Fit

You can pay a lot of money to get someone to scientifically fit your bike to your body. I have not done this. But, I hear you ask, you have clearly established yourself as a science nerd of the first water, so why have you not done this? I’m glad you asked. Well, I’m glad I asked for you. The answer is, because I don’t want to. Now that we have that settled…

Some years ago when I moved from the trusty Trek 1000 to a new bike, I suffered what could be called some “discomfort.” I realize that this is a vague word which can be used to describe many things, and I have chosen it for that very reason. When I went from toe clips to clipless pedals, I experienced some “discomfort” that I wouldn’t try to describe in a family blog. When I switched bikes, the “discomfort” was a pain in my…um…legs.

So what do you do in such a situation? You ask somebody who knows. I asked several people, and, when I indicated the area of my legs that was trouble me, Jörg asked, “In the adductors?”

Well, now is the time to admit that I am a biologist with a woeful lack of knowledge of the musculature of the human frame. I am not necessarily proud of this lack, but the fact is that I am a molecular biologist by training (which isn’t anywhere near as glamorous as it sounds), and structures much bigger than a cell don’t really interest me that much, so my response was pretty much just to point.

Then Jörg, who was apparently making a habit that day out of asking questions that I had no idea how to answer, asked, “What’s your setback?”

Huh? (Actually, I don’t think my response was actually as coherent as that.)

Jörg kindly explained what “setback” was (and in case your ignorance is as vast as my own, it’s the horizontal distance between the bottom bracket and the front tip of the saddle) and how to measure it. This involved getting a plumb bob (the fact that I actually knew what that was did make me feel a bit better about myself) and a tape measure and getting to work.

Fortunately, the trust Trek was set up correctly for me (not that I had anything to do with that, you understand) so I could simply measure the setback of that saddle and then use that same measurement on the new bike. Simple. Well, it should be simple. For me, nothing like ever is simple, but I got it done in the end.

I mention all of this now because recently I’ve been back on the Trek while my other bike waited for tires. I got the new tires on and discovered that the saddle was waaaaaaaaaaay out of place. I put it back more or less where I thought it should be and went for a ride.

Apparently, more or less where I thought it should be wasn’t quite right, so I finally broke down today and remeasured the setback on the two bikes. It was wrong. (Yes, I know that a smart man would have written the numbers down the first time he measured the setback, but there you are. I didn’t do it. Draw your own conclusions.) I moved the saddle some more, and, pretty soon, I’ll go on a ride to see how it feels.

Wish me luck.

I’ll need it in the end.

See you on the road.

Gluteus

We begin the blog today with a quote from one of the literary masters:

BUCKY: (Swinging an imaginary sword) HA! YA! FA-TANG! FA-TANG! OLÉ! This movie rocks! I would be such an awesome gladiator! All I need is a good gladiator name!

ROB: How about “Gluteus Maximus”?

BUCKY: I like that.

ROB: Yeah. I thought you might.

SATCHEL: Oh, you totally look like a “Gluteus.”

BUCKY: Thank you.

When you ride, there are three places where you contact the bike: your hands, your feet and your…um…nether regions. Now, we certainly spend time thinking about gloves and shoes, but most riders I know spend a lot more time looking for a good chamois. (Just in case you don’t know, the chamois is the lovely thick pad inside a pair of cycling shorts that makes the saddle easier to bear.)

The question of regular shorts vs. bib shorts is one that generates some enthusiasm, but not as much as whether or not the shorts have a good chamois or not.

Then there is the question of chamois cream. Do you or don’t you? (Only your hairdresser knows for sure.) If you do, what kind? And how much? After all, sometimes friction is a bad thing.

These are vital questions to some people. Let’s face it, if you have some enforced time off the bike, it isn’t your hands and feet that are going to hurt when you start back riding again.

Steve’s advice to me when I first bought a road bike:

“About the saddle…”

“Yes?”

“Tough it out.”

Along those same lines, check out Sheldon Brown’s “Real Man Saddles.”

Now, I am not saying that anyone should take the time to actually remember what you have read after reading the blog (it's your brain, do what you want with it) but if you do, then you may recall that, after some time off the bike, I managed to get quite a few rides in this last week. (Hooray for me!) This does have consequences of a gluteal nature. (In the interests of keeping things clean, we won't dwell on the nature of the consequences.) For this reason, I've been building up slowly to get myself reaccustomed to the pressures of the situation so to speak.

It's a small price to pay for the pleasures of riding, after all. Of course, sometimes I regret the fact that we have wooden stools to sit on at work instead of comfy chairs. There are things more uncomfortable than a bike saddle, you know.

Keith thought he had found the ideal solution the time he bought a woman specific saddle. (Being a biologist, I am aware that there are a few differences between the genders, but I still don't know what makes a saddle woman specific.)

I did learn a few things from Keith's experience, however. I learned that, according to Keith, that was both the most comfortable and the most uncomfortable saddle he had ever used. It was comfortable simply because it was comfortable. It was uncomfortable because there is a logo on the saddle that identifies it as a woman specific saddle and there are guys in the cycling club who can't resist the temptation to address the topic from time to time. Eventually, Keith abandoned the saddle for his own piece of mind.

Of course, after you've been riding for awhile, your nether regions do get used to it and stop hurting. (Unless you do the infamous double century - 200 miles in one day. I didn't want to sit down at all for a couple of days after that.)

Keep riding and it will all work out in the end, I suppose.

No, I really should apologize for that one, but it was just too obvious to pass up.

See you on the road.