Ride Lugged

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By the light of the day the pimp’s yellow ochre suit is plain beige. The rotting wooden trailer out front is the same emerald green as the swing that sat under the willow tree for years after the willow had blown down in a windstorm, 15 feet from the porch where I slept, dead to the sound of the willow tree’s instant death. Now, 10 years later, a small willow grows from the base of the old tree’s trunk. The porch swing became art, the emerald green lending is patina to pieces about Abraham Lincoln and satellite radio. Memories are traded for cash and endorsed checks.

The porch furniture caught in the amber are invisible behind the dirty off white curtain, the illusion reserved for night rides only. The snake smell is just musty now, like a mouse dead in some remote corner of the house, reduced to powder and bones. There are no competitors out today, just the wind, heavy and high, pounding through every turn, making even the steepest downhills into high RPM chores. The splinter in my foot throbs on difficult climbs. The wrong foot placement could lead to a limp leg, as the pain shoots to the kneecap and saps it of structural strength. The lapis lazuli cascade has 3 kids playing in it, 2 teenage moms watch, bored. Not 6 years ago they were playing in that same stream. Now they just it watch it go by, the sparkling water holds no more interest than the latest congressional race, or the biker passing by, observing their life for 3 seconds at 27 mph.

I’m building miles slowly. Today I rode to school, and back, 6 miles total, and then my short local loop, 8 miles, then to the Giant, 3.5 miles, and then I’m heading back to school, 6 miles again, riding home in the dark at 11 or so. I’m eating a spoonful of ice cream a day, and loads of salad and grainy bits. I’m drinking lots of room temperature water, and extra fiber English muffins. My sweat has cooled to a dry powder on my forehead.

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A tale of two one point fives:

I have an idea, its not mine and I don’t remember who said it, but Sean’s recent comment brought it to mind again, and I’ll put the two thoughts together to make one newish thought.

I was always told to hold my handlebars loosely, like they were 1.5 times bigger than they actually are. This way, the bike and rider could react to bumps, and small directional changes, and still sort of auto–pilot its way through stuff. In other words, a loose grip actually meant more control, less wasted energy, and a more ‘ready for anything’ stance. I took this bit of wisdom and applied it. I loosesed up and found more control, less fatigue and more power for my legs, that otherwise would have gone to my hands and forearms. I could ride rigid and not be beat up. I could ride skinny tires off road. I could descend really nasty rocky stuff with crappy brakes and be ok. I ditched my fat oury grips and got big cheeze grips. They were smaller and harder, making it easier and more nessesary to loosen my grip. On my road bikes I switched from cork to cotton. Same deal. I can ride for dozens of miles and not experience numbness or a sketchy front end, because of how I hold my bars.

Instead of increasing headset diameter on road bikes (and don’t think its not coming to mtn bikes, or comfort bikes) why dont we re-teach this old chunk of wisdom. Let’s trade 1.5 inch headsets for theoretical 1.5x larger diameter handlebars. We could start by getting rid of all that gel tape nah nah, and foam pad hooo hoo and get people riding cinelli tape, or medium density stella or (gasp) cloth.

This would also expose undersized bikes, and poor riding positions. Lots of gel and saddle cut-outs do wonders for hiding bad bike fit. Its a win win situation. Really.