Sharing the Road...Bikes Too?

Standing at the light at 26th and Youngsfield I held the front of the left turn lane, line of traffic politely waiting behind me for the light to change. I wear a bright yellow jacket. I have a flashy, blinking light. Factoring in that it was only 5:00 with the pretty mountain sun a-setting, should imply that I’m one visible dude on a brand new shiny bike. So when the light changes and I proceed forward with my turn left onto the bike lane, imagine my shock when I hear the familiar sounds of brakes and tires grabbing pavement behind me. No, not car tires, or truck tires…or crotch rocket motorcycle tires, or cement truck, Fedex van, Ford F250: it was bike tires. “Oh sorry” was the acknowledgement I received from the cyclist who ran the red light in the bike lane before nearly t-boning me in the intersection. I stammered trying to come up with just the right words to say. In my astonishment I think all I got out was, “Guh waf a flick a dumpus” (you get the idea--gibberish and maybe an expletive-- I don‘t recall it happened so quickly.)

And to think that one of the chief complaints of motorists is that cyclists don’t obey the stated rules of the road. Imagine what the drivers waiting patiently for both the lights and me to turn would have thought at my getting rammed by some spandex clad, commuter tool on a bike. “I told you so” comes to mind, and it is sad how right they would have been. I know not everyone who gets on a bike wants to be an ambassador for the entire population of American cyclists. Some people don’t want to involve themselves in the politics of “sharing the road,” others don’t think it’s that big of a deal either way and some cyclists just prefer to do what they want. Yet, let’s face it, when you’re out riding a bike, even by yourself, you become “cyclists.” Most of the outspoken critics of bicyclists having equal access to public roadways do not distinguish between those cyclists who play by the rules and those who choose to make them up as they go. They see one rider run lights, weave through traffic, or see a group taking up more than their necessary share of the lane and these examples feed vitriolic stereotypes. Providing these cynics with more examples to justify their ‘cyclists gone wild’ view of bicycling only encourages their resistance and belief that bikes have no place on the road with cars.

Consider recent local legislative efforts here in Colorado to ban cyclists from riding on certain mountain and rural roadways. What began as the perspective of a handful of people, based on their negative reactions to what they perceived as cyclists pushing the limits, now has gained momentum to the point that local governments are actually considering these types of rules. While the messenger or the roadie may feel very cavalier or entitled in their navigation of traffic at their own personal discretion, they need to consider that their actions will reflect not just on themselves but on everyone else who wants to put two wheels to pavement. And while consideration for “the other guy” is not often the hallmark of this type of self-centered behavior, eventually it will come full circle. Unfortunately, until cycling becomes more accepted in the US as a method of transportation, the public will be on the watch for examples of how cycling just doesn’t fit in with the norm. In my opinion, all bike riding folk then have but two options: help provide an example of how bicycling can be a safe and logical method of transportation or just steamroll those people in traffic and see how far you get by yourself.

Surly

Surly: bad-tempered, unfriendly, rude, and somewhat threatening

The bad tempered part pretty much summed up my attitude this morning when I woke to find 3-4 more inches of snow on the ground. Didn’t Mother Nature know that I have a new bike I wanted to ride to work today? I procrastinated my departure all morning, shuffling around, lounging on the bed, anything to avoid either riding in the crap or catching a ride. I tend to be one of those people who can readily forgo the lure of material possessions, however when I do have something I somewhat obsess over it. I’ve always been very diligent about taking care of things, almost to the point of neurosis. The advantage is that your stuff tends to last longer and look newer for the life of the object. The bad part is that your wife gets annoyed at your perpetual fussing and you never get comfortable with things. I hated the idea of riding my new bike this morning. I think it almost made me violently ill; certain that I’d crash it or get it covered in Mag Chloride and have it totally eaten through with rust by the afternoon. My psychosis was bad enough I almost considered riding my Cannondale instead…how sick is that?

Then I recalled something that I read in a book or on a blog once about people who covet their bikes. The author, making fun of people who have “rainy day bikes” said something to the effect of, “Bikes are tools and nothing more.” A bike doesn’t have a soul. A bike isn’t your best friend. It won’t last forever. Keeping them inside all the time, or stored in your dining room (what nut job would store a bike in their dining room…oh yeah me…) only speaks to the degree to which you’ve come to project emotions onto an object that never had them to begin with. This mental state is sick. It is wrong and it had me firmly in its grasp. I needed to just build a bridge and get over it: time to ride.

