve jersey, arm warmers and shorts - and that was it, no ear protection, no gloves. He was visibly shivering, and complaining openly. Interesting. Sometimes I wonder, honestly, and I risk getting flamed badly if this guy happens to read this post - but man, this same guy was on a jet-black 2008 Trek Madone 5.9 with full D/A, a seat bag the size of a film cannister, one water bottle, and proceeded to outwardly panic when the ride organizer announced that for the 400K - which he was riding - you would need two post-cards to mail from the two unmanned controls. He freaked out –
"what's a postcard? A postcard? What does she mean?" He wasn't kidding. He grabbed his brevet card out of one of his back pockets, and motioned to it. "Is THIS a postcard, you mean I need two of these? Why do I need two of these?" He had a glassy, wide-eyed expression on his face as he scanned the crowd around him for some sort of validation. I was speechless. So were many of the dozen or so folks looking on with me. Uhhhhh.....dude? I mean, he looked older, fairly intell.... nevermind, he's riding an all-carbon Madone with 20c tires for a 400K. Come to think of it, I don't remember seeing a light on his front end, either. I was a little confused, personally. He got the help he needed, but the rest of us were kind of flabbergasted.
"What's a post-card?" quickly became the quote of the day.
Anyhoo... after that little issue blew over, we were off into the early morning light. Ort and I paired up, as it would stay for the day, for a day of good base building. I was looking forward to the practically flat course, the promise of a tailwind in both directions, and some sunshine. The massive pack set off, and the speeds were nice and moderate in the 15-18 MPH range, as promised. It wouldn't last.
There is something about the pack, the BIG pack... it happens at Longview Lake every weekend. Invariably, someone goes off the front, even if by only a few meters. We reel him back, instinctively. It happens again, the speed comes up a little more. Again. A little more speed. Before anyone knows it, the conversation has stopped and the entire world is going 25 MPH blowing sports drink all over themselves and gasping for more oxygen. Today, especially in the rando crowd, it happened a little slower, but ended up the same way. My base-building promises were eclipsed by the fact that after 9 miles or so, I realized that I was hanging out with Ort in the second group that was all pacing off one of the two tandems in attendance. I look down at my speed, and it's 26. What the...? Typical. Dude, slow down! About the time that Ort and I said out-loud that "we are going WAY too fast.", and "my goal is only 15 MPH average today, man.", someone with a racing background and legs to match was off the left, off the front, and up the road. Some chased. The tandem Captain shifted gears, the pack answered, and the pace went up again. Did Ort and I stay back? Nooooooooooooo, of course not!!! WHA-BAM!!! We shifted and slugged it out on the next "climb", catching the suspect -- who wasn't even winded. He was riding within HIS pace, what was OUR problem? Idiot-boy lives on -- I was primed for action. No serious riding for months, no base mileage -- yeah, let's drive to Texas and have an anaerobic adventure and blow choad on the shoulder, man! Treat!
This repeated for a while, and I was surprised to learn that all of this winter so far wasn't a complete waste. Yeah, I didn't have much road-time, but the fitness center really helped, and while my technique was rusty and my spin a little square, I was keeping up and staying in fairly reasonable cardio territory. But, then, the pinnacle "attack" came, the tandem was flying, the ex-racer was chasing, so I chased him along with three other more-than-worthy Texans, and proceeded to blow myself up about a mile later. Ort catches up and congratulated me on getting it out of my system,
which is code for "have you found out how stupid you're being, yet?"I smiled to myself, mainly because I couldn't talk yet. Yikes. Ok, on to the business of --- oh yeah... base building. Doofus.
We paired up again, the faster bunch reformed and proceeded safely out of striking distance. One other guy joined up with us for a draft, and we three started to make our way along at 15-18 MPH, as promised. Perfect!
Of course, the nasty notion of defeat often creeps up, and then one starts to self-guess, wonder. Beyond all reasonable notions of good training, nutrition, virtue and self-control, the questions come up. "You know, we can try and bridge if you want to..." gets muttered. Gear levers are felt up, and eventually shifted... heads lower...the pace is lifted out of the basement.....
KILL!!!!!
I don't know if I'll ever grow up and just be a nice, controlled rider. Man, that paceline up there about a half-mile looks awwwww-ful tasty..... LETS GET EM!
Ort and I, and the guy following us, began to try and reel in the pack that was ahead of us. I went first, punched out a wicked 27 MPH on the flat... which I held for a paltry minute or so before I started to slow down to about 22MPH, and then 21.... the Ort passed me, clearly showing that he's ridden a few of these lately (this ride marked the FINAL 200K he needed to complete his R-12 goal, so his last 200K was less than a month prior, and he's getting faster all the time.) Finally, the third guy in line passes me up, and they pair up and begin to really make progress closing the gap to the next group. I was out on my own, but gutted out a now-consistent 22 MPH pace, head down into the slight headwind, and making up ground on the slow-n-steady train. Showing my Ullrich, as it were.
Finally, I bridge... but my intent is to get to the front of the line, and as a bonus, I see a stop sign coming up --- attack! I stand out of the saddle, and sprint for it - and make it to the stopsign before the rest of the group. Big deal.... Yeay, me! I get a "good job" from Ort, and a buncha confused looks from the rest of the group -- after all, dude, this ain't a club ride, so chill out. These rando guys down here in Texas are fast by design and exposure, not to make some kind of point. Like, I come from Kansas to conquer your brevet! Silly Viking notions. Go pillage somewhere else, Kansan.
Back to business, after having lit my last match on that grand little stop sign stunt, I was finally ready for some solid base-building.... errr, damage control and limping? Ort, again showing that he was as much a part of the Texas rando vibe as he'd just proven by bridging and still being able to think coherently, was sticking with the paceline after the turn. I was all smiles at my conquest, and I would get to enjoy the glory like most great warriors with minimal brain-power do: alone. The group began to - faster than before - advance up the road, along this really big stretch of SR-31. I was utterly alone.... just me, my shiny Trek, and a big wide shoulder, and truck traffic, and thankfully: no one catching me from behind to rub it all in. At least I hadn't slowed down THAT much. I began to sing songs in my head, wonder where in the car I'd left my brain, and why my Sustained Energy cocktail had stopped working. My stomach was hurting a little bit, like - I wish the next control were here right now kinda pain. Awesome! I began to think about things like soda crackers and Pepto Bismol, and watched as the colored jerseys and spinning legs of the pack ahead of me turned into a little tiny caterpillar of color and wiggly motion...smaller, and smaller, and smaller...... Hmmm.
Where am I?
I realized too, that I hadn't looked at the cue sheet at all. Did I HAVE a cue sheet? Ort was gonna stay with me today.... uh oh. Welp, follow the road, and slow down --- someone will catch me, surely.
Just then, Ort began to pull back from the pack he was in.. so the colorful caterpillar up the road began to look more like a millipede that had dropped someone off at the library. Then that little yellow friend began to get bigger.... and bigger... Hey, it’s a guy on a bike! Then the guy on the bike disappeared again, around a bend. I went around the bend, and didn't see him anymore. Great. Uhh.... keep going. It's not like I've never been here before, and I'm in a totally different state or something....
THERE!
The first control. BATHROOM!!!!
20 minutes later, my card was signed, a few layer shed, and fig newtons engaged. My old friends. Tasty. Effective. Good for at least 30 miles in most cases. Time to GET IT ON!
