back up in the mutha mutha saddle

considering it’s basically all i ever think about it’s been quite a long time since i rode my bike. until today!

quick stats from last ride i did  which was just my usual loop to the beach and back went like this -

dst = 23 miles

avg = 20.0 mph

time = 1:08:08 

max = 31.8 = mph

so it’s been over a week since i got to ride and boy-oh was i not looking forward to it. i went on a honeymoon, which if you’ve never done i highly suggest you do it cuz you get to relax and if you’re like me well then you know that sounds impossible but also like basically the only thing you really want to do. i relaxed so hard i pulled a muscle in my shoulder. amazing!

anyway, today’s ride was just a quick romp to the beach and back via the bologna creek path. i love this path even though it’s normally crowded with walkers ignoring the blatant “bikes only” signs all over the place and then the bikers that are on it are, like most bikers, total fucking tards with their kids who happen to have just fallen off their bike and so stupid dad is literally in the middle of both lanes with the first aid kit out (cuz you should always carry a first aid kit if you’re??? really a first aid kit open in the middle of the bike path?) and his little girl, cute as a button, is screaming her brains out over a tiny little scrape that wouldn’t have happened had daddy not decided to take her and her big bro out on a 20 mile ride. 

plus it was windy as fuck. and then you have to contend with the guys who want you to think they are super serious cuz look at how decked out i am in all my gear on my 5 g bike but somehow i don’t know how to get passed or stay in my lane or swerve erratically just because someone is coming from the other direction.

jeez i love people.

so the point is i got up late and didn’t feel like getting a move on. so i lounged around and drank coffee slowly and then my wife sara said she was gonna go shopping and…i got out and on and made my way down venice to dubgenquese or whatever the name of that street is in culver city where the bike path pops up and hit the pedal to the metal only to be smacked long and hard by a straight on head wind that basically debilitated me and made me want to kill myself. 

i knew i wasn’t gonna go that far so i just plowed on. i tried to get as low as possibleto stay out of the wind and it helped. not much, but it helped.

there are a few blind type curves heading west where i always seem to meet the most wonderful people jogging (on the path clearly marked “bikes only”) and even though they are on their right side and i am on my right side they seem to freak out cuz i’m moving faster than them and they kinda do a jitter-side-step thing that makes me have to break really hard and suddenly cuz “what the fuck are you doing?” and then i have to say “bikes only” in a very nice voice with a big smile since i’m so close and pissed that they made me slow down.

man oh man do i love people.

i made it to the beach/bridge which is where most of the people on the bike path go to be seen biking like when writers go to starbucks to write so the whole world knows they are writing. you have to make it real somehow right? other people seeing you definitely makes it real. even if they are super self absorbed and barely even notice you sitting there with your brand new de rosa.

or maybe some people meet up their with their friends as a starting point. either way it’s always packed with people doing really dangerous shit like riding in circles in the middle of everyone else trying to just get across. 

i flipped a u and thanked my luck stars to be riding with the wind. i picked up the pace and and pedaled hard for as long as i could. i love the feeling of passing people regardless of whether or not they are trying to go fast. the tail wind really boosted me. i don’t know how fast the wind was blowing but i maxed out at 35.4 mph on flat and i wasn’t even trying very hard i was just trying to keep my pace.

off the trail and back on venice toward home there was a guy on a fixie (surprise surprise it was a chromed out bianchi pista with a aerospoke front and a deep v something on the back) that was just terrible. no brakes at all meant he was just jumping around at every intersection. i wasn’t in a hurry so i just stayed behind him from national all the way to fairfax where he finally turned. he must have looked back about 700 times. and not short, smart little glances. like long slow turn the head and shoulders and make yourself swerve out of the bike lane glances. i couldn’t tell if he was looking at me or trying to find a gap in the cars to make his turn but he never did turn until fairfax and then he didn’t look for the lane change he just put his hand out and went for it. the car he cut off honked and he looked back and jumped into the other lane while still looking back only to turn around just in time to see the car stopped in front of him which, i must say he deftly avoided with a very quick and accurate skid, hop, turn. scary as fuck to watch from my safe perch in the bike lane. when we reached the light he actually would have had plenty of time to get across safely. oh well.

i mashed it all out and made it home to see these stats -

dst = 22.8 miles

avg = 16.7 mph

time = 1:23:00

feeling good, looking good. glad to get out there again. off for a few days now and i plan on riding ‘til i puke. who’s with me?

chirp,

hillary 

who rides every day

the guilt is overwhelming and i have no one to account to besides myself. not only did i not get up this morning and ride to the beach, but roy emailed and said he was a no go for an afternoon ride. thus giving me ample excuse to bow out of yet another fine afternoon of pedaling.