Well if a bike is a tool, then the tool you want for riding on a cold, snowy, slick, awful day such as today is a Surly Long Haul Trucker. It would be like showing up to a duel with an AK-47… “Oh you meant pistols at dawn? Kak-kak-kak-kak-kak—suckka!” I’m not sure if it’s the weight of the bike, the wide track of the wheels, the tread on the Continentals or my superior, innate bike handling prowess or what (it could be my prowess, don’t laugh), but the bike hammered through the snow, slush and crud. Where my Cannondale would have chattered and bounced among the tracks and blocks of snow on the shoulder, the LHT plowed through them with ease. Halfway through my ride I became thoroughly convinced that if everyone had an LHT no one would fear riding in snow. I couldn’t believe I almost grabbed a ride or hopped the bus today. Think how sad my bike would have been sitting in the garage missing out on its opportunity to prove itself…ok personifying again. But it would have been an insult to the folks at Surly who took a very brash and menacing attitude towards the elements when they crafted this bike; like cold-cocking Mother Nature in the eye and not even feeling bad about it.

So I made it to work and pulled in to the bike room glad to have ridden. I didn’t crash. I didn’t drop the bike on ice or slip on some slush. I made it in one piece and I think my Surly will live to ride another day…especially since I brought a little towel with me to wipe it off and make sure that Mag Chloride leaves my shiny blue CroMoly alone...its all about baby steps, old habits die hard...the first step is admitting you have a problem.

Long Haul Truck Drivin’ Man

So I'm an Aquarian…big deal. True to form I'm kind of a detached, independent, free spirited, brainy type, and this being the frigid season of the Aquarian I recently had a birthday. Yahoo for me, cause my wife and parents conspired to hook me up with a new touring/commuting bike as a gift. Imagine my shock the other day when I came home from work and rounded the corner into the living room and standing next to the fireplace was a bright blue, 2010 Surly Long Haul Trucker! I couldn't even really talk for about 15 minutes. Now, I've commuted to and from work for 4 years and we've done some long riding and touring trips but these have all been on Craigslist beaters. I got a new mountain bike 10 years ago and 3 years ago got my first new road bike since I was a teenager and my parents got me a Murray for like my 13^th birthday. So I've ridden auction and Craigslist bikes for everything in between. My ride across Missouri a couple years ago was on an old Novara touring bike I got from some old timer up in Evergreen. My current steed, the 84 Cannondale, has held up well and been a tremendous ride for a $60-ish dollar find. I made my bike trailer. I've scavenged parts from swap meets, sale bins etc. I do pretty much all of my own maintenance and firmly believe that the best aspect of bike ownership is the low cost-footprint of it. I love a good cheap bike like an old pair of sneakers: reliable, comfortable, carefree and therefore expendable. All that humility aside and in the brilliant duality only a true Aquarian can muster…I LOVE NEW BIKES! Some people want $50,000 cars and fancy clothes and nice homes. Screw all that crap…but a shiny new bike…with crisply shifting components, unmolested tread, waxed frame…there's nothing like it! I don't care if it's a $10,000 road bike or brand new $300 cruiser: new bikes are cool and every time you get one (which I've only had one new bike in the past 10 years so this isn't frequent) it's like that childhood first bike Christmas all over again. So I hugged my wife upon finding my birthday present…but I'll readily admit it, I hugged my new bike even harder!

First things first, let me talk about the Surly LHT. The 2010 model comes in both a 26" and 700c wheel size: Kate rightly got the 700. Surly builds its frames from 100% CroMoly steel: don't be fooled this is a beefy, strong bike. It features: Shimano bar end shifters, Tiagra and XT Derailleurs for front and rear, an 11-37 Deore cassette for a wide range of gearing, Alex Adventurer wheels and Continental tires. This bike comes complete from the factory with rands and eyelets for bolting every form of bottle, rack or touring accoutrement known to man. It stores its own spare spokes on one of the rear chainstays. It includes a notch for mounting a frame pump. Includes mounting points for fenders and 3 bottle cages "…and I even like the color." This particular one, the first of the 2010 models to be delivered to Campus Cycles, arrived the day my wife picked it up and was assembled by our good friend and very talented bike mechanic Jason Gardner (owner of Jinji Cycles.) No one had ever ridden this bike…ever! My ass would be the first to grace the new WTB mountain bike saddle: that's awesome.

After I got my head straight and exited my new-bike daze, I set to work stripping the Cannondale of its racks and accessories (sorry Cannondale, you'll make a great fixed gear project.) Each component got cleaned, de-grimed and put on the Surly with loving care.