This time, however, Ort and I would indeed stay together. In typical Texas fashion, the run to the first control marks the end of the fun stuff, and the beginning of the "ok, get real: there's xxx amount of miles left, and we have all day to do it" thinking. I was totally ready for some of that, and had been for the past five miles. Ready to roll, we headed out of Dawson, TX., and headed south towards Mexia. Pronouced like muh-HEE-uh, by the way. Nothing says "you don't live here." like butchering a local town name. mecks-i-uh? uh, no, city-boy. I look easy to kill today.
Texas natives can smell foreigners of all flavors.
We cut across the car-wash -- vitally important -- and head back onto the route, as I said before. Riding now was a cozy 15-17 MPH pace, and I was happy to have cleared my gut and gotten some good food into me. I started to drink more, too. I've found that I am basically a one-trick pony: if I'm going to ride fast, I can't hydrate. Too much going on. If I want to hydrate, I have to maintain a slower pace. That way, I remember to do it. Weird. So, from the first 28 miles of speed I was a little short on personal liquids, and began to make it up in earnest. We stopped in Mexia, not a control, but a great rest area. I had more water, some Red Bull (helps the mental game, sugar-free of course), and some Gardetto's Mustard pretzel rods.... freaking AWESOME. I felt charged and ready. But, we blew a good 40 minutes here, and watched as the last riders on the 200K route passed by on the road nearby. Time to get moving!
Pretty soon, after more of the same long, tiring, FLAT, SR-422 highway shoulder -- gee, I wish I could coast -- we arrived at Groesbeck, TX.... a dimension of sight, of sound... of mind.... you've entered....
The Broken Spoke Zone....
What the....? After miles and miles and miles, I finally broke a spoke - here. Pulling gently into the Double D Food & Fuel station in Groesbeck, out of the saddle, coasting, and not hitting really ANYthing, one of the spokes on the rear non-driveside just gave out, near the hub of all places. Weird.... REALLY weird. A clean break, right at the control. The rear wheel popped quickly out of true, and rubbed the rear brakes hard. Well, at least this was a planned stop! And, this might as well be a plug for a product: I was very happy to know that deep inside my trusty seatbag was a FiberFix replacement spoke. Made of an aramid material with a unique cam-lock fastener that screws into the existing spoke nut at the rim, it's a ride saver, and worked PERFECTLY -- EVEN with my proprietary-design, special spoked Mavic Ksyriums. There was a little investigating to be done, but come to find out the spoke attachment at the rim has an internal brass threaded sleeve that the FiberFix cam threads right into, just like a regular spoke nut. Perfection. I was back on the road in no time, actually, and with minimal fuss.
Strike that.
I got my wheel fixed, alright... got my card signed... and got my food purchase rang up....
But, this is Groesbeck, TX.... a desperately small Texas town.... very close to Waco, TX..... ah, I can see your eyebrows raising now.... mmm,hmmmm..... we close to Waco.... it's....
The Broken Spoke Zone -- a strange and mystical place where the forces of nature and the un-earthly combine to accelerate metal fatigue just enough to stop your travel, and just long enough for the locals to smell the guy that "ain't from these parts".....
Just then, the peace of the spring like day was pierced by the gentle whirr of an electric wheelchair. "Excuse me, gents... how are ya'll today?" Oh, crap.
"How far you ridin'?"
"You like bar-b-que?"
"I know YOU like barbeque, boy."
"What kind of bike is that?"
"Ya'll in real good physical shape for this kinda thing, aren'tcha?"
"You know I built a lot of these roads ya'll'r riding on t'day."
"Back in '64....."
"Back in '73....."
"Down in my basement...."
"I got arthritis REAL bad....wanna see?"
"You aware that January is NOT really the first month of the year?"
"Ya'll know Jesus is the one, right?"
"You like Barbeque?"
"I'm gonna run for mayor...will you vote for me?"
"I know ya'll like barbecue, now..."
AHHAHAHAHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
RIDE AWAY! RIDE AWAY!
Just as we got back onto the road, and I was starting to get images of bad barbecue and unpaid dental bills out of my head, I had almost forgotten that we were in Groesbeck, TX....
"Excuse me, I know ya'll are ridin'....but can you stop a second?" In near doppler effect, someone had stopped their truck on the shoulder, and was standing next to it, waving Ort and I down - right in our path. Oh......crap.
What fresh hell is THIS?
"My wife and I are just bicycle NUTS, and I was wondering if you had the name of the organizer of this here ride, and how I can get in touch with him -- because I want to make sure you have someplace to stop, and I want to set it up for you... FREE OF CHARGE."
Emphasis on the BIG selling point at the end. Ooooo-Kay... let's forget that this is 2008 (I think) and there are convenience stores EVERYWHERE that we can hit... and this is a set route that already has us stopping at one.... let's not even get into THAT. I didn't talk. My lack of deep-south accent, or attempt at a fake one, would probably prove fatal. Ort did the talking, while I tried to avoid eye contact with anyone else that might have been nearby.
Ort gave him the name of the organizer -- it's hard to tell; the guy was probably thinking he was being sneaky by waving tasty candy in front of us kids so we'd give up where our Pa worked, so he could in turn complain that we'd somehow trod on his daisies at some point. Didn't wash with me. I was envisioning some sort of Silence of the Lambs scenario, where this guy and his wife REALLY like cycling.... I mean, cycl-ISTS, as-in we have a collection of them in our basement, and I was the out-of-towner that wouldn't be missed for a couple days. CAN WE GET THE CRAP OUTTA HERE, PLEASE?
About then, Ort rode past me, muttering "don't make eye contact, just go, just GO...."
And so we did.... get me the freak OUT of this town. Our pace was suddenly a little more robust, as we occasionally checked our backs for a black pickup truck, an angry mob, or a surprisingly fast electric wheelchair.
After our adrenaline wore off, we were back to a reasonable pace -- which meant another reduction in overall speed as Ort began to talk up the one big hill on the course, to prepare me for it. The anticipation was killing me. This next section to the next control was 29.5 miles, and it was the LONGEST 29.5 miles I think I've EVER ridden. Yes, the big hill DID come, and go, but the section leading up to it was like 16 miles long, and flat, and exposed --- oh, and the wind shifted to meet us in the face, as it had done the last time we had turned. The promise of a tailwind was looking bleak. At least it wasn't a gale. But the flatness of the road was taking it's toll, and my pre-occupation with repairing my spoke -- which, by the way, was holding up perfectly -- had prevented me from really getting any calories into my body. I was drinking enough, but there was nothing in the tank but dust. Yeeesh.... I was feeling downright BONKED after about 16 miles, and there was still a long, flat way to go. FLAT. F_L_A_T.
F
L
A
T
"Ort, I'm tired of pedalling" I sounded like a meek five year old, asking if we were there yet.
This blows. I swear, the next time anyone back in JC,KS says "man, I hate hills, I'll take a good flat route ANY day", I'm gonna kick them in the teeth. This SUCKS. Let's see....I think I'll try THIS gear for a while. Nice... I think I'll coast... NOPE! CAN'T COAST! SUCKER!!!!
The promise at the next control was pie. GOOD pie... I hearken back to the Cooky's Diner ride of along time back with the Warbird between Pittsburg, KS and Golden City, MO.... ahhhh, that was a good ride.... HOT, flat.... but not ALL flat.... and AWESOME pie. I was in for a treat today, and a trip down memory lane. Unfortunately, memory lane is FLAT.
