Wind and gas prices - they both blow

Woke up this morning to just what the weather man had promised - a cold front moving in from the north. Of course a cold front in August is just wind, so big deal - unless the wind is blowing northward.

This particular front was blowing due south, which is ideal for the morning commute. After rolling west down Dublin Blvd. onto Vincent, by the kennels, I broke up the morning meeting of wild rabbits where Vincent meets Nevada Avenue. I wonder what those rabbits are doing? It's like I'm breaking up a board meeting.

One of the benefits of the bigger crankset is speed. Heck, it's the only benefit. With the wind this morning, I achieved a new personal flat-road speed record of 34.5 mph, but still managed to miss the evil stoplight at Austin Bluffs. This involves some heavy braking, which is why I will never own a bike that does not have disc brakes.

As I approach work, I ride by several service stations as Circle Drive makes its way under I-25. As of last evening the Shell station was selling regular for $2.51/gallon. This morning, regular was $2.85/gallon. There's something very criminal about a 34¢ hike in gasoline prices overnight. I don't know if it is gouging, supply/demand or just plain old greed. There are so many theories, and Economics is not a perfect science, like math is. Perhaps my friend Jim, who builds up a head of steam and has somewhat of a conspiracy theorist's slant on the modern world, could author a short dissertation on this.

I don't care how expensive gasoline gets. The only power I have is to not buy it, and I do that by riding my bike everywhere except on dates. So yeah, everywhere. Come winter time, riding in snowy, icy, 15ºF conditions is no fun whatsoever.

Let's hope the wind turns around and blows north over the next few hours, eh?

Of sight and periodicals

An uneventful commute this morning. For some reason though, I could not get it going. Took me an hour to get the usual 35 minute routine accomplished. Wake up, watch weather report, make waffles (great fuel), shower, dress, stretch, liftoff.

Mornings are weird because of the dawn. Sure, it happens every day, but I can never tell whether or not I should wear the clear lenses, the amber, or just plain sunglasses, and changing lenses in mid-commute is a pain. I have several hundred dollars left on my medical flexible spending plan this year, so I'm going to get Rx lenses for the trip...

The article on The Trip 2005 came out in USA Hockey magazine (September 2005 issue), and my God - the picture makes me look like a giant. I typically exist on the other side of the camera. Hopefully the circulation of the magazine (largest of any hockey publication worldwide - including The Hockey News) will help spread the word about sponsorships for the ride.

When flat is good

"Sure, it's a few more miles, but it looks flat to me."

Famous last words said while looking at a map.

Each day on the commute home I pray for a tailwind. Headwinds are most common, but on this day, seeing how I am reversing the commute, I expected a tailwind. No, no, no - Mother Nature cannot have this. Let's throw 15 mph in my face why don't we? Suuuuure, why not?

My trip to Pueblo West on Friday was not supposed to go like this. At the risk of sounding like a chronic complainer, nothing went my way on that seventy-mile jaunt. The first fifteen miles were normal enough - the commute to work each day, but with additional traffic, two fire engines in a big hurry and lots of red lights (I'm usually on this leg of my trip at 5:30 am), the going was slow.

Now, into new territory.

Highway 85/87 through Fountain leads to Old Pueblo Road on the east side of I-25. I'm guessing this is how one got from Colorado Springs to Pueblo before I-25 was introduced. Old Pueblo Road was the obvious choice as it is illegal to ride a bicycle on an interstate highway, and the west side (preferred) of the interstate had broken and disconnected frontage roads. So, headwind blowing, idiot motorists out ("Hey moron, get off the road!") and half a gallon of water, I set out.

Surely something must improve if I am to enjoy the remaining 45 miles of this trip. Old Pueblo Road forks into Hanover Road, which takes me due east to Meridian. This is where the opening quote of this post comes into play. It amazed me that riding away from the mountains I was still riding uphill. Take it in stride, dude. There's no shoulder to speak of and no traffic, so that could be construed as a good thing. Meridian Road is the one that will take ease some of the pressure. It will get me out of the headwind and into...

TWO INCHES DEEP OF GRAVEL FOR FIFTEEN MILES.

Holy geez, if there is a cycling Hell, I was in it. I had to stop three times just to utter a few curse words and gather my bearings. Once I left the gravel for pavement I thought things would get easier, but as it turns out, I was pedaling headlong into one of those famous Colorado afternoon hail/thunder storms. Neat.

Luckily, I only saw a few close flashes of lightning and a few droplets of rain (which cooled me off). The harsh reality was that the gravel took it out of me, and when I say 'it', I mean every last joule of my energy. By the time I reached my destination, my neck, shoulders and core were aching. My legs felt great, I just could not muster the energy to go another foot on two wheels.

I guess the payoff was that when I awoke Saturday morning, there were no sore muscles and I was ready to golf 18 holes. The whole intent of riding down was to plot the course for the beginning of The Trip 2005. I succeeded, but am not looking forward to the next time I must travel that way...

A familiar path

Been in meetings most of the week, so after-work activities have limited my bike-time. This weekend I'll be at Desert Hawk CC in Pueblo West, a nice little community west of, well, Pueblo. I've decided to make up some miles by having my pals tote my golf bag and luggage down to the course for me while I ride the 60 miles down there this afternoon. What's cool about the whole ordeal is that, for the past few months of route planning for The Trip 2005, the most difficult past has been planning the first leg of the route from Colorado Springs to Pueblo. I-25 is not an option as it is illegal to ride on the shoulder, and there's no way I can keep a 75 mph pace for that long ;-)

The first 50 miles of today's journey will take to the proverbial fork in the road. Instead of turning right to go golfing, come September 29th I'll turn left and head out toward Kansas. This eases the burden of navigation for the trip by a healthy amount.

