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

pasadena to car door

http://www.gmap-pedometer.com/?r=2901723

this ride was gonna be bad ass. it was almost a month to the day since i got hit and run by the old lady in the cadillac. i’d gotten my $350 dollars from the insurance people and written her a letter to tell her i didn’t hate her but an apology would be nice. i never got one.

this ride was gonna be great! i had it all planned out. i was gonna ride up to colorado blvd and follow it into pasadena and then take los robles etc down to long beach and have lunch and then come back up the beach to finish it out.

the awesome part of the ride is that after you hit mile 17 right at colorado and los robles it’s essentially down hill until you hit the beach. which is like??? i don’t know. i never made it.

i rode over the old pasadena bridge and it was amazing. views for days of all sorts of different areas of la la land. then i stopped and got a coffee right on the corner of los robles. 

i know they say not to ride with headphones in but i do. i always do. unless i’m riding with someone else which almost never happens. the long and dull here is that i was coffeed up and listening to nada surf (sort of ironically the same song i was listening to when i got hit a month earlier but i didn’t think of that until afterwards.) and basically having the best time i could remember having in a while. i actually remember thinking “man, this is just about the best day i’ve had in a while.”

that was mile 20. that was right about the time i felt the hard thump on the back of my left arm that forced me to swerve hard to the right. i righted myself and looked up just in time to see the old pickup truck turn around the corner.

the next thing i knew i was staring at the sky and it was not all that much fun to breathe. i went ahead and tried anyway. it hurt less after the first few sucking wheezes and i picked myself up.

the first thing i noticed was that my water bottle was in the middle of the street about two feet away from where i was standing. i picked it up and took a drink.

then i saw my head light. so i picked that up as well.

then i saw my computer. then a question formed in my head without me actually thinking it and it went something like “why is my computer in the street and not on my bike?”

then i heard yelling and i looked over to the small asian man (sorry, i don’t know if he was chinese, japanese, korean etc) on the side of the road with his car door open. he was screaming at the top of his lungs and pointing at me and then pointing to his car.

my left arm started to hurt and i remembered the pickup truck. i checked the back of my arm and there were two bloody marks about 3 inches apart. a car horn honked and i looked up. i was still standing in the middle of the road.

the asian man was still yelling and as i got to the side of the road where he was parked i saw my bike on the ground. my first thought was that sara (my fiance) was gonna kill me since she just bought me the bike to replace the last one that got smashed.

i wasn’t sure what was going on but for some reason i started apologizing to the yelling asian man. did i mention he was not yelling in english? it made everything more confusing. i told him i was sorry about 30 times and he finally stopped yelling. he got out his phone and i thought “crap, he’s calling an ambulance and i don’t have insurance. sara is really gonna kill me.”

while he yelled into the phone i checked over my bike and oddly, everything seemed in order except there being a slight bend in the left side of the handlebars and the chain was off. i put the chain on and as i did the man grabbed me and pulled me around the side of his car where the door was still standing open. he pointed to a big dent right on the edge of the door. it was where the outside of the door becomes the inside of the door and makes that perfect little line with the rear door when it is closed.

“you did that!” he said. he hung up the phone and i said “i don’t need an ambulance.” as the words fell from my lips two things happened. a door opened to a restaurant that had a “closed” sign in the window right next to where we were standing and about 20 more asian people (men and women, young and old) came out. as this took place i started to feel like i needed an ambulance, mostly in the right foot part of my body.

at this point everyone started yelling and one young man came over to me and started repeating “you okay. you go now.” over and over. at first i thought he was asking and my response was “i don’t know. i’m sorry i don’t know.” and then he started shaking his head. ” you go now. you okay.”

i was standing in the middle of 20 screaming asians. i don’t know why but i absentmindedly took my helmet off and looked at it to see if it had any marks on it. it didn’t. it made me feel better. my foot was throbbing. the man whose door i apparently hit looked over at me and gave me a thumbs up so i gave one back. this prompted the young asian man to pat me on the back and say “okay go.” so i did.

18 miles and i was home. east cesar chavez was interesting. it looked like chicago with rolling hills only dirtier and with no white people. the rest of the ride was pretty uninteresting. the pain in my foot kept me from enjoying it much.

i got home and sara was there…i will say this, wrecking your bike 2 times in one month even when neither is your fault is not a good way to convince your significant other that bicycle riding is something you are going to continue doing.

shoe off - three broken toes (my own personal guess as i never saw a doctor). my pinky toe was shoved under the toe next to it. 

shirt off - giant bruise in about the kidney area. my back pack was on and i think i landed on my allen wrench set.

scrapes on both elbows.

scrapes on right hip.

almost puncture wounds on the back of my elbow (from the sideview mirror?)

lesson learned? if you get hit by the sideview mirror of a passing vehicle and it doesn’t knock you over, look out for people opening car doors.

something to keep in mind when/if this happens to you - in california, a person opening a car door is always responsible for checking to see if there is oncoming traffic. always. if their door gets taken off by a truck because they didn’t check it’s their fault. if they break the toes of a passing cyclist (even if that cyclist is maybe closer than they should be due to unforeseen circumstances) it is their fault. always. if they knock over an old lady who is walking by it is their fault. always.

chirp,

hillary