"Want some pie?" "Too bad, keep pedalling."
Ahhhh..... Mt. Calm, TX. Where the men are strong, the women are chain-smokers, and the children can't keep their hands off of ANYTHING in the freaking store. Dixie's Little Stop, in Mt. Calm -- not exactly like Cookie's Diner, but the pie was freaking AWESOME... and I'm not sure, but I think I got a nicotine buzz off of it, too. Maybe it was the leftovers from my near-bonk on the road TO it, but it hit the spot, and I could feel the sugar pulsing through my veins after a few minutes. I was back, baby. Food was served all around, Ort having a BBQ beef sandwich.... all that talk back there in Groesbeck must've triggered a hankerin' for it, I reckon. (See, Texas is wearing into me by this time in the ride.) I had a Coke, and some Gatorade, too, and took off my base layer ---- it was 75 degrees+, as promised, and the morning dress was just too much. Finally comfortable, and full of good fuel, it was time to head out again...
Somewhere along the way, the time-warp was catching up. It was 2:30PM! The math was starting to look bleak, and I had brought my headlight down to the ride with me, but hadn't bothered to put it on the bike. After all, it's only a 200K -- but I was forgetting that this wasn't one of BOB'S 200Ks, as-in, it wasn't MARCH yet, and the sun was still gonna set in like three hours -- and we had 38.3 miles to go to hit the finish! Uhhh... that doesn't sound like much, but over the course of the last 93 miles, our pace had dropped from a morning high of 18.7 MPH at the first control, to around 15.2 MPH now. Based on that, it was really not looking too good, and even though I was fueled up - it was really too little, too late -- my legs hadn't been this far since October, and I was feeling the lack of saddle time. This next stretch, too, was flatter than the last, and included one section of 23.7 miles on the SAME ROAD. Good gravy. A long, exposed section of highway, with a good shoulder, ZERO trees, no protection from the wind --- which, had shifted AGAIN to meet us in the face AGAIN. Yeah, really. We'd have to average 12.7 MPH is all, but that was feeling like a tall order.
As I pulled out of the control with Ort, I could tell this was going to be close. I pushed with all I could, and managed to sit right around 15 MPH - but it was hurting. Ort was digesting his food, and was able to manage about the same pace, but I knew it wouldn't last -- he'd hit a point where he would get into a groove and start accelerating. I could only hope that I could hold his draft. The slog began.
We rode and rode, and after about five miles looked back --- all the motivation Ort needed was about 1/2 a mile behind us, the slower group was catching us. We'd been trudging along as a pair all day, and the two behind us were proving more consistent, and had gained a third rider to assist. Ort was having none of it. He shifted, I shifted and tucked in behind him - it was on. The approaching darkness was motivation enough, but not finishing last was more-so. We worked. Rather, ORT worked: for the next 28 miles, I was in no-man's land, staring at Ort's rear wheel which was about 4 inches in front of mine. Hands resting over the brake levers just in case, I took on the role of wheel-sucker. It was all I could do, as brief forays into the headwind -- which was increasing -- sapped all my power in an instant, and dropped me into the 11 MPH range. Not good enough, I ducked back behind him. At other times when the road pitched up slightly, growing a little less flat in the final miles, I would drop off his back wheel entirely and fade into the 9's. I'd get inspired, and remember how to spin: engaging my hamstrings, I was able to accelerate back up to him -- but other times I would slog and slog and resort myself to knowing that there were no more turns to make, and I would let Ort go on without me so I could silently finish at my own pace. Lights or no lights, I was not going to stop. I had a taillight, as always, and I would have to hope for good night vision and no serious pavement maladies -- but as soon as I'd get this formulated in my head, I'd look up to find Ort had lifted the pace and drifted back to me to re-engage the draft. He, in short, is the man. Undaunted by the wind or the clock, he was going to make sure I was going to finish with him. He was the strongman today, and I can only hope that this is the beginning of my long march back to being the kind of person that can return the favor someday -- physically, today, even though the guilt for not taking a pull was growing inside me, there was no way I could have. I got occasionally bolstered enough to try, but the wind beat me back down, and back into Ort's draft again. I had to play the game, or I was going to be unable to hold the pace I was drafting in, and would have to send Ort up the road alone.
One small town at a time, and one nature break later, and the group that Ort set out to escape was no-where to be seen. He'd put a huge gap in place, and by consequence was getting us within striking distance of the final control. As the sun touched the western horizon, we dipped below the ten-miles-to-go marker.... this was going to be close, but it was going to be legal, too. The general rule is, if you can't read your bicycle computer readout, or your wristwatch, it is "dark", and lights are required. Finish without them, and you are DQ'd. I felt stupid for not installing the headlight, but for some reason I thought that this ride would be far easier. The extra 10km wasn't helping --- this was technically a "200K", but it was really 210K, or about 133 miles. If this had been a true 200K, we'd have been done... but the road still stretched out ahead of us, and Ort still pulled magically strong, and we were within visual confirmation of our target -- the dead flat nature of the route sometimes has an advantage, because when you are within 5 miles of your next control, you can actually SEE it. The faint elevated sign of the truck stop was looming ahead of us, and the light around us was fading fast.
PUSH!!!!
Hold that draft.... it was starting to hurt, and if I'd been alone, I'd have been DQ'd for certain. There was no way, even as the wind began to die a little with the last light of sunshine fading, I was completely toasted. Ort was consistent, strong, and willing, and we finally made one last left turn, and crossed one last four-way stop, arriving at the last control at 6:21 PM -- and I know because I could still read it on my bicycle computer display. FANTASTIC!
My first successful ride finish in Texas!
Don't let 'em fool ya.... they may not have a real 'winter', but these guys design a tough route.
And I though to myself, after all that flat spinning and pounding chip-seal, and my sore backside from lack of distance exposure for many months, there were people turning on headlights and continuing on, into the night, for a full 400K. These guys down here are nuts.
For me, the base building is indeed in full effect -- as I write this my sitbones area is still sore, my legs a little weak -- but my kung-fu is getting stronger. I am breathing deeper... and despite whatever surprises my midwestern winter will hold, the first of Bob's 200Ks here in KC is coming up in a month, and I will be MORE than ready. Because it won't be flat, the roads may actually be BETTER, and I've actually got some sort of training in!
Observations: While riding along, it was pointed out to me that there were several abandoned railroad bridge structures spanning several small creeks in the area nearing the end of the route. I pondered that some of it might be the old Rock Island railroad line, and sure enough after arriving home and researching it, I found there was a lot of history on those old bridges. I found online a copy of an old Texas railway map dated 1891. Near Mertens and Milford, TX., along what would become US-77, specifically the last section leading into Italy from the south lies the remains of the original M-K-T line, or The Missouri, Kansas and Texas Railway. Aka, the Katy, as in the Katy Trail up here! It goes on north and east to cross thru Waxahatchie, TX. intersecting with the old Red River & Southern RR, and the Houston & Texas Central Railway. A LOT of small Class II railroad history there, and those bridges over the old creeks date back to at least 1870, possibly earlier, as the Katy itself was an incorporation of several smaller railroads that were in operation shortly before that time. The bridges likely have dating plaques on them, but the trick is getting to them from the road, so that might have to wait for someone more ambitious than me -- and someone not pushing the clock towards darkness! I guess I paid attention when I was reading up on this stuff, because my original notion was correct --- the MKT was purchased by Rock Island in 1975, roughly, and was run until Rock Island collapsed into bankruptcy in 1980. All of the lines were pulled up and recycled, but the bridge structures remain.
