Poetry in Motion

So what's the best way to start what promises to be a long and busy Saturday? With an early morning ride, of course. Up at 6:15, eat breakfast (important not to forget that one), get dressed (really important not to forget that one) and out the door.

The weather report indicated 20+ mile an hour winds, and I believed it. If the wind feels really strong in the subdivision, then it’s definitely going to be something spectacular when I’m out on the road with fields on every side of me and precious little in the way to slow the wind down or block it.

As I started out, the sun was low, and I looked at my shadow in front of me. I have many times thought about trying to take a picture of it. I recently found out that Missy has had the same idea about her shadow, and I can remember Bobby (he who once chased a dog barking (Bobby was barking, not the dog)) pointing out our shadows on a hillside as we rode past and telling me how he always wanted a picture of that. It must be a cycling thing.

I turned so that the sun was off at an angle instead of straight behind me and saw my shadow grow long and thin. It looked like I was tiny and the tires on my bike were about the right size for a monster truck (or like the font tire on a penny farthing bicycle). (Yes, that combination may seem a big incongruous to some. I am okay with that.)

Then I passed a parked car and my shadow suddenly swooped in close to me and the shadow me looked like he had broad shoulders and large muscular arms. Shadows are definitely illusory.

When I made it out to the main road, I found that the wind more than lived up to my expectations.

I did discover that, this early on a Saturday morning, the roads I ride are almost bereft of traffic. I could hear the birds, the sound of my chain, the quiet whirring of the tires on the pavement. Periodically I caught whiffs of honeysuckle.

I found myself on Mt. Carmel Church Road again and decided to ride until I actually found Mt. Carmel Church. This would have been rather rough on me if the church had long ago been torn down or something, but I did eventually find it.

It was a hard ride. The wind seemed to be against me nearly all the time. I still haven’t quite figured out how that happens, but I know that sometimes it does, and this was one of those mornings.
I remember hearing about a cyclist who listens to books on tape while riding. He climbed a steep hill without even realizing it. He seemed to feel that was a good thing. I have to admit that I disagree. The pain is part of the ride, and sometimes it’s good to suffer on a ride. Besides, I like to be attentive to the ride itself. I don't want it to fly by without my realizing it. I like to hear the various sounds associated with it, such as those mentioned above, as well as the sound of a car coming up behind me should there be one.

I did find myself wondering what other cyclists think about when they ride. This occurred to me about the time I found myself trying to remember the structure of a haiku. Yes, I know this is an odd thing to be thinking about while riding, but it just sprang to my mind unbidden.

I did eventually recall that it’s 5, 7 and syllables and is supposed to have some reference to nature in it. Here, for your pleasure and amusement, or possibly for your discomfort and disdain, is the haiku I wrote right after remember the rules and while pushing my way into a screaming headwind:

Lactic acid burning
Muscles push the pedals hard
Today the wind sucks

I now invite you to submit your own cycling related haiku. Go on. Be brave.

I am writing these words on Mother’s Day, so happy Mother’s Day. Because it’s Mother’s Day, I stayed home with my lovely lovely and the rest of the family instead of going out on a ride, but I’ll be up early to get some miles tomorrow morning before I have to go to work.

See you on the road.

Helmets

Because this is a generally humorous blog…

No, wait. Maybe that’s going too far.

Because this is a blog that generally tries to be humorous…

That’s better.

I thought we’d talk about death and injuries today, largely because I came across a website that annoyed me. Yes, I know that it’s dangerous to write a blog post while annoyed, but I’ll take the risk. The website in question was written by someone who can’t figure out why cyclists bother to wear helmets. He wanted to find out if helmets are really of any use.

So we thought we'd cast aside all the "it just makes sense" and "if just one life is saved" rubbish and find some real, hard numbers to evaluate the effectiveness of crash helmets.

Now, as a scientist (and a card carrying geek), I am all in favor of using real, hard numbers to evaluate things. On the other hand, I don’t think I’d automatically toss out “it just makes sense” and “if just one life is saved” as being rubbish. Anecdotal evidence isn't necessarily inaccurate.