Attached to this post is an image of The Beefeater all sooped up and ready to go. I am considering taking both bikes on the trip, but have not yet decided on a 'starter.' It will all depend on performance over the next month.

T-shirts and cold weather

Almost a week later and the weather patterns here have not changed. Chilly in the mornings and I always expect to ride home in some form of percipitation. For some reason last summer seeemd longer, and I only began riding in July...

T-minus thirty-seven days. I'm really going to need to hunker down and focus. Can't afford to not ride every day. Some say take a break every week, some say taper the week before, but my body tells me to go, go, go. I'll have part of the winter to rest.

Oh, I ordered t-shirts yesterday - they will be sporting the banner you see above on across the chest. $10 each! Get yours today!!!

Seasons change

I would like to know who authorized the early arrival of autumn. There is no room for cold hands and seeing my breath in the middle of August. For the love of God, I swear someone is trying to keep me off my bike.

HA! Good luck, pal.

Hail no

Right now there are not enough bad things I can say about rain. Riding home in it once in a while is fun, twice is ok, three times and the weatherman needs to STOP @&*%#&@ DRINKING! Twenty percent chance of rain, my eye.

Not a mile from work and Mother Nature throws a couple hailstones at me, so I ditch over to the nearest canopied building. [Ten minute wait] In a steady downpour, I set back out, and within 20 feet I am soaked to the bone. Hey, wet is wet.

Another two miles and you can guess what happens at the railroad crossing.

Puddle after puddle after puddle, wetter and wetter and wetter I become.

Sweat drips into my eye - hmph. Can't tell the difference any longer.

At the corner of Nevada and Austin Bluffs, I pull up to stoplight (red, of course) next to a Hummousine - at least four Hummers long. I glance over and smile, even though I cannot tell who's in there. My active imagination pretends it is Maria McKee, in town for a concert I somehow did not know about, and all she wants to do right now is offer me champagne and warmth in her big, long car. Reality tells me it a janitor at a local middle school who last week won the lottery and thinks I'm an absolute dolt for riding in the rain.

Home safe and sound. At least my pants didn't rip. I didn't bring a back-up, and we go commando in these shorts, people.

Two wheeled conversation

The past two morning around here have been like October by the yacht harbor back home. Foggy, chilly (but not too) and not a lot of activity on the roads.

As I hit the five mile marker, I blew by this guy (I was screaming through a green light) and proceeded to pedal on. Of course, as always, when you're cruising along at a brisk pace, a red light will inevitably stop you, and the guy you passed will meet you at the light.

Shrug.

I don't know where the guy was going at 5:45 am, but we struck up a conversation about disc brakes, "What model year is that frame?," "It sure is no fun riding in winter here," and "Catch ya next time."

What was cool was, there I was in my Texas jersey, my Heineken bib-shorts, my coolmax socks and clipless shoes. The other guy was in jeans, a flannel shirt, a baseball cap, sneakers and both of his tires were running low on air.

Just goes to show ya, it doesn't matter where you're from or what you wear, there's always good conversation when you're on a bike :-)

The fog is getting thicker

...and Leon's getting LARGER!

Great line from Airplane!, the movie.

This morning's commute is one I would hope to see some mornings while on the road for the actual Trip. Thick fog, about 55º and not a lot of traffic. After spending the weekend cleaning the herd of bikes, it was actually difficult deciding which horse to ride this morning. No flats, but since it is getting darker in the mornings (5:30 am), I get to wear the long sleeved flames jersey. Keeps me warm, dry, and visible. In looking for a picture of said jersey, I found the short-sleeved version being almost given away.

Nice.

Hope summer creeps back in here soon. I'm gonna need some heat to make the ride more enjoyable.

An Ode to Preparation

Yesterday was a driving day. Driving days are more and more unpleasant for me, not due to gasoline prices, but to the energy I am not using and the stamina and muscle I am not building. I can almost feel it seeping out of me, like air from a flat tire.

SPEAKING of which...

On the way to work this morning, I was setting speed records at the splits intil I heard the sound no cyclist likes to hear.

Phss, phss, phss...

I was surprised that with the volume of all the 'phss-ing' I had not yet hit rim to ground. Pulling over to inspect the tire, I was secretly hoping my mind was playing the 'Flat Fakey' game with me. The look on my face must've been something to see, for I had been stung by what looked like a very small, sharp railroad tie - one inch long, a quarter inch wide and thick.

I had no patch kit (other bike has this), no tire levers (other bike), no cell phone, and no money (other bike, other bike). It took me 20-25 minutes, a few naughty words under my breath, and some dirty, sore hands to remind myself...

Get two sets of everything and flats won't be that much of a hassle.

Except bikes. As you can see, two bikes can be hazardous. Thank God I at least had the right size tube.

On the road again

Forgive me readers, for it has been over two weeks since my last post. Business took me to Philadelphia, Penn. and I was away from my bicycle (which agonized me every day I was away). After so many weeks and months of spending at least two hours of quality time with my bike, it was like having part of my body amputated.

After being away for two weeks, getting back on the road is tough. I had to drive to work yesterday morning, my first day back, as I had errands to run. In bed by 8:00 pm las evening, I just could not get out of bed this morning. I like to leave the house by 5:30 am, but this morning it was all I could do to get out of bed by that time. After much internal conflict and discussion I concluded that if I don't ride this morning, there's no telling which ploy I will use to talk myself out of riding the rest of the week.

Oddly enough, the first day back is never that bad. My legs felt like pistons, but my lungs were just pooped out. It took me a little longer to get into work this morning, but after pedaling up the hill to begin my trip this morning, the sensation returned - the same sensation that keeps me motivated to train so hard. I'll need the physical training to be on the safe side, but what continually kees me going are my kids and the memory of my father.