Actually, everything fit into its appropriate eyelet with ease and the entire transfer of racks and fenders went the smoothest of any of the bikes I've mounted them to. I had an appointment yesterday to go in to Campus to get fitted and select pedals. We got to the store shortly after they opened and within an hour were back out the door with a pair of Shimano SPD pedals and a ripe and fitted LHT, ready for its maiden voyage. The bike is a beast. Those online reviewers who say the bike is slow will be pleased with the 700c wheel offering (new this year but only on 54+ size frames) but will still likely complain about the bike being somewhat of a lumbering giant. The upright posture characteristic of the touring fit will take a bit of getting used to, since I typically ride hunched over in more of a racing position. See a crack or bump in the road…just go ahead and hit it, why not? The Surly's frame makes for a ridiculously comfortable, stable and quiet ride. Unlike my aluminum frame bikes, the steel dampens road vibration and absorbs bumps like nothing else. Hell, driving down the street I hit bumps alongside cars and the cars made more racket from the impact! The bike initiates into turns surprisingly well for a tank, likely due to its long wheelbase. I'd compare it to driving a very large sedan: big, stable, comfy, cup holders and fancy trim everywhere...its everything but the old person smell. Touring on this thing will be a piece of cake.

Yesterday, despite the crap weather, we set out to put the Surly through its paces. I loaded up a pannier with a bunch of weighty junk and we set off to ride around town for a while. Not a sprinter up hills, the gearing however offers options for handling inclines with ease. After a while the upright positioning seemed less annoying and more comfortable. I didn't mind riding down the path, hitting every seam and crack in the pavement because the frame barely translated a shudder to my handlebars or seat. I easily could get used to a ride this smooth. We rode almost 30 miles in the afternoon and upon returning home I felt pretty relaxed, not too tired from pushing the hefty bike or sore from the deliberatly taxing riding. Now I have visions of loading the bike up with gear and heading out onto the open road: free to roam and take in the scenery with ease. I'll probably adjust the angle of the handlebars a bit, to get a little closer to that race feel I like, but I won't go too crazy. I don't want to ruin the pleasurable experience of the H-auling part of the Long Haul Trucker. And in true semi form, when I get this bad boy loaded up with 60-70 lbs of gear just stay the hell out of my way, cause I'll be truckin'.

The Long Haul Trucker...in all its glory

Aptly Named

Sorry guys, she's cute, has great taste in bikes and is taken!

"We Are Traffic"

Parking flanks both sides of the narrow funnel for traffic in and out of the office complex parking lot. This layout creates a gauntlet of sorts for pedestrians trying to play frogger with the morning traffic coming in and out of the lot. Such was the case today when a line of a dozen or so cars streamed off the side street and into the thin entrance way. On the far side of traffic stood a mother with her very young child, she had to have been 3. Hair in a dozen tiny braids, wearing her pink coat and carrying a lunch box, the child held her mother’s hand as they waited for one of the cars to let them cross. Even while inching forward at micro speeds none of the cars wanted to give way and yield; not even a tiny human sized opening was permitted to allow this child through. They waited in the 20 degree temps under a hazy blue cloud free sky. The little girl stood close and frowned. She’s obviously seen cars before, but in this manner, streaming forward, exhausts billowing and brakes squealing with each creeping shudder of progress, the sight must have scared her. She stepped even closer, practically huddling in refuge under her mother’s coat. But at the end of the line of cars, silent and wobbling in a creeping track stand was a guy on a bike. He let them forward, in fact he could pass as close or as far from them as possible in the line of traffic and still only seem a whisper to them; the ticking of gears and derailleur no louder than a mantle clock. The mother and child freely stepped forward and made their way. Confidently clutching her lunchbox the little girl now moved out into traffic, but there was no traffic. No exhaust, no menacing grill bearing down on her, no large tires to dwarf her and render her an obstacle no more imposing than the often ignored speed bump in front of them. No traffic, just a guy and a bicycle. This too must have been a familiar sight to the child’s eyes, because she turned and looked straight at the rider, raised her arm and pointed, smile beaming on her youthful face. She locked eyes with the rider in wonder, all the while her small feet quickly stepping haphazardly across the street, lunch box flapping at her side. Once safely across and pointed towards the entrance of the building, she glanced up at her mom, still pointing, as if to ensure that her mom took note as well. “That’s right dear; a bicycle.”