So, on this website they compared fatality rates per 10,000 vehicles, per 1 million population and per 1 million miles traveled and compared cars, bikes, motorcycles and pedestrians, and they found that the death rates for pedestrians and cyclists were about the same for every million miles traveled (though cyclists were quite a bit more likely to be injured than pedestrians were). Oh, and they also found this out:

It turns out that alcohol is a major player in all fatalities, not just car crashes. Drunk drivers cause 40% of car fatalities; drunk riders cause 29% of motorcycle fatalities; drunk bicyclists cause 24% of bicycle fatalities; and drunk pedestrians (we are not making this up) cause 33% of pedestrian fatalities. Apparently, staying sober while trying to move, or not trying to move while drunk, are both excellent ways of improving one's odds of survival.

I just reprinted that part because the concept of drunk cyclists (and drunk pedestrians) startled me, although I suppose it shouldn’t have.

Scientific studies can generally be divided into two groups:

1. Wow. I didn't know that - Viruses aren't actually living organisms.

2. No duh - Students who read do better in school.

I mention this because I would have thought that the concept that driving or riding or walking or operating heavy machinery or attempting to ride an elephant while drunk is probably bad is a "no duh" kind of result.

Now, let’s assume for the sake of argument that all of the data presented on this website is accurate. It is jam packed with table like this one:

	Death Rate	Injury Rate
From cancer	2010	N/A
From pneumonia/flu	237	N/A
From poisoning	73.5	1842
From falling	50.9	27100
From suffocation	44.0	137
While walking	16.9	280
From Drowning	14.8	28.5
While driving	12.9	987
While motorcycling	9.8	717
On horseback	3.8	127
While bicycling	2.5	453
Struck by lightning	2.0	8.0
While skiing	0.2	43

which is then summed up like this:

Nearly twice as likely to be killed by a horse, six times more likely to drown, 100 times more likely to die of pneumonia or the flu, than to be killed while riding a bicycle. More than twice as likely to be seriously injured in a car, and four times as likely to be poisoned, than seriously injured on a bicycle. And keep in mind, according to the CDC, only a third of those bicycle injuries are head injuries.

Well, how many of those riders who didn’t get head injuries were wearing helmets? How many of the riders who got head injuries were wearing helmets. I didn’t actually find that information on the website, so either I missed it or the author didn’t know, but it seem a relevant point to me.

And the conclusion to be drawn from the mountain of data?

Helmets save lives? Well, sure, occasionally they do.

Oh, well, if it’s only occasionally…

In the real world, biking is no more dangerous than taking the dog for a walk, and often even safer.

I’ve been walking a dog for considerably longer than I’ve been riding a bike, but I’ve never had any dog walking related injuries, and I’ve never met anyone who has had any dog walking related injuries. I have picked up a few cycling related injuries and I know quite a lot of people who have picked up cycling related injuries. I also know a couple of people who, if they hadn’t been wearing helmets, would probably be in a lot worse shape than they are today (one of those people being me). I’ll grant you that this is only anecdotal evidence, but it persuades me.

And the final word from the author of the website?

We feel no more need for a helmet than we feel the need to strap a lightning rod to our shorts. But then again, we don't bother playing the lottery either.

I’m not quite sure how to take this. Does this mean that the author feels like he needs to wear a helmet or not? I don’t know. I do know that I won’t ride without one, and I hope you won't either.

See you on the road.

Hopefully with a helmet on your head.

Book Report

I really have to watch what I read. I’m reading waaaaaaay too much heavy stuff with a great deal of social significance. That’s fine, unless it gives me delusions of grandeur and makes me think I can write something with a great deal of social significant. That’s when we’ll all be in trouble. So I decided to read something else. I vacillated between anything by P.G. Wodehouse (always a safe bet if you’re looking for something funny) and a book about cycling. That’s when I went to the bookshelf and realized that I have waaaaaaay too many books on cycling.

(Sorry about that. I think the aaaaaaa key is stuck.)

So I have decided to tell you about some of them.

A Significant Other: Riding the Centenary Tour de France with Lance Armstrong by Matt Rendell.

This is a great book, if you only read every other chapter. (Try it. You probably can’t make yourself do it.) Basically, Matt Rendell followed Victor Hugo Peña around while he was riding in the Tour de France on the U.S. Postal cycling team with Lance Armstrong. (The way the media covered the team, that should have been their names: The U.S. Postal cycling team with Lance Armstrong.) (Oh, and I don’t suppose he literally followed Victor Hugo Peña around, although, for all I know, he did.) (Whew. That was informative.)

Just about every other chapter is what happened on various stages and Victor Hugo’s thoughts about it. These chapters are fascinating. The other chapters were written my Matt Rendell, and they include some of the densest prose I have ever attempted to wade though, and I have read quite a few scientific journal articles, so I have some experience with these things. Try it for yourself.