Thanks: If it wasn't apparent earlier in this post, special thanks to Ort -- there is nothing more endearing than a 25+ mile pull, and I appreciate it. I would not have finished without your selfless suffering into the wind. You and your family's gracious hospitality is greatly cherished, and I look forward to the time when we can ride together again.
Product recommendations: FiberFix spokes -- get one. Seriously. $10 and it will save YOUR ride someday. The wheel was still true enough to not rub the brake pads on either side of the caliper, and it's been packed up and put back in the seatbag for next time - totally reusable.
Do it. Mine sat in my seatbag for two years before this happened, it weighs nothing, takes up zero space, and is absolutely a life saver when a spoke breaks. Nothing else will work, unless you want to carry actual spokes along.
The bike: this was the FIRST ride on the Trek 450 after the rebuild. The longest I had ridden on this bike before heading south for this ride was THREE MILES. Big risk? I wasn't worried, as the fitment was matched as closely as possible to the Kogswell. But, there are always growing and adjustment pains -- for me, there were none. It's perfect. The only pains I had were expected, and totally from lack of saddle time. Even the learning curve to downtube shifters was only a few miles long, and by the end of the ride I was a pro, shifting either lever with either hand, depending on the situation, and got to the point where the reach didn't upset the line of the bike while rolling along -- early shifting was sometimes accompanied by a little shimmy from the handlebars, but one I learned how to isolate the shoulder drop and slight rotation of the arm, I had it licked. An excellent platform.
The tires -- the 23c's days may be numbered. YEah, I enjoy the lightweight, racy look - but the ride quality was just not that grand, especially on Texas' aggressive chipseal. I'll probably not go too crazy, but Specialized's All-Condition Armadillo Elite 25c tires are larger than your average 25, have excellent flat protection and treadlife, and will soften up the ride quality without hurting rolling resistance or speed. That's the only upgrade I think the Trek needs -- but part of it, again, might be relative to saddle time, and my opinion could change.
An EXCELLENT ride, and a great time.... the only bummer was the 1,000+ mile drive time to get to it. It'll be a while before another long road trip, and most of my post ride fatigue was exacerbated by sitting in a car for eight hours after only a couple hours of sleep that night. I made it home in time to spend the morning with the kids, so it was worth it -- but my next brevet will be a lot closer to home, for sure.
Time to go to sleep.... thanks for reading. Stay out of Groesbeck, TX.
G'night!
February 5, 2008
The Great Teacher lay silent.
Sheldon Brown: 1944 - 2008Dear Harris Cyclery friends and customers,
It is with heavy hearts that we convey to you the news that Sheldon Brown has passed away. Our thoughts go out to his family at this time. The cycling community has lost one of it's most passionate members.
From http://www.harriscyclery.com/
I actually got the treat of talking at length with Sheldon Brown on the phone once, and while I was probably one of hundreds that he spoke to that day, it was pleasureable, informative, and he took something like ten minutes talking with me about something so trivial I can't even recall what question I had at the time. It was probably something I was over-thinking, but he was patient and as enthusiastic about the possibilities as I was. I feel lucky to have spoken with him, probably the most prolific cycling enthusiast and writer of our time. There was no-one more passionate, more skilled, more helpful - he will be dearly missed, indeed. Nearly everything I know about cycling theory, science and practice I learned from his webpages. May those writings live on as a testament to his legacy, forever. Rest in peace, great teacher.
If you never have, I HIGHLY encourge you to read everything you find here: http://sheldonbrown.com
February 2, 2008
Is that the biggest state in the Union, or are you just happy to see me?
Welp, this year I'm shaking things up a bit by heading south for the winter.... well, for the weekend, anyways; getting a jump on Bob's regular brevet series, by heading south to Texas.
Land of the big stuff.
Land of LSR.
Land of too many brevets and permanents to count.
Land of opportunity.
Yup, pack a lunch, because we're headed to Italy. Texas, that is. Yes, Italy, TX., home of the Italy Texas 200km permanent bike ride (that's RUSA Permanent, for those joining us late - http://www.rusa.org/)
Time to get to base building in a serious way, and beat the local brevets by about one month.
The first 200K up here starting on March 8th, so this will be a great opportunity to break in the freshly built Trek, and fine tune the body a little before another punishing SR series begins. It's better than nothing, considering that I haven't (pauses to look at BikeJournal.com) ridden much at ALL since probably October, and even then it wasn't anything more than 40 miles or so. That scares me a LITTLE BIT, but, it should be okay - because it's just base building, and I'll have plenty of time to recover.
Plus, it's not like I haven't been active at all -- I just don't have any "road" time. Some careful hours with the tape measure should put to rest any growing pains between the new steed and the Kogswell, so I'm not too concerned there -- but I'm hoping the last eight weeks or so of hard training in the fitness center will translate to a descent ability to hold pace with those that don't HAVE an "off" season. I'll be riding with people that have continued enjoying nicer weather ever since Tejas and PBP, so it'll be interesting!
Anyways, wish me luck, and talk to you on the other side!
Lone Star!
January 24, 2008
Cold is relative.
That's what someone north of the arctic circle once said, in a small town in upper Alaska.
"Cold is relative."
para. ..."Zero degrees, for example, is warm here. And that's on the Fahrenheit scale, too.. I'm talking zero degrees. Zero degrees means the truck will probably run better. Zero degrees means the tires probably won't stay square for too long. Zero degrees means getting the mail is less of a hardship. Zero is almost t-shirt weather..."
The writings of a hardened railroad man driving fuel-oil trains in the land of three-hour daylight, brittle steel, and -60ºF nights.
Zero is still cold to me, tho. I ain't that hard, but I felt pretty good this morning as I set out.
For me, eleven degrees above is "warm" now. I just got inside from taking the trash cans out, and it's almost pleasant outside. No wind tonite helps. This morning was different.
I have spent weeks and weeks griping about the weather. Too cold. Too much snow on the roads. (Ok, that one is legit sometimes) The trail is all iced up. I'll ride next weekend.
Extremes have a way of motivating people. Two weeks back, it was much warmer than usual -- some might say, extreme for January. Of course, a lot of us got out, suited up, and rode. It was nice! Extremes of another kind can motivator also, but only in a few strange cases. I happen to be one of those. For some reason, LAST week 20 degrees seemed too cold to tolerate. THIS week, I saw the first little "negative" symbol in front of a temperature, and got excited. Yeah, I know -- weird. But, it motivated me. I dusted off the BIG gloves, got the nice jacket out of wraps - you know, that special winter gear that is so ridiculous that it's only really usable when it's below ten degrees -- but for some reason I bought a lot of it. Yeesh. With such an arsenal, it's amazing I make excuses not to commute at all -- but I still do sometimes. Today, I - without hesitation - suited up, readied the bike, and set out.
Full ice face, frozen tears clinging to my eyelashes, I made my way into a steady headwind from the north - temperatures at the handlebars must have been WAY below zero with the wind chill, but I was enjoying myself, and the looks from confused motorists! Some nodding with approval, some thumbs up, some agape mouths, some head shakes of disbelief or doubt about my sense of self-preservation. The looks sometimes out-weigh the power of the ride itself. The acknowledgement of doing something extreme, something that only the hearty will do. Something perhaps only the insane would subject themselves to. Weeks of nasty weather, and disappointing encounters with co-workers culminating finally with a "yes" to their questions,
"...so, did ya ride TODAY?"