does anyone ride everyday? really? i mean, i’ve done it for weeks at a time where i’ve had occasion to find myself commuting to work 6 days a week and doing “for fun” rides on my day off. but there’s real life, like laundry and cats and cleaning to do. 

if only it was rainy. then i could feel less…

maybe i will go for an evening ride. but probably not.

i leave tomorrow for chicago/northern indiana and my soon to be wife and our wedding on saturday. i wish i could take my bike. does that sound lame?

i’m getting married in a few days, and all my friends and family will be in town for the days surrounding the event and what i’d really like to do is head out on my bike for a few hours and ride the rolling hills the area has to offer.

i know her dad has a bike in the garage. maybe i’ll see about snagging that sucker and just doing a few laps around the hood…

maybe if i’m not a puss i’ll get up for tomorrow morning’s possibilities.

chirp,

hillary

ride report (aka i'm so fast)

got up on time today. still didn’t get out the door until 5:30am. i don’t know that it will make more of a difference if i get out between 5 - 5:15 like i want to but…i had to stop one time and that was at la cienega and venice, one of my usual pits. 

after not riding yesterday i came out of the gate feeling good. legs made of brute force steel. i didn’t look at the computer the entire way because the first stretch coming down 3rd st i was sure i was doing 50 mph. so i figured i’d at least be in the high 40’s for my average and just quit worrying. 

i got to santa monica and creamed the first hill. there was a slight headwind but i was still a rocket ship. 

i didn’t think about anything except keeping up the burning sensation in my legs. in my head, if my legs were burning that meant i was really moving. so i just pedaled at a nice steady pain level.

the lights were in my favor and i don’t think i hit my brakes until i got all the way to lincoln and then it was just a tap and the light flashed green and i smashed through.

ocean to main was over and done with so fast it felt like nothing more than a very brief deja vu. by this point i was past the half way point without stopping pedaling one single time. 12 miles or more and i was still feeling good. oh i’m so fast!

up veince the wind seemed to be coming from the south (aka my right) but it didn’t affect how unbelievably fast i was going. the #33 bus that’s always out and running had a female driver today that did a “no look/no signal pull out” at a green light that had me swerving and locking up my brakes. i quickly readjusted, got back on top of my horendous speed, spit on her window, ducked the sideview mirror and left her in my ever increasing dust.

i hit the “peak” at helms and proceeded to throw it into big boy gear and bludgeon the long shallow decent to la cienega. oh my i’m fast. probably pushing 75 mph strategically crouched in the drops to be as little resistance to the wind as possible.

at la cienega i caught my breath and pounded some water. there was a gap in the traffic before the light actually changed and since i was feeling so powerful i decided to go ahead and take it instead of using it as a rest period.

made it to cochran, swung left hard and galloped up the hill. every light was green which has never happened before thus making it easier to maintain my record shattering speed. even the light at wilshire was green! i put her back into big boy and put the hammer down for the last two block run. i pedaled so hard and fast my feet went numb! dear sweet i was going fast! right?

distance = 22.9 (uhm?)

total miles = 1291 miles

max speed = 30.9 mph (that has to be wrong.)

total time = 1:09:33 (huh? no way, more like 30 minutes.)

average speed = 19.7 mph (okay, who messed with my computer?)

so in the end i felt good, and did slightly better than my last ride but i guess i’m not as crushingly fast as i thought i was. oh well. the only thing that confuses me is the extra .2 miles in today’s distance. it wouldn’t really affect my average much or time but i’m guessing i’d be right at 1:09 or at the top end of 1:08 and probably 19.8 average.

the good news is that everyone bailed on tomorrow’s ride so i’m doing yet another solo ride to long beach. only this time i’m going to try to find the san gabriel river trail and do a nice solid 100 miles…even though i told sara i wouldn’t…i’m a liar.

chirp,

hillary 

there's a monster at the end of this ride

first the numbers - 

distance = 22.7 (two days in a row? wow this $7 ebay computer is really worth it!)

total miles = 1268 (should i mention that the computer is as new to me as the bike (both replaced when the old bike got stolen on march 17th) thus it doesn’t reflect my actual mileage for the year?)

max = 30.0 mph

average = 19.3 mph

total time = 1:10:39

then the excuses - 

set my alarm and promptly fell asleep on the couch watching the extras from “there will be blood”. which, bye the bye, are not even remotely interesting except for the old movie about how they used to drill for oil. 

i don’t know if my routine of getting horizontal with just the dim glow of the television on my face and a few cans of pbr is the best pre-ride regime…this is getting to long.

excuse # 1 - i didn’t get up on time.

excuse # 2 - i am sore from the previous two days of pushing myself.

excuse # 3 - headwind on the way there. 