The Rider by Tim Krabbé. (I hope that Mr. Krabbé appreciates all the work I went to in order to figure out how to type that é).

This is my favorite cycling book of all time. If it isn’t yours, you probably haven’t read it yet. It is an account of the Tour de Mount Aigoul (which is a race I had never heard of) written by a rider who rode it (who I had also never heard of, but what do I know?) and it’s wonderful. I have heard it referred to as a true account and I have heard it referred to as a novel and I have read it described as “hovering ambiguously somewhere between memoir and fiction” which is a very fancy way of saying, “I don’t know.”

I suggest that you try the English translation, unless of course you can read Dutch, which, after all, many people are quite able to do.

Why, you may ask, am I telling you about books when I got up at 6:30 this morning ready to ride despite that fact that a Labrador Retriever tried to walk all over me during the night? Because the idea of riding in an electrical storm just didn’t appeal to me somehow, so I went back to bed instead of getting all those lovely miles I had been looking forward to.

Oh, well. Maybe tomorrow.

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.

Early Morning Onwards

A whole weekend and no time to ride.

*Sigh*

Then Monday comes. I get off work a little early, get kitted out, fill my bottle and am on the point of putting on my shoes when events get the better of me. Errands that must be done now pop up and I have to put everything away and set to work.

The upshot of all of this is that I make the ultimate sacrifice today. I get up extra early so that I can get a ride in before I have to head out for the day. It rained hard last night and a 60% chance of rain was predicted for today, but when I rise with the sun, the rain is gone.

A quick breakfast and out the door and I have the wind in my face and my legs, which felt heavy yesterday, and feeling pretty good today, despite the early hour. Excellent.

I try to plan a route that won’t be too clogged with school traffic, and that worked out pretty well, too.

There was a Far Side one time in which a scientist puts on a helmet that lets him understand what dogs are really saying, and they are all saying, “Hey! Hey! Hey!”

I don’t believe it. Sometimes dogs have a definite message to convey. This thought struck me today right after riding up a hill into the wind. I was moseying along catching my breath when a huge German Shepherd said some truly unkind things to me from not far away and then bolted in my direction. Jerked out of my reverie, I started to push the pedals harder when I heard the sound of a chain scraping a tree and realized that this dog was not going to be able to make good on his threats.

You know, sometimes you can tell when a dog is serious and when he’s not. A playful dog can still knock you down, but while you’re lying there concussed he won’t eviscerate you. This dog was not that kind of dog, so I’m glad he was chained up.

I passed a herd of cows at one point, and a single cow lifted it’s head and looked at me. I looked back at the cow, and we started at each other as I passed, the cow’s head slowly turning to keep my in sight.

Why did this cow look at me when the others did not?

What she the only smart cow? The only curious cow? The only cow who’d never seen a cyclist before? The only cow who’d already finished her breakfast? After I passed, did she nudge the cow next to her and say, “Well, would you look at that?”

Today’s lesson in how to get strong:

1. Ride in the wind.

2. Ride uphill.

3. Ride uphill and into the wind at the same time.

That was my morning.

A group of three dogs saw me coming and set out in pursuit, but they never left their yard. I like these dogs.

I had the rain on my mind as I was riding, but the heavens didn’t open up while I was on the road. About three miles from home I was riding into a stiff headwind, and I could smell the rain in the wind. It was the leading edge of some storm that was headed my way, but it didn’t reach where I was until I wasn’t there anymore, so I didn’t get wet.

All in all, a great ride and a great way to start the day. I’d do it again tomorrow morning if I didn’t have to be at work so early. Still, there’s always tomorrow evening.

See you on the road.

To Stop or Not to Stop

I don’t know how it is for you, but if I’m cruising along at a high pace, I hate to have to slow down. I’d much rather keep the high pace going, even if it hurts, than to slow down and then try to work my way back up to speed again.

I thought of this on a recent ride because I was keeping a good pace going, then the road curved and the wind changed, and I knew I could kick the pace up even high. Unfortunately, not too far ahead of me was a stop sign.

Should this be a moment of decision or should there be no question about what to do?

(This is like being in class on test day and hearing one student ask another, “Did you study?”)

Of course, with a stop sign coming up, I should stop. What’s more, this particular stop sign was at a blind intersection, so I should definitely stop, and I did, but I didn’t want to.