Yes. Yes I did. And it was GREAT.
Yeah, it may not be -60ºF, and I may never impress those that post in the forums about their epic metric century in deep Manitoba winter-time, with blowing snow and -30 on the dial...but it's pretty good for me. After all, I'm not out to impress -- only to show it's possible, maybe only to myself. It's confirmation that I'm alive, and I still have a sense of adventure - maybe a slight taste for danger. It feels good to have those feelings again, instead of being so afraid.
All I know is, +50ºF this coming Sunday is going to feel HOT!!!!!
Kansas Weather. Rock on!
"Cold is relative."
para. ..."Zero degrees, for example, is warm here. And that's on the Fahrenheit scale, too.. I'm talking zero degrees. Zero degrees means the truck will probably run better. Zero degrees means the tires probably won't stay square for too long. Zero degrees means getting the mail is less of a hardship. Zero is almost t-shirt weather..."
The writings of a hardened railroad man driving fuel-oil trains in the land of three-hour daylight, brittle steel, and -60ºF nights.
Zero is still cold to me, tho. I ain't that hard, but I felt pretty good this morning as I set out.
For me, eleven degrees above is "warm" now. I just got inside from taking the trash cans out, and it's almost pleasant outside. No wind tonite helps. This morning was different.
I have spent weeks and weeks griping about the weather. Too cold. Too much snow on the roads. (Ok, that one is legit sometimes) The trail is all iced up. I'll ride next weekend.
Extremes have a way of motivating people. Two weeks back, it was much warmer than usual -- some might say, extreme for January. Of course, a lot of us got out, suited up, and rode. It was nice! Extremes of another kind can motivator also, but only in a few strange cases. I happen to be one of those. For some reason, LAST week 20 degrees seemed too cold to tolerate. THIS week, I saw the first little "negative" symbol in front of a temperature, and got excited. Yeah, I know -- weird. But, it motivated me. I dusted off the BIG gloves, got the nice jacket out of wraps - you know, that special winter gear that is so ridiculous that it's only really usable when it's below ten degrees -- but for some reason I bought a lot of it. Yeesh. With such an arsenal, it's amazing I make excuses not to commute at all -- but I still do sometimes. Today, I - without hesitation - suited up, readied the bike, and set out.
Full ice face, frozen tears clinging to my eyelashes, I made my way into a steady headwind from the north - temperatures at the handlebars must have been WAY below zero with the wind chill, but I was enjoying myself, and the looks from confused motorists! Some nodding with approval, some thumbs up, some agape mouths, some head shakes of disbelief or doubt about my sense of self-preservation. The looks sometimes out-weigh the power of the ride itself. The acknowledgement of doing something extreme, something that only the hearty will do. Something perhaps only the insane would subject themselves to. Weeks of nasty weather, and disappointing encounters with co-workers culminating finally with a "yes" to their questions,
"...so, did ya ride TODAY?"
Yes. Yes I did. And it was GREAT.
Yeah, it may not be -60ºF, and I may never impress those that post in the forums about their epic metric century in deep Manitoba winter-time, with blowing snow and -30 on the dial...but it's pretty good for me. After all, I'm not out to impress -- only to show it's possible, maybe only to myself. It's confirmation that I'm alive, and I still have a sense of adventure - maybe a slight taste for danger. It feels good to have those feelings again, instead of being so afraid.
All I know is, +50ºF this coming Sunday is going to feel HOT!!!!!
Kansas Weather. Rock on!
January 20, 2008
Trek 450 - The details
Okay, I promised a more in-depth posting, so here it is: It's good for the detail-junkie in all of us, I suppose, and I'm CERTAINLY one of those!
The project was originally started as an all-original Trek 450 from 1985. I remember the day this bike came home with it's original owner, the Warbird, back in probably 198...... hmmmm... 89? Something like that... all I know is, my parents had recently moved into a new house, and I tihnk it was around 1989 or so -- se graduated in 1990, so it was before then... that narrows it down. It turns out, interestingly enough, that I had ridden this bike TWICE before I brough it officially into my own stable, which is kinda neat. Of all the garage sale specials I've taken home (the Schwinn World Sport, The Univega, the Purple Hippo), all the quality used frames that I had no clue the mileage and previous experience of the owners (The Bianchi, Trek 720, the Steamroller.), this was a true prize because I actually knew just about everytihng about it, and had ridden it! Ride number one -- I had NO idea what I was doing, the 'Bird had JUST bought it and brought it over to show me, and I rode it down the street and back. At the time my only bicycling exposure was mtn. bikes -- cheap ones -- and bike trail riding. I was in the middle of working on my 1976 Buick at the time, if that gives you any idea. I was interested -- but not REALLY interested. The 'Bird on the other hand was an accomplished cyclist, racer, and century rider. Again, I moan a little - deep inside - knowing what I missed back then, only with retrospect. It's hard to tell what paths we will take in life, but not discovering cycling earlier is something I regret. The Warbird took the bike home, and that was that. Life went on.
A few years later... more like a decade-plus... I HAD discovered cycling, and turns out the Warbird had taken some time off. We both started up training for the MS-150 in the year 2000, and that year my road bike, the first real road bike of mine, the Schwinn Passage (aka The Weapon) was in the shop for some much needed attention --- clearly fledgling, I had not yet learned to turn a wrench yet. On one HOT August afternoon, it was training time, so we headed out, and I borrowed the Warbirds Trek 450, he now straddling a NEW Trek 2100 road missle. The Trek 450 was still in all-original trim, bar tape faded, shifts a little slow between - but still willing, able, and more bike than I knew how to handle. It accellerated down hills, I rode the brakes -- it was just more nimble than the Schwinn I was riding at the time. It took 15 miles to get used to it, and by the time we were headed back north on Switzer for the bike trail head and the last leg of the training ride, I was REALLY getting into the swing of things, hammering along and smiling. It was there that I decided the Schwinn Passage, with it's aluminum tubing, was not quite as good as I'd thought it was. It started my love affair with steel.
Quick as a flash, other bikes started showing up in the stable, *ALL* of them steel. That was my new benchmark, and it had started with the Trek 450. I went thru the Trek 720, the Bianchi, the Univega, the Steamroller, the Surly Crosscheck, The Schwinn World Sport, finally settling on the Kogswell, and ironically and unexpectedly right back full-circle to the one that started the steel craze and convinced me there was simply no other way to roll. Now, the stable is "perfect" -- something I'd said before, yes. -- but now I have the Kogswell fully outfitted for commutes and rainy brevets, able to carry heavy loads well balanced and shrug off the nastiest roads, and the Trek 450 takes up the reigns as "glory bike": steel, no fenders, no racks, no lights -- just lightweight, fast, fun.