excuse # 4 - i hit tons of stop lights.

excuse # 5 - there was a monster on my ride! 

that’s right you heard me, it was a giant, ugly monster that sucks your speed by striking fear into every fiber of your body and muscle tissue so that instead of energy and stamina all you’re left with is quaking sludgy fear!

i first caught a glimpse of him on santa monica as i was coming down the hill at beverly glenn. he was about half way up the hill in front of me headed in the same direction. he was really moving. his evil, sleek form covered in bright white spandex accented by jet black streaks. i was coming down the hill at a pretty good pace but i didn’t seem to be getting closer. i stupidly thought this was just an illusion due to the distance and and the fact that both of us were moving. being that i was still too far away to see his true form i (again stupidly) decided to try to catch him.

what? oh yes. i made the conscious decision to not only catch him, but to pass him. notice i don’t use the word “try”. i was certain i would catch and pass and leave this foul vermin far behind. 

everything was going according to plan. i made the light at beverly glenn and started pedaling hard up the hill. i got to the top and shifted to a bigger cog and really put the hammer down. i could feel it burn. i could feel the speed. i could see me getting closer just smashing my feet into the pedals, ripping through time and space itself!

and there he was ahead of me, pedaling effortlessly. even from this distance of 100 yards or more i could see the chiseled lines in his calves protruding from the bottoms of his spandex. i felt a quiver somewhere deep inside and shoved with all my might but i couldn’t quite get it down. even worse than the calves (which appeared to be magically made of some type of fluid, moving wood), i could actually make out the definition in the back of his thighs through his spandex. holy christ he’s about to hulk out and he’s not even trying!

as i choked on my ever growing fear i pedaled on. the closer i got the less energy i had and the harder i had to pedal and the more energy i used thus making the cycle of getting closer…there is an infinite number of infinities between any two points. every time you make it to the halfway point there is yet another halfway point you must cross before getting to yet another halfway point and so on until…i was never going to catch him.

his form was perfect, cautiously crouched. i was still 50 yards back and even though i was gaining on him he was still pedaling at such a leisurely pace that i knew if he wanted he could drop down and destroy everything i was and ever would be in one stroke. i could see his cassette but not his front rings which made it impossible for me to accurately gauge what gear he was in at the moment.

25 yards now. still closing but all the infinities were adding up and piling on top of me and my fear and i’m certain that by now he could hear me. if not my bike (reasonably quiet for a 20 year old bike but with no traffic and just a slight headwind…) then definitely me and my labored breathing. how embarrassing. less than a quarter of the way into my ride and i’m basically choking on bile and stomach acid already. and worse he’s using it against me! poisoning my thoughts with worries about pride and other people’s opinions. he’s too strong!

but i’m too close. i have too much momentum. i’m close enough now that i can hear that his bike makes absolutely zero noise with the exception of a very brief click when he switches gears. shit! he didn’t even move his hands. he’s got integrated shifters (no fumbling for the downtube like me) and he’s used them to his full advantage and he’s pulling away! i’m not sure how but i stand up and use my last ounce of self respect to push me forward when every single molecule of my being tells me to turn and run. run! get away! before he destroys you! before he powers up and with one mighty rotation of the crank arm he blows out your tiny little flickering ember of life! turn and run and live to see another day! there is nothing to be embarrassed of for saving your own life in the face of such a giant, hideous, purely evil…

red light!

oh shit, this is where it happens. this is where it all comes to an end. there’s no way to avoid it. there’s no getting away now. it’s all over. it’s time to know true fear. it’s time to meet your maker. it’s time to look into the eyes of the most horrible, soulless, screaming beast of an…old man?

holy shit! he’s tiny. no more than 130 pounds. bits of grey hair sticking out wildly from under his giro helmet. bright and light blue eyes and enough facial hair to easily say “i’m retired.”

i put my foot down just as he unclips. i’m easily 8 inches taller than him. he looks over. a second passes.

i say “you’re really moving. i wouldn’t have caught you if it wasn’t for this light.”

his response “oh i’m not too shabby for an old man. you commuting?”

me “no i wish i had an excuse to be so slow. i guess you could say i’m training to be faster though.”

him “where you headed?”

me “just down to the beach and then taking venice back up this way.” 

the light turned green. we both took off. i think he took it easy on me cuz i kept up with him from the 405 until he hooked left at bundy drive. his cervelo (looked like a new rs) whisked away rolling quietly on its easton ec 70’s.

i got down main and hit venice and felt pretty good. i blasted two doods that were fully kitted out on cannys and then another lady on a trek 1.5.

as i rolled up to abbot kinney i saw him, the old man, across the median headed west to my east.

i whistled as loud as i could and waived. he didn’t even raise his head. 

chirp,

hillary