I haven't blogged at all this week, simply because I have been too bored and, well, just not bothered. There has been a few things going around in my head to write about, but I'll get to them eventually.
I hate it...not riding, its like I've hit a brick wall and there is no center to my universe, there is no ying to my yang...
Insurance has taken a little longer to get through, but got a phone call from them today so hopefully not too much longer.
My two daughters had the opportunity to have their first road race on Saturday in the Juniors, but it was painful watching the adults take off from the starting line.
I had a friend come to my rescue by lending me a pair of shoes and helmet, wow, what a relief. Ok, the shoes are one size too big and the helmet one size too small, but they do, and for someone like me who has been chomping at the bit for a week and a half, they have been a God send.
Yesterday saw my first ride since my tumble, a nice steady 67 km ride out along the coast line and then back home via a slightly longer route. Ahh, the breeze in my, well hair so to speak, and a sense of freedom that I had been yearning for for the past week. It was good to be among friends once again, pedaling and chatting, and then of course the coffee.
Coffee is a given and goes hand in hand with cycling. I don't know why, it just is. As a truck driver I lived on the stuff, maybe too much, is there such a thing? But around the table at the cafe, we can relax, catch up on some goss, reminisce over the highlights of the morning as well as past rides. The ride always gets a run down, a bit like a debriefing.
I think that it the thing about cycling, the social side of it. Yes I want to get racing but I think I will always have to find the time to just chill out in the saddle with friends. I've had a turn at quite a few sports and pastimes and I have to say that there is none so social as cycling. Yes, of course you will always get your dicks, but that is life. They're not dicks because of their cycling, they are just dicks.
But the camaraderie is great, we have from time to time been joined by someone we didn't know out along the road somewhere. I've even had the pleasure of coming across some and being that one who joined the group. Its just par for the course...
Getting back to my little girls' first race. It was great to see them. There were only three juniors there for the days run, but hopefully that will change the week after Easter. Lena has been riding for a while. She has done track for a couple for seasons now. She used to join us for the Saturday shop rides and Sunday Club rides until the day she came off breaking her arm. This put her off, for a while sadly.
This is Lilly's first year, first year at track and, well its only been a couple of rides on the roadie.
But it was a sheer delight watching little Lilly line up as first off. I had to laugh, one of the parents that were following in a car told me that 6 kms in all she could see was this huge smile.
It was a hot day and I was a little apprehensive at how she would go. It was only a 7 k course for starters but, her being out on her own, with no dad or big sister beside her. She had a car in front of her, so that was a good thing, and they kept a close eye on her.
Lena was off next after 4 minutes. She had never ridden on her own as well. Track is different, you go round the velodrome with mum and dad there watching you. The other boy that was there started off 4 minutes after Lena.
Lena came in first with Lilly second. I was so proud of them. Not because of the finishing line up, but that they finished it...and loved it. I saw Lilly coming down the straight toward the finish line, she realised where she was, the legs started to spin faster and the smile got bigger. Lena finishing about 500 meters in front of her was happy as well, but a little knackered after the heat, and lack of riding fitness.
Today we headed out early this morning for a light ride. I want to get them used to riding on the road, and will gradually increase distances as we progress. Usually you have to drag them out of bed, but they were awake and up as I walked into their respective rooms.
We just headed out for an hour, but it was good and they were both adapting to riding on the road really well. They listened, paid attention, and did I say they listened...lol.
After dropping them back home I escorted them to the front door quickly so I could get going myself. Catching up with a couple of friends down at the local Crit track we did a few laps, and then headed for coffee huhhummm...I did say it come hand in hand. After that I took off in a different direct to head out some of the old roads I often visit.
Coming home it was a nifty southerly headwind, I called in to see my mate at the bike shop and eventually made it home. Yes, all the stops upset my averages but I didn't care as I was back on the bike.
Monday, 21 March 2016
Sunday, 13 March 2016
It All Began Today
Well, finally the ability to get out and about more readily. Today was the beginning of the re-establishment of my cycling prowess.
First off contacting my insurance company and they were happy to comply to my needs. I decided to go through my home contents, 1. because the excess was cheaper and 2. because the excess was cheaper.
I do have my bike insured but as it didn't suffer too much damage I didn't seethe need to go through them. Also my contents covers my clothing, helmet, shoes and Garmin, so why not I say.
We pay insurance for this very thing. I have a good bike, but if it was to be a right off I can't at present afford to replace it. Some people think that insurances are a waste of money. I can see their point and they probably are...until you need them.