Headwind Blues

Tonight while I struggled to surmount the slight incline up 26th near Crown Hill, one of my fellow Primal 1st Bank riders passed me going the other way. Clad in spandex, riding what must either be a carbon or lightweight aluminum bike, heading downhill with a massive tailwind, he looked utterly effortless in motion as he waved hello while speeding past. I on the other hand, riding my behemoth 1984 Cannondale touring monstrosity, wearing corduroy pants heavy gloves with full panniers dangling off the rear rack, labored into the headwind continuously buffeting me on my journey westward. I could barely hold a tempo enough to reach 14 mph let alone manage much of a wave or hello; in all honesty it was at times an effort to wipe the snot from my nose as pleasant as that sounds. Yet this is sometimes the lot in cycling. Sometimes you have the draft or the advantage of a full tailwind helping to propel you forward at superhuman speeds. Other times you get hit in the face with a cold front and it stops you dead in your tracks. Today’s wind probably wasn’t the worst I’ve ever encountered, but towards the end of a long week, after a long day and a fast run at lunch, it was not what I needed. As my mother in law is oft to say, “Sometimes you’re the bug, and sometimes you’re the windshield.” I felt a little flattened today…glad I get to ride eastward tomorrow morning.

I tried to capture the essence of how crappy today's ride home was but this flag just wouldn't cooperate. While its not flying totally at end (which I swear it was before I snapped the shutter), I think you get the idea.

Pondering Traffic...From the Bike Path

Yesterday Kate sent an email to see if I wanted to head down with her to the Cherry Creek Mall so the Apple Store dorks could take a look at her I-Pod. I didn’t hesitate, why not? I’d ride north from work up the Platte River Trail, meet Kate at REI and then we’d head down the Cherry Creek Trail to the mall. There we could park our bikes just outside the door, head inside and take care of business and then roll homeward. Heading home we’d reverse our trip back down to Confluence Park and hop on the bike route up 23rd to the route on 26th and comfortably ride the bike lanes into Lakewood on the way home. An entire 15-20 mile round trip journey almost entirely on paths or bike lanes.

The popular statistic of the urban bicycle movement notes that the majority of trips Americans make are within 3-5 miles of their home. The idea being that most of these trips could easily be handled by bicycle instead of automobile. Certainly many don’t have day-to-day trips which fit this boundary. I seldom had a trip under 3 miles when living in the foothills, everything but the post office was well outside that boundary. Even our net distance for this I-Pod trip surpassed this threshold. However, the leap frogs of destinations pretty much approximates it: 7-ish miles to work, about 2 miles up to REI, a couple miles to the mall etc. The longest sustained riding we did was the stretch from Cherry Creek back home: a bit over 10 miles I believe. Considering that higher concentrations of people live within cities or densely packed urban areas these average trip distances probably apply. Yet as a society we’ve steadily pushed away from focusing on inward urban mobility preferring to flee urban centers to well crafted suburbs where land is cheap and neighborhoods are tailored to provide the average middle-class American with access to a cul de sac, Wal Mart and Mini-Mall all within an easy drive. These subdivisions and suburban oases are often several miles (often 20 or more) from urban centers and dense business or commercial locations. As a result Americans cram onto freeways and sit in rush hour traffic for a significant portion of their daily commute. Additionally the piling of subdivision upon subdivision often occurs along broad boulevards spanning sometimes two or three lanes in each direction. So while in the suburbs serenity is supposed to come via proximity, it still is proximity measured by travel dependent upon the automobile.

As I sat waiting for Kate I caught a rare glimpse of this phenomenon in action as the waves of traffic queued up on Speer Blvd for entry onto I 25. I’ve never really considered the proximity of the bridge to the Confluence Park area: its right freaking there! I ride under it all the time but usually am looking at the river, other path travelers or more enjoyable sights, I can’t ever recall sitting and watching the traffic. Yet I found myself with time, and I couldn’t but help feel sorry for all of the flickering red brake lights as they filed their way onto the I 25 arterial to head either north or south to the suburbs beyond the city’s reach. I wondered how many were heading to far remote sites (Arvada, Brighton, Westminster, Castle Rock, Morrison), much like I did for 4 years; heading out from the city to the foothills up HWY 285, nearly 30 miles one way. As I pondered the building of the evening’s rush hour I’d notice the bikes that passed by me on the path: old mountain bikes, fixed gears, race bikes…dozens of different people out riding, some for recreation but most heading home with a backpack, pannier or messenger bag. As we rode up the Cherry Creek path we passed or were passed by dozens of people out commuting or riding their bikes. It actually surprised me how many people we saw, even on our return route west as we headed into ’the burbs.’

