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| Finishing 327 miles in 25 hours on the Ohio To Erie Trail |
Tuesday, October 30, 2018
12K
12,000 miles. 12K miles. 12 big ones. 62,496,000 feet. That's how many miles I now have recorded on strava for riding my Fargo. There'll be a few extra hundred miles or so of non-recorded riding too. Overall that feels like a pretty good accomplishment. Great bike. Great fun. Still feels like there is a lot left to this relationship for both of us. Go Far. Fargo.
Friday, October 26, 2018
Every Single Time
It gets me EVERY. SINGLE. TIME! You would think I would be accustomed to riding in the wind by now ... some 10+ years into my "serious" cycling career, and more than 35 years as a regular rider.
Yesterday I went out on a moderate 3 to 4 hour ride. I had to go to the Trek Store in Westerville to pick up some new XT pedals I had ordered. Figured I would ride over -- you know, combine the workout with the errand. I diligently checked the forecast before I left and saw there was a 7mph wind coming from the ESE. The direction was a little unusual for us, and 7mph is no biggie.
I start riding West towards Cbus and I am flying. I feel like a million bucks. I am sure I am pro-cycling material, just waiting to be discovered. A little voice in the back of my head was shouting out, "Hey, its just the tailwind, stupid! You're not really this fast". I was consistently hitting 18mph heading uphill and 22mph heading down. All on my Fargo, a drop bar 29er mountain bike with 2.2 inch tires. JRA -- nothing really serious. No hard tempo effort. Just enjoying the brisk fall day. And despite that voice of reason in my head, I just couldn't manage to shake the feeling that I am really good at this cycling thing.
Then, of course, I headed back home. The return trip into the wind. I had hoped that the wind would shift back to its usual west direction. It didn't. I had hoped that the wind would die down with the setting sun. It didn't. There I was with my heart rate sailing into the stratosphere and my average speed tumbling off a cliff, trying desperately to push a bike-sized hole into the headwind. It was tough. Character building tough. No more easy-peasy 20mph. Tough slog at 15mph.
You'd think that I would have figured out this wind thing by now. I guess not. Maybe I need more practice.
Yesterday I went out on a moderate 3 to 4 hour ride. I had to go to the Trek Store in Westerville to pick up some new XT pedals I had ordered. Figured I would ride over -- you know, combine the workout with the errand. I diligently checked the forecast before I left and saw there was a 7mph wind coming from the ESE. The direction was a little unusual for us, and 7mph is no biggie.
I start riding West towards Cbus and I am flying. I feel like a million bucks. I am sure I am pro-cycling material, just waiting to be discovered. A little voice in the back of my head was shouting out, "Hey, its just the tailwind, stupid! You're not really this fast". I was consistently hitting 18mph heading uphill and 22mph heading down. All on my Fargo, a drop bar 29er mountain bike with 2.2 inch tires. JRA -- nothing really serious. No hard tempo effort. Just enjoying the brisk fall day. And despite that voice of reason in my head, I just couldn't manage to shake the feeling that I am really good at this cycling thing.
Then, of course, I headed back home. The return trip into the wind. I had hoped that the wind would shift back to its usual west direction. It didn't. I had hoped that the wind would die down with the setting sun. It didn't. There I was with my heart rate sailing into the stratosphere and my average speed tumbling off a cliff, trying desperately to push a bike-sized hole into the headwind. It was tough. Character building tough. No more easy-peasy 20mph. Tough slog at 15mph.
You'd think that I would have figured out this wind thing by now. I guess not. Maybe I need more practice.
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