Evil RTD Bus

There are some days that I really just do not want to ride my bike home from work.  Today was such a day.  I rode my Jamis Supernova into work (and experienced a slew of smells including a dead skunk, burning rubber, cinnamon rolls, a slaughter house, and sweat) and ran a few miles at lunch.  The afternoon consisted largely of a coworker trying to dump his grunt work on me.  When the day finally concluded, I really did not want to ride home so I road my bike over to the RTD bus stop.  And then it happened – I saw that the bus had already passed and was a few minutes down the road.  Now I wanted to blame myself, but both my watch and cell phone confirmed that the bus was two minutes early.  That was all I needed; I said I was going to beat the bus home on my bike while still wearing my dress clothes (though I did have on bike shoes).  I put the hammer down and at the first light I had almost caught the bus – the light was really long and the bus had to make a few stops.  Unfortunately the bus made the light and I did not.  Waiting at the light, the desire to win just grew; there was no way I was going to let that bus defeat me.  I took off the second the light changed and never looked back.  When I turned on to my street, I looked at the coming bus and threw out some obscenities regarding meeting a schedule and how pathetic it was getting beat by my cyclocross bike.  Score another win for Dan.  Now I just need to deal with the pit stains on my undershirt…

Pit Stains After Bike Commute Home

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When I got home and stripped down I was pleased to see that my skin was still in one piece, particularly since I could see the crash marks directly on an old scar (from the first time I use clipless pedals on a mountain bike and subsequently spent three hours getting gravel picked out of my arm at the hospital; you know it happened you too).

Icing My Elbow with Dale's Pale Ale

Anyways, after years of athletic injuries I know the proper recovery method involves putting something very cold on the wound; I improvised with a can of Dale’s Pale Ale.

A Better Use of Dale's Pale Ale

After about 8.7 seconds, I got bored and decided on a better use of my cold object.  Sucks to be my elbow.

The Remnants of My Cooling Device

Now I just need to find someone else to blame for my crash on an empty, icy road while going 25 km/hour; suggestions?

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I have been fairly lazy, at least with my lunchtime workouts and bike commuting.  I probably averaged less than one ride to work a week.  I ran at lunch once.  I have been only mildly active on the weekends.  I put on 5 lbs in the month.  Bad news.  Seriously bad news.  I will have to do something to get in shape for speed skating season.

So what all did I do?  I went fly fishing with the snow falling and the wind biting at my face.  It was like steelhead fishing back in Wisconsin and Michigan, except I only caught one 8 inch rainbow instead of a 15 lbs silver bullet steelhead.

I only took my Trek Fuel EX 8 mountain bike out once.  Katie and I went out to Marshall Mesa for an easy ride.  Except we were battling 20 mile winds.  Which was awesome…  I will write more about that tomorrow.

I rode in three cyclocross races.  Technically only one of them was in October, but that is acceptable as I collectively performed miserably at all of them.  The first, at the Louisville Rec center as part of the Boulder Cyclocross series, I was actually doing fairly well (probably somewhere in the top 15-20) before I crashed on the downhill immediately following the sandpit.  I went down hard on the turn and bent my derailleur hanger, of course I didn’t notice until my chain sucked behind my cassette and refused to be freed.  Alas.  The next race was the Valmont Bike Park Fest race where I continued my trend of falling.  Not only did I fall, but I fell three times.  And by falling I do not mean poor mounts, though I had plenty of those as well.  I went down twice in the loose dirt after the run-up and then once again when some guy bumped me into the tape.   I think I somehow managed to be the last person not to be lapped.  Finally I competed in the Boulder Cup.  I did not manage to avoid getting lapped; apparently I have a lot to learn about cyclocross, like that it helps to train…  At least my Jamis Supernova is performing well.

In pre-winter news, we had three different ski houses fall through.  If you know of anyone who needs two more (and a bulldog), let us know!

Oh, and it snowed 23 inches in two days; forty-eight later it was all but melted.  We’ll see what November brings.

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Road Bike: 2001 Lemond Buenos Aires Triple

2001 Lemond Buenos Aires Road Bike

Ah, steel.  I used to get a lot of fun looks when I told people that I had a steel bike; these days more and more are saying they wish they had one.  The ride, especially when coupled with the carbon fork, is extremely compliant.  The bike was definitely designed for a more casual rider who wanted an excellent mix of performance and comfort.  My number one complaint is that when I do a hard acceleration I frequently pull the rear wheel free of the horizontal dropouts.  Unsurprisingly the handling is a bit slow and the bike cannot climb as well as present day replacements (though I am sure most of that is me, the bikes I have demoed show that the bike is playing a part).  All of which is fine – I don’t race.  Overall the bike has been really good to me (I put a complete new Shimano 105 groupset on the bike last year – the cable adjuster on the front tube is helpful given the touchy new 10 speed rear derailleur ) and a wonderful introduction to cycling.  The more relaxed position and smooth ride surely played a major part in my present obsession with cycling.  While I cannot promise to buy another steel bike, I will certainly give a custom steel frame strong consideration.

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My first “real” bike in years; my father was on a huge bike kick at the time and was more excited about his new bike and the prospect of me getting a road bike. Lance was winning the tour, Trek was getting awesome coverage in Wisconsin, and I was not overly sold on bicycles. My dad bought me the bike anyways. It was one of the best things to ever happen to me.

Now an avid rider, I cannot thank my father enough for giving me the push into cycling. I have taken the bike everywhere I have lived and have many memories from each state. While some are better than others, I have really enjoyed my bike.  I have ridden all over the Madison area – the western hills are particularly enjoyable. The bike traveled with me to Lehigh University in Pennsylvania where I enjoyed countless scenic rides in farm county. When I did an internship in Colorado Springs I learned that Pennsylvania does not really have mountains and that I am not a very good climber. My first job out of school took me to Salem, OR with its challenging rolling hills, coastal range mountains, and occasional vineyards. While I rode in college, it was not until I graduated and moved to Salem that I started riding consistently. Occasionally I would even venture up to Portland and see lots of other cyclists.

I was transferred for work to Memphis, TN where I discovered that whereas some parts of the country do not have many cyclists this part was downright hostile to them; guys in pickups threw half empty beer cans at me on almost every ride. Continuing the trend of fear, I had two individuals, on separate occasions, follow me for a distance until a large open area appeared (I thought an unpleasant altercation was about to occur) but said they were inspired to see someone riding (again, no one rides in Memphis). My favorite quote from my time in the south was when I asked the HR manager if there was shower so I could ride my 17 mile commute into work. His response: “There’s a hose out back”.

I was again transferred, this time to Albert Lea, MN headed into winter. Similar to Memphis, I never saw another rider. Unlike the heat of Memphis, I froze my butt off on almost every ride. My rides always concluded with a cup of tea at the Starbucks where the high school aged baristas all thought I was on crack; perhaps if they took up cycling it would decrease the horrendously high teenage pregnancy rates in the town. Or not.

Finally I quit that job and moved to Boulder, a town that truly loves cyclists. The only time I have not seen anyone else on the road was the day I accidentally commuted in with the temperature at negative 15 F (I missed the negative sign on the temperature when I checked in the morning; I know, I am an idiot). I still am not much of a climber, but I put in plenty of rides in a place where my Buenos Aires and I are fully accepted.

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Apparently I am having trouble with people on boards these days.

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