So, essentially starting with a dusty all-original bicycle, I knew I wanted to do something special. I began slowly, stripping all the parts off, cleaning, organizing, rebuilding a few parts, and storing others away as collectibles. I spent literally a couple months polishing the frame down, removing old grease stains, chain lube marks that had seeped into the paint layers, and buff marks form being leaned on this and that over the years. You know, typical use kinds of things. The frame, structurally, can't be beaten. The tubing is True Temper RC, one of the gold standards in the frame world, but not as heard-of as the big guns like Reynolds 5-3-1 and Columbus EL tubes. Still, True Temper on a Trek is like Campagnolo on a Bianchi. It's correct. American tubes in the hands of America brazers, in a time when a lot of manufacturers were outsourcing, and having things brazed overseas. Also critical to the mystique of this frameset, Trek was still considered "small" in the bicycle world. They were very good, VERY good, at what they did when many manufacturers were starting to grow too fast and slip a little. Many of the masters were closing up shop already, many of the masterful marques of the 70's had slipped back overseas again, some dissappeared forever. Trek was doing something special, and 1985 was probably the LAST year they really had everytihng right (IMHO). In 1986, the first aluminum Trek, the 2000, showed up on the market. Again, in my opinion, it was all downhill from there. Yeah, yeah -- they took Lance thru the tour. But common. It's steel. 1986 was the beginning of a period of time where cycling forgot about steel. Only now, many years later and thanks to some masterful custom builders tenacity and the persuasion of many have we returned to a time where cycling shops nationwide again have a wide range of choices in ALL materials, including some of the best steels ever drawn. By the way, True Temper RC tubing can STILL be spec'd to a custom frame, if you like. Some of the good stuff just never fades away. I digress.
This is a landmark frame. The pinnacle of Trek design, the best tubes of the day, all coming together. Shimano had some of their best on this bike, too. The 600 series was the predecesor to today's Ultegra group, back when there was no "105" and Dura-Ace was really, honestly, for racers only. 600 was the best the end consumer gould get, unless they wanted to pony-up for Campy, and for many that was too expensive. Trek wanted competitive spec, however, and interestingly the crankset on this model was NOT Shimano. In an effort to help bridge the gap between the Japanese and Italian offerings of the day, the aspiring racer could get Ofmega. Ofmega was a small Italian firm that was quite successful at being the "value alternative" to Campag stuff, while generally having more quality and less weight than the OTHER "value alternative" Campag knockoff, Zeus. As opposed to being rather blatant and made in Spain like Zeus, Ofmega was true Italian, and offered products that were compatible with, but different enough from Campagnolo as to make them a genuine choice. Back in the days before indexing was king, however, you could nearly get away with any combination of parts and have a good bicycle. So, if you wanted the mystique and raciness of the Campy stuff, but couldn't afford Super Record cranks, you got the Mistral from Ofmega. Same 144mm bolt circle, so you could get the ultra-strong Campag chainrings later on, and they'd bolt right up. Shimano's 130mm BCD was still considered "odd", but they DID have a smaller inner chainring, something that would catch on in a few years after 1985. At the time, however, real cyclists rode BIG gears. 144mm BCD meant a 53 tooth outer ring, and a 42 tooth inner ring. These are numbers that would make most cyclists today cringe, especially considering the comeback of the "compact" 110mm BCD cranks, and common arrangements of 50/36t ringsets. 53/42 is HUGE, make no mistake. Also, 53 is fairly commonplace today, on "racing" bikes - but in 1985 all Shimano could get you was 52 teeth. The bigger Campy sets were truly for racers. Shimano was only 1 tooth away, but numbers always talk. They'd catch on by the end of that decade. Without digressing too much more, this was truly marketed and sold as a RACE bike.
So, let's get to it: What was there originally, and what's there now:
Originally, showing Trek's notion of a good spec meant a variety of good parts from many suppliers, the original stem came from Sakae (SR) in Japan. Forged, not the fanciest finish, but strong and functional. All the top bike had these kinds of stems, save for the flash Italian jobs with full Cinelli equip. Sakae was the best bang for the buck. Sadly, this is one area where Shimano was really an innovator, and I really wish it had one of those. Check out Peter White's website under stems for a picture of one, truly a masterpiece. I digress again. The only drawback for Sakae was weight and length. Biometrics and a more upright randonnuering position on the bike were not really important when designing a good racing stem in the mid-80's, so this stem's quill is short. So short, that even with ample steerer tube left over in the headset arrangement, the handlebars were still about four INCHES too short for me. TAlk about low and aero! Again, in step with the massive crankset spec, cycling was perhaps a more manly affair than it is today - or maybe just one more suited for those familiar with pain and struggle. Truly, the more flat you could get your back, the more power you could put down, and stems of the day reflect that.
For its replacement I chose Nitto's Technomic. It has all the same elegance the original stem had, the 117 degree drop to align with the top tube, and the smooth 26mm clamp with single, purposeful fixing bolt. Perhaps not as elegant as Nitto's Technomic Deluxe, this model does have more rise to it, and I was able to get the handlebars up to my preferred 1" below the saddle line height. A good balance of power and ultra-long distance comfort, and the extra bit of silver rising aboe the headset looks good, too. Surprising, and to the solid, bomb-proof reputation of Sakae, even though this new Nitto stem is about 5 inches longer than the Sakae it replaced, it's still lighter. I'm thinking of keeping the stock stem in the glovebox of the car, for personal protection.
Atop the stem is my trusty Cateye Micro-Wireless computer. Keeping with the front end, the next issue was the handlebar. I like a wide bar for randonnuering, and the first problem with the stock bar was the width. The tape measure read an even 40cm, which for me is too narrow. After removing it from the stock stem, it was also clear that this was a CHUNK of steel. Heavy, but forgiving with regards to road vibrations - but probably only a function of sheer mass. FActor in the fact there are no "ergo-bends" in the bar -- not a deal-breaker for EVERYone, but it is for my hands -- and the decision was made. I shopped for a decent deal, based on what I had available to me. Unfortunately, Easton stopped making the venerable EA50 and EA70 series of regular-old 26mm road handlebars. They have all gone to oversized 31.8mm clamp sizes for newer bikes. I slowly see that I am out-moding myself with each passing year of progress on the modern bicycle market: finding parts that look correct and fit to these older style stems and frames is getting harder each season. I took what I could get, and the closest match to the Easton bars I like so much was Salsa's Pro-Road bar. Of course, and again unfortunately, it's only available in modern black. So, I get a little clash up front between stem and bar, but it works for me and makes it "mine". Some wonder why I didn't match to the Nitto stem and get a Nitto silver aluminum handlebar. Well, I've been there; my problems start with the design of the bar being sleeved, as in there is a center finishing sleeve that is squeezed onto the actual handlebar itself, in Nittos' case about a 25.8mm bar has a sleeve around it that give it the 26.0mm clamp surface. It looks AWESOME, make for a great bar with regards to diameter with finishing tape and the etched logos -- it's all very nice. BUT: that sleeve tends to loosen over time, and I don't know if I'm too aggressive a rider or use my uppoer body to assist on standing climbs or what, but I eventually always ended up with an audible CLICK from the sleeve/bar inteface. Once it started clicking, nothing I tried would remedy it. So, I went back to less fancy handlebars that are uniformly 26.0mm, with no sleeve at the center. The stem clamps the bar itself, and all is quiet. If anyone makes a one-piece 26mm road drop handlebar that looks as good as Nitto's two-piece, I'd consider it. Until then, black it is. It works, and more importantly than anything else, it fits my body:
The headset is the only original thing on the entire bicycle. It's perfect, and there is simply nothing wrong with it. It's a old Tange Levin model 1" threaded headset in good old CHROME. THE REAL, pre-EPA chrome that just SHINES. Made in Japan, and even with the original ball bearings and races intact, it's smooth and solid. I cleaned out the old grease, packed in new, and reassembled. I was also thrilled to find online that Tange still makes the Levin headset, in 1" and 1-1/8" sizes, threaded. Some things just never need a re-design, and this is one of them.