I can remember riding with a group when our road crossed a major four lane highway. There were cars coming, but they were some distance away, and each rider had to decide for him or herself whether to stop or to dart across. I was not one of the darters.

The prudent members of the group stopped and watched the reckless members dart across the road. (Or the wimps stopped and watched the real riders dart across the road. Take your pick. Because I know which side of the road I was on, I’ll go with prudence.) After the traffic passed, we crossed to the other side. (No jokes about chickens are needed here, thank you very much.)

The riders who had darted across had waited for us, riding in slow circles on the road, and, when we arrived, one of them said, “I’d almost rather get hit than stop.” I think the key word in the sentence must be “almost”.

This made me think of another point where a road we ride crosses the same highway. As the story was told to me, Bobby had just purchased a brand new and very expensive titanium framed road bike and was on his maiden voyage on the new ride. As the group was crossing the road, he hit a patch of gravel and laid the bike down. Cars were coming, and Bobby prudently (there’s that word again) jumped out of the way, leaving his brand new bike lying right there. He danced up and down at the side of the road in fits of agony as car after car whizzed past at fifty five miles per hour (we’ll assume they’re all law abiding citizens) and one after another nearly (but not quite) plowed into his new bike. At the first opportunity he dashed into the road, scooped up his bike and pulled it to safety. He reportedly didn’t ride that particular route again for many many years.

See why you wait?

I also think it was Bobby who nearly gave a dog a heart attack. This came up because of the stealth dog.

The stealth dog lived near a big red house. He would see us coming from quite some distance away and would then hide himself before some bushes right next to the road, his legs braced just like a sprinter before a big race. Then, as we rode by, he would burst out of cover and pursue us, barking his head off. If you forgot that you were in the area of the stealth dog, he could scare the bodily fluid of your choice right out of you. After an attack of the willies induced by the stealth dog had passed one day, Bobby proceeded to tell me about another dog that had chased the group and then turned around and given up. Bobby turned around, leaped off his bike and chased after the dog, barking at the top of his lungs.. With one look of mingled amazement and horror, the dog had tucked its tail between its legs and taken off like a scared jackrabbit.

I realize that has nothing to do with stopping at stop signs, but I never claimed to be organized.

See you on the road.

The Weight of the Day

Sometimes you carry the weight of the day onto the bike. Yesterday was like that. I hit those first two hills and just had to grind up them slowly and ever more slowly, gasping for breath. Then I left the neighborhood and hit the main road, where the wind sucked the like out of me, and I just put my head down and pushed the pedals around. (I should say that I didn’t put my head too far down, since I do like seeing the road ahead of me.) It looked like I was just going to have to grind this one out, so I just tried to find a rhythm and settle into it.

Of course, what happened is what usually happens – my body woke up and the ride got easier.
It was hot and windy just like it’s been all week, but at least this time the flies weren’t lying to me about it being windy. Every single one that I passed was cracking and snapping, streaming out from the flag pole in a way that left no doubt at all about the breeze that was blowing. There is some comfort in that. At least I knew I wasn't imagining the wind.

The route I had originally picked out was just too short to help me unwind, so I lengthened it on the fly. I decided that I would ride down roads that were new to me and get some exploring done. I turned down an unfamiliar road to find that it was bumpy and rough. I could hear my water bottle rattling in the cage (and could almost hear my teeth rattling in my head). Then, after a mile or two, the road dumped me out someplace familiar. My journey of exploration just become a journey to places I go all the time.

I suppose at some future date I might glad to know that, from that point I can go that was instead of this way, but at the moment it was just kind of annoying. I turned around and headed down a new road. The wind was in my face, and the road was still rough. It was hard going, but sometimes you need hard going.

My favorite street name was “Winding Lane”, largely because it was about as straight a road as I’ve ever seen in my life. I also passed a housing development that I thought was called Stonehenge. This struck me as an odd choice of name, and then I realized that it was called Stonehedge. This struck me as an even odder choice of name. Stone…hedge? Does this make sense?

I can remember the most pleasant moment of the entire ride. I had riding into a head wind down a rough road and made a ninety degree turn. The wind became a cross wind and the road surface was as smooth as could be. Everything suddenly got easier. It was great.
I ended up with my longest ride of the week and one of the best. By the time I got back home, my bruised spirit was doing much better, and now the weekend is here.

I’m liking this.

See you on the road.