The investment in bike paths and bike lanes, coupled with an expansion of redoubled residential development within the Denver urban center has helped contribute to the growing number of people commuting by bicycle. I don’t know if it necessarily takes an oil crisis, global warming or economic catastrophe to help encourage people to ride. I suppose these events help assist in the belt tightening and alternative seeking of people looking to save a dime or a tree. Yet when it comes down to it I still think its just a simple question of quality of life. People like suburbs because they offer safety, convenience and comfort. Once people realize they can find these things in urban areas (and cities focus more on offering them) I think they too will gravitate to bicycling as a means of transport. People will ride because its fun, easy, convenient and safe. It ultimately doesn’t have to be more political or decisive than that. Perhaps the trick at this point is reaching out to the flickering lights in traffic and letting them know that they don’t really have to wait for that day to come, from where I was sitting at Confluence Park it pretty much already seems to be here.

No LSD For Me, I'm Straight...Straight Out Of My Mind That Is

Despite a wonderful home cooked meal of steak, potatoes and asparagus the night before, I woke Sunday starving. Not a good sign before the last all team ride of the month. I slowly ate a stack of delicious pancakes drank some coffee and could feel my energy levels start to return. After a quick clean and lube of my bike, change into my kit and multiple warm layers (it was a touch over 20), I hit the road. The team planned to meet at Golden Bike Shop for what was cryptically labeled in the weekly email as the 'Denver West Loop'. When I got to the shop I discovered that this was nothing more than our typical ride out north to Superior and back, I felt a bit deflated at this prospect as the route only takes a couple of hours, offers but a few rolling climbs and barely scratches 40 miles: not what my legs, sadly lacking in base miles at this point, needed.

Hollow threats of a timely departure to the contrary, we left late after about 15 min of standing around freezing our asses off while waiting for folks to show. Rolling out the pace was smooth and steady. The chill in the air gave way to casual banter and chatting as we wound our way up northward from Golden. Crossing the tracks west of Indiana two guys flatted out so we dropped our pace and stopped to wait while they changed tubes. The standing around provided an opportunity for some food but also rapidly cooled warmed muscles; starting out again was painful as we greeted the frosty air with cold cores for a second time. As we hit the stretch before Simms a sprint point contest developed. I positioned myself well moving up to the 5th or 6th wheel. Watching a break on the right side I quickly pushed forward hopping wheels after a short rise in the road and caught the wheel of powerhouse Lucas heading into the final couple hundred meters. I held the draft for a few seconds and shot around Lucas for the sprint; a well executed lead out and uncontested dash to the line.

At the half way point in Superior my legs felt fresh and energized and I wanted more…fortunately for me one of my fellow CAT4 turned 3, Grant, felt the same way. We decided to leave the group and continue rolling north to Boulder. Our loop wound us up Cherryvale Road down Baseline to 75th, up to Jay and back some random road to Valmont before winding into Boulder for some food. Neither one of us could really tell how fast the other wanted to ride, and in typical macho-bike racer fashion didn’t talk about this while actually riding, so we ended rolling a pace that both of us in hindsight thought to be a bit too fast. After our break for bagels and bananas, where food gave us newly found conversational skills, we agreed to edge back the tempo a bit while climbing up the hills and eventually ‘The Wall’ out of Superior. At this leisurely pace we talked about Grant’s Triathlon training, discussed the upcoming race season and generally shot the shit. Legs feeling the lactate acid building we cruised the final rollers before heading back to Arvada. The wind from the north gave us a bit of a push and helped us maintain a decent cadence despite both us feeling the day’s mileage, which at this point was rapidly building. We parted ways at 44th, where Grant took the right back to Golden and his car, and I went straight on McIntyre to 32nd and home.

Once home I enjoyed a warm bowl of homemade potato soup (crafted by Kate from the prior day’s leftovers) and a sandwich before jumping in the shower and then pleasantly falling asleep for a quick afternoon nap. Although the temp never got into the 40’s as promised, and the skies were partly clouding hiding the sun’s warmth for most of the day, it was nonetheless a good day to be out riding. While not quite the textbook ‘Long Slow Day’ preached by trainers and coaches alike, the 80 miles of riding at tempo felt good on the legs and helped energize me for the season to come. Next weekend is Team Time Trial practice which promises to be a lot of fun.