My dream headset is probably a Chris King no-logo chrome model - but I don't think the shine is quite as nice as this piece, and until this one shows signs of wearing out, I'm not changing anything.
The brake levers that original came on the bike were Dia-Compes, as were the brake calipers. Brakes in those days came in sets with the levers and the calipers packaged together. In a time where most drivetrain items and such were indeed interchangeable, the one area where you couldn't get away with it was brakes. Lever pulls, cable diameters, sometimes the quick-releases (still to this day for Campy) were in the levers instead of on the calipers. If you ran Shimano calipers, you ran Shimano levers, and so on. In this case, the levers were badly worn, machanically perfect, but the hoods were ripped and had lost a lot of their original cushion. A shame, really, because in vintage white gum with high-rise "non-aero" brake cable fitting, these levers were pretty unique, and would have been an interesting conversation piece. Sadly the
calipers are utterly forgettable, which I'll get to later. So, the
levers, being worn out and not really comfortable, had to go. In their place, my new standard the Cane Creek BRS-5 levers, with Campagnolo "Ergo" style hoods and ramps, and Shimano-style levers for easy reach and pull. Simply PERFECT brake levers, if there is such a thing. Quick releases in the handle, AND at the wheel make getting big tires out a breeze - but that's not really an issue for this bike.
Might as well talk about the brakes to round out the front-end discussion on the Trek. Hands down, brakes are the third in line as the most expensive thing you can buy for a bike. Drivetrain, wheels, then brakes. Shocked at the high prices of the new Dura-Ace calipers, my dreams of making this an ALL Dura-Ace bike will be put on hold for a while. I leaned more towards the inexpensive-but-good side of the table for now, just to get the thing rolling, and at $18.00 a PAIR, I got a steal. Of course, we DO get what we pay for, don't we? Well, it's not ALL bad. For these clampers I turned to my friends at Tektro. They make a LOT of brakes for the original equipment market for manufacturers from Cannondale to Cervelo, and their stoppers are good. You never have to think about them, they aren't too flashy, but not too light, either.
The trade-off is a little extra, as I mentioned, weight, and possible not quite as wickedly mechanical as a Shimano or Campy dual-pivot caliper.
Still, it stops the bike. In the case of these Model 420s, however, they really ARE low-ball. They must have been take-offs from a stock bike, as the front has a little scuffing, but it's not too bad. The pads were utter junk, however, and I have found this to be true of ANY brake, at almost any price. Only the new Ultegra and D/Ace 6600/7800 series calipers come with really good pads. Campy's stock pads are "okay", and Tektros are junk. What do you want for $18 a pair? Mechanically they are tried and true dual-pivot short reach road brakes, not unlike a good Shimano Sora level. The trade offs at this low price point, besides the pads, is the lack of a quick release at the caliper. This is where the aforementioned Cane Creek brake levers saved my skin. I can still spread the pads and get the wheels out without issue, but I knew that going in - which is why these brakes ended up in the shopping cart. The first thing I did, however, and you'll notice in the shot: the brake pads are NOT stock Tektro. Without even rubbing the casting wax off them, I removed the stock pads and put them in the recycle bin. In their place are Shimano BP-6600 cartridge pads filled with Kool-Stop salmons in the front, and all-weathers in the back. If the pads make the brake, these brakes just jumped up a few price points, and the stopping power is more than adequate. The stoutness of them, and the slightly flawwed finish do have me putting brake calipers BACK on the "wants" list, tho. I am searching the globe for a reasonably-priced set of Dura-Ace BR-7700 (old 9-speed) calipers. On the used market, they seem to be fetching around $50 a pair, which isn't bad. For now, tho, this bike stops on a dime -- but there is an opportunity for an upgrade here.The seatpost, also replaced. The original Sakae SR post is long gone, removed by the WArbird in lieu of a Bontrager post of substantial length, to accomidate his post-high school growth. When he brought the bike back out in 2000, there was not enough adjustment in the original post for him to get the seat high enough, and so it was swapped. It was also too short for me, oddly, as most of the racing seatposts of the day proved to be. Like their stems, Sakae's seatposts were quite stout, even for being so short - 180mm in some cases, compared to the 250mm minimum of today's road posts. The Warbird, for contrast, had a 400mm seatpost designed for one of those wildly sloped compact frames. He's TALL. I am not. So, I swapped out the Bontrager and used the Thomson seatpost that still had my trusty Selle Italia Flite Trans/Am mounted to it, from the Cannondale I had. Again, the only problem is the color being black. The Cannondale was black, so I never thought about it. I don't think it's a huge problem, but with all the rest of the silver on the thing, a black seatpost looks "off". Another opportunity for an upgrade, probably a silver Thomson, maybe a Nitto Model 65 seatpost, in the future.
The drivetrain is a mix of good Shimano stuff, divided between what I had on-hand, and what I had to go out and scrounge for. Old 9-speed Shimano stuff is getting hard to find in NOS condition, or even gently used condition. The 10-speed stuff took over SO quickly, and much of the 9-speed production stopped immediately at the factory. The market didn't hold onto it for very long, as many that were nervous about the new tne-speed stuff snatched it up for future projects. I took what I could get. Returning breifly to the crankset discussion of earlier, it was clear that the Ofmega was a unique and classic arrangement, but it had to go because of the obsolenscense of the 144mm BCD chain-ring. Yes, as the 80's became the 90's and true racing bicycles yielded a little to more recreational pursuits (at least between Greg Lemond wins, and the Lance Era), the chainrings and freewheels of the day followed suit. Shimano's 52/42 racing arrangement yielded to market pressure by offering a 53 tooth large ring for racers, and using their smaller 130mm bolt circle they offered a 39tooth ring for easier climbing. Campy followed suit, as their model ranges were far to race-oriented for the new reccie scene. They reduced their bolt pattern to 135mm, which is where it remains today - barely squeezing in the teeth for their 39-tooth answer to Shimano's set-up. Eventually, the 42 tooth inner ring on road bikes would dissappear. As Campy gave up on the 144mm bolt circle, Zeus in Spain was filing for bankruptcy amid many Campagnolo-brought patent lawsuits, and Ofmega began to lose money as well. The 144mm chainring is a VERY hard thing to find these days, mainly a holdout for track racers -- many standing Keirin rules called for a 144mm bolt circle, and that stuck. So, the market DOES offer the 144mm circle, but you can usually only find REALLY expensive track chainrings, no pins or ramps for easy shifting. So, back to my Ofmega crankset, and the badly worn chainrings (to Warbirds credit, as to THIS DAY I have never seen a truly worn out chainring besides these). I had to do something else, just to make upgrades possible in the future. I opted for a full drivetrain rebuild up front. The square taper bottom bracket came out, and in went one of Shimano's Octalink V1 105-level models. Why 105? The last 105 group is SO good, it's silly. It's only detriment is weight, and the grams are so miniscule between 105 and Ultegra that Shimano had to physically make the appearance of the Ultegra better than the 105 stuff, to make aethetics a consideration. Only Dura-Ace is markedly lighter, but it's cost prohibitive -- and if I thought finding old 9-speed cranksets in general was difficult, finding Dura-Ace 9-speed cranks specifically was impossible. The dream may someday come true for a full-D/A 9-speed period bike, but it won't happen right now. The choice was 105 for the bottom bracket and the crankset for now. For $40, I couldn't complain, as there isn't a single mar anywhere to be found on the crankset. It's out-of-the-box perfect with brand-new chainrings, 53x39. It's modern, but not the garrishness of the new 10-speed stuff - which just looks weird on a frame like this one. 9-speed it is, and it's pretty. 
