Adding to my repertoire

I think I spelled that correctly.

So, the fat bike I bought last winter converts into a mountain bike. I thought maybe I should try it out.

On Saturday, Stacy went with me to Minnesota River Bottoms so that we could try mountain biking and see what we are in for. Today, Dan and I drove to Cuyuga, where old mining land has been turned into a recreational area with some pretty comprehensive trails.

I'm glad Stacy and I went yesterday, otherwise I would have been totally freaked out today. As it was, I was still moderately freaked out.

Justifications for freaking: I'm used to a road bike and flat, smooth roads; mountain biking requires you to ride uphill and downhill around tight corners on loose rocks; I've not spent much time on this bike yet, and the wheels are way bigger than my other bike; you have to be very vigilant and not daydream. I don't need justifications, though. Let's be honest, I don't like terrain. When cross country skiing, I like going on the flat parts the most. I'm terrified when I'm not in control.

I learned some things about biking today, but basically I met my goal of just getting familiar with my bike in that type of scenario.

My minor bruises and I are going for a ride on the road bike tomorrow as our reward.

Becoming irrelevant, in a good way

Thanks to Rachel, I read a really interesting article about a hermit, who said this, when reflecting on his decades living in the woods:

"With no audience, no one to perform for, I was just there. There was no need to define myself; I became irrelevant. The moon was the minute hand, the seasons the hour hand."

I think maybe I sometimes feel sort of like that for a few minutes when doing a 5-day bike ride, and think I'd like to try to experience this more - on or off the bike.

(I messed up my hyperlink when editing this on the phone, and now can't add one. Here's the article: http://www.gq.com/news-politics/newsmakers/201409/the-last-true-hermit)

True Confessions

Here it is, people, the juicy truth: I like my car. I don't like paying for things like tire rotations and oil, since I'm able to deal with tires and oil for my bike all on my own. And I don't like using a car all the time. In fact, I like passing cars on my bike when riding home during rush hour. But I do like having the option of driving, like on a thunderstorming day when the CSA is being delivered to work and I'm going straight to the boatclub after work to row.

I have a basic, simple car. I'm thinking about ways to simplify my recreational biking (versus my commutes), and to lighten my load. During the TRAM, I saw a woman using a tennis ball container in her water bottle cage, instead of a bag under her seat or on a rack. I'm considering putting another cage on my bike and trying it.

Don't let me down, Bruce

I was thinking I haven't ridden much lately, as compared to last year, and feeling a little bad about it. I checked my biking log from last year. I'm actually almost exactly at the same mileage this year. I wonder why it feels different.

Maybe because my last real ride, 9 days ago, didn't go well, although it was a great route. That probably has made me feel out of shape. And maybe I can blame the delayed spring and late summer, too. I still am holding a grudge against last winter.

Maybe since I'm in a similar spot as last year, I can adjust my attitude a little bit, and enjoy some nice rides. Or, as my phone wants to say, via autocorrect, some Bruce rides.

That, of course, leads to having ELO on the brain.

Root, root, root for the home team

It's been a while since I've posted anything here. That's partly due to the busy mess that is life, and partly because I've been trying to think of how to say something that's been rattling around in my head since the TRAM.

You may recall, gentle reader, that I was crabby on Wednesday of the TRAM and through sheer determination, made myself be cheerful, resulting in my being told on Thursday that I was "the most joyful rider."

But Wednesday: Crabby? Moi? Former official President (and likely Chief Executive Officer, if we'd been a bit more organized) of the Crabby Club from roughly 1978 - 1984? Yes, me. C.r.a.b.b.y. Crabby.

I had a tough time riding. My back hurt, my foot/ankle hurt, and my seat hurt. I was riding with, and using, ibuprofen, Icy Hot, and Chamois Butt'r. They helped, but did not alleviate my issues. Once I got off the bike, I was mostly better. Until bedtime.

I was in my tent when this guy came to talk to Matt, sitting near my tent.

I shouldn't have let him bother me; he wasn't even talking to me. I was in a tent, though, which isn't exactly soundproof. He is a fast rider, he said multiple times. He's looking to join a fast team (presumably for riding not just during this charity event). He rides 7,000 miles per year, in Minnesota. He's a fast rider, he said again, many times. All of that made me roll my eyes, but what made me want to leave my tent and punch him was this, "No one should have struggled riding today."

It's a charity ride. A lot of old people, a lot of people who ride 1,000 miles per year, and riders wearing jerseys, reminding you that they have MS. And people who ride a fair amount who now mysteriously have a sore foot and a sudden need for chamois cream.

In the following weeks, I've been thinking about my reaction, as well as what a team sport means to me, even though we don't really do the TRAM as a team sport (although four of us pooled our gear and food).

Seven years ago, I took a learn to row class because I wanted to participate in a team sport. I wanted to get exercise in a way where I'd be accountable to someone for showing up, I'd have to work hard once I showed up, and I'd meet nice people who I'd want to be active with (I know, not technically the proper way to end that sentence). I met my friend Stacy on that first day, and she's the one who first suggested that I consider the MS150 ride. I've met a lot of great people in the boat and on my bike, and am reasonably fit.

I can't fault that annoying guy for wanting his own version of that.

But he might want to work on his messaging.