The pedals are Shimano, also, the PD-A520 series single-sided SPD road pedals. SPD means toughness, and I can ride with my sandals or my racing shoes and not have to swap anything. And, they are lighter than anything the Look crowd can offer. Plus, I don't have to change all my shoes -- one pedal platform for me. The front derailluer was also updated. This is one area where the 2002-era 105 stuff shines, and compared to the Shimano 600 original front derailluer, it's light-years ahead. Today's derailluers are light, quick, and accurate. The front derailluers of yesterday are the bane of mechanics everywhere. Springs are too heavy, adjustments too narrow, and cages too wiggly. This was a no-brainer.
The pedals are Shimano, also, the PD-A520 series single-sided SPD road pedals. SPD means toughness, and I can ride with my sandals or my racing shoes and not have to swap anything. And, they are lighter than anything the Look crowd can offer. Plus, I don't have to change all my shoes -- one pedal platform for me. The front derailluer was also updated. This is one area where the 2002-era 105 stuff shines, and compared to the Shimano 600 original front derailluer, it's light-years ahead. Today's derailluers are light, quick, and accurate. The front derailluers of yesterday are the bane of mechanics everywhere. Springs are too heavy, adjustments too narrow, and cages too wiggly. This was a no-brainer.The same was true for the shifters. I kept things period-correct by sticking with downtube shifters. Since I'm a huge fan of bar-ends, the transition between bikes is not a big deal at all. I rode on STI's for a while, and they are nice - but I like the feel and ability to trim of the bar-end/downtube sets. Plus, they look cool. It's funny how much today's modern reccie-racers obsess about weight on the bike, and STI levers on one of the heaviest things you can add to a bicycle. When I took my old ULtegra STI levers off and swapped in the bar-ends on the Kogswell, I simply couldn't believe how chunky those things were. It's a downgrade (to some) in functionality, perhaps - but a serious upgrade in weight to go backwards a step. How fast do you REALLY need to shift? Well, for me, this stuff works, and for this bike it looks right. In keeping with the eventual full-D/A theme, I sought out the good stuff for this one, and found a set of NOS 9-speed Dura-Ace downtube shifters. Perfect! The Shimano 600 shifters that came off were perfect, but the original friction-only setup was giving the Warbird a few problems as I remembered, namely auto-shift: when climbing out of the saddle, the natural sway of the frame was enough to slacken the cables to the point the rear derailluer spring could begin to take up that slack to a greater degree than the old lever with it's worn friction washer could hold back, and CLUNK...auto-shift. Even tighted down quite a bit, there was not any grip left in those old levers -- so they were removed and tucked away. The Dura-Ace levers look nearly identical, and actually weight MORE than the old stuff, but that's in large part to the SIS indexing assembly these new models were made with. Indexing will make for faster shifts at the downtube, and will also serve to lock the gearing in place, so autoshift is a thing of the past. The cam-like action of the front derailluer shifter, in contrast to the constant ratio of the original shifter, makes for lighting fast front-end upshifts, too, which explains why Lance always ran a front downtube shifter on this racing bikes, all the way up until Shimano 10-speed came out. Look at the old photos closely, and you'll see it. STI can't beat the downtube shift when it comes to the front chainrings, and Lance knew it. A quick reach down, and he was GONE. I feel a slight kinship with the past by running downtubes, and at the same time a connection to recent racing history. There will always be a story there when someone asks my "WHY downtubes?" 
The rear end is a similar story, and starts with the original rear wheels. The original Matrix rims were shot, and the old 6-speed rear freewheel was a boat-anchor. Time for upgrades all around. The wheels came from my Cannondale, one of the things I held back for myself when I sold it off. The now timeless Mavic Ksyrium, probably the most successful wheelset Mavic has turned out, and arguably the most successful aftermarket wheelset PERIOD. Strong, light, aero, and with bomb-proof and field serviceable hubs, these wheels simply can't be beat as the perfect jack-of-all-trades and master-of-a-few category. Silver finish, period appropriate, and light, light, lighter than original. Plus, the 9-speed cassette slides right on. Again, 105 specd perfectly for the rear cassette, the grams game being second to value and strength. 12-23 teeth is the perfect (for me) performance gearset, and versatile enough for brevets, too. The rear-D is another carry over, and one of the parts that I have had the longest, longer than I've had ANY of my bikes. Originally the very first upgrade part I bought for the Schwinn Passage, it travelled to the Bianchi, then to the Kogswell, and now to the Trek. The bearings have all been rebuilt and it's smooth as butter and VERY quick between shifts, the perfect match to the D/A shifters. Note the very cool and Trek-exclusive inside-chainstay cable routing! 
The chain is A SRAM, my standard go-to, Model PC-991-HP. Super, Super strong and lightweight - but not ridiculously so. Makes the shifting snappy, and cruising is effortless and quiet. Love this chain, and it's worth the extra money.
The chain is A SRAM, my standard go-to, Model PC-991-HP. Super, Super strong and lightweight - but not ridiculously so. Makes the shifting snappy, and cruising is effortless and quiet. Love this chain, and it's worth the extra money. 
Overall, the bike came out better than I expected. The paint still needs some work, but it's got a story to tell, and some of the marks, like in the fork shot at left, I just can't worry too much about touching up. The frame is not in any danger of collapse from rust, as it was always stored inside, and just to be sure I gave the frame a through coat of Frame Saver internally. It's solid, straight, and strong. Again, immensely excited for some mileage on her, as the weather has really closed in here lately. More "wintery mix" forecast for the next 48 hours or so, so we'll continue to dream a little, and wait for the roads to clear properly for a maiden run on this steed. It's one of those things about old Treks, and good bikes in general; the Kogswell, as nice as it is, has gotten dirty, has the fenders and the history of sloppy conditions now. The Trek, I know it's seen some epic, epic rides -- the 300K from 2002 that I had such an ordeal on in the heavy rains and cold temps, the Warbird was also on that ride, on THIS Trek -- so you know it's been wet, etc. It's just like a new pair of shoes, tho. I can't take a maiden ride on it and get it all sloppy. The parts are still so shiny -- it has to get dirty gradually. Yeah, that's it. Seriously, one of my finishing touches on ANY bike is reflective tape. You can see it on the wheels in the very top full-bike shot. I do a lot of night-time riding, and it's just essential. I got out the sciccors and the reflective tape roll, and sat down behind the Trek in the garage, ready to apply it to the seat-stays, facing to the rear. I carefully trimmed the tape to length and width, and held it up to size it. I stopped. I couldn't do it. I put the reflective tape away. It's not that I will never ride this bike at night or anything, no... but those thin, sexy seat stays -- in red.... I couldn't do it. Still haven't. Probably won't. Reflective ankle bands will be plenty. It's RED, man... putting stickers on it.... it's just.... I dunno.... WRONG. What a bike.
January 16, 2008
First Look - Trek 450 complete!
Details to come.... but after a short test ride around the block.... well.....
HOLY........nice...
A couple small upgrades in the next year, and it's perfect. (bow)
Time to get to training... '08 is here!
January 15, 2008
Song of the Week - 1/15
"Turbo Lover" by Judas Priest.
I joined the band last August, and it's been awesome.
Leather pants on the next 200K. It's on.
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