Living through floods here in Bundaberg I have heard all the, "I can't afford insurance" excuses. But don't tell you can't afford insurance whilst your sucking down a cigarette...ok rant over.
Insurance to me is a given, a must. I not only have my bike insured, I also have myself insured. I hold a Cycling Australia licence that covers me in the event of an accident. Mine is a race licence that covers me for all types of cycling, whether it be an event, race, or just pedaling around with the kids.
Well anyway, that is all sorted and I am just waiting for the bike shop to finish their report and it'll be off so I collect my claim. They will cover helmet, shoes, clothing Garmin and repairs to my bike up to and including a certain value.
I have also picked out my new helmet, which is in stock and have ordered my new shoes. My new helmet is a bright green (visibility...lol) Limar 778 Superlight Road Helmet. It is light, very light and super comfy.
My shoes are a pair of Bontrager XXX Road Shoes. I was considering moving away from Bontrager, but when you consider that my current pair and very well used I really can't complain. They come in red and white colours, but I think I'll stick with white...
As far as the Garmin is concerned I will probably go with the Garmin Edge 810. I currently have an Edge 800 and have been extremely happy with it. The reason I want to go up and stay around the same level is for the navigation side. I love this aspect of my 800 and would probably be lost without it. My Garmin is probably still usable but I have noticed a small crack in the screen. I don't know how this will effect riding in the rain, so my thinking is to just get it sorted.
My clothing I will probably just pick up from various on-line bike stores etc...I still can't believe that my cheap $21.00 pair of bib shorts did not even suffer a scratch whilst my $100.00 Jersey has holes in the arms and down the back...
I'm hoping the process will all be done and dusted by the middle of the week. I have friends who have offered to lend me gear as a helmet and shoes. This is great, what a great bunch of folk I know, very happy to call them my friends. But to be honest I am still having trouble with the knee, so I will probably spend the rest of this week of the bike and just lightly pedal on the exercise bike.
While I was out I decided to drop into our local council and put in an official complaint about the section of road that the accident was on. My may concern was to have this section, and many like it, repaired. But I thought, what the hell, so I put in for some compensation.Not a lot. I don;t want to retire with a squillion on the bank, although that would be nice. But I feel that it is their lack of maintenance that contributed directly to the accident. So all I will be seeking is what I am replacing and/or repairing. Yes, I have gone through my insurance company, but the council is negligent. I have to claim through my insurance because god only knows how long it will take for council to pay out, if at all.
So we'll see how I go, and see what is to eventuate throughout the week...
Cheers all.
First off contacting my insurance company and they were happy to comply to my needs. I decided to go through my home contents, 1. because the excess was cheaper and 2. because the excess was cheaper.
I do have my bike insured but as it didn't suffer too much damage I didn't seethe need to go through them. Also my contents covers my clothing, helmet, shoes and Garmin, so why not I say.
We pay insurance for this very thing. I have a good bike, but if it was to be a right off I can't at present afford to replace it. Some people think that insurances are a waste of money. I can see their point and they probably are...until you need them.
Living through floods here in Bundaberg I have heard all the, "I can't afford insurance" excuses. But don't tell you can't afford insurance whilst your sucking down a cigarette...ok rant over.
Insurance to me is a given, a must. I not only have my bike insured, I also have myself insured. I hold a Cycling Australia licence that covers me in the event of an accident. Mine is a race licence that covers me for all types of cycling, whether it be an event, race, or just pedaling around with the kids.
Well anyway, that is all sorted and I am just waiting for the bike shop to finish their report and it'll be off so I collect my claim. They will cover helmet, shoes, clothing Garmin and repairs to my bike up to and including a certain value.
I have also picked out my new helmet, which is in stock and have ordered my new shoes. My new helmet is a bright green (visibility...lol) Limar 778 Superlight Road Helmet. It is light, very light and super comfy.
My shoes are a pair of Bontrager XXX Road Shoes. I was considering moving away from Bontrager, but when you consider that my current pair and very well used I really can't complain. They come in red and white colours, but I think I'll stick with white...
As far as the Garmin is concerned I will probably go with the Garmin Edge 810. I currently have an Edge 800 and have been extremely happy with it. The reason I want to go up and stay around the same level is for the navigation side. I love this aspect of my 800 and would probably be lost without it. My Garmin is probably still usable but I have noticed a small crack in the screen. I don't know how this will effect riding in the rain, so my thinking is to just get it sorted.
My clothing I will probably just pick up from various on-line bike stores etc...I still can't believe that my cheap $21.00 pair of bib shorts did not even suffer a scratch whilst my $100.00 Jersey has holes in the arms and down the back...
I'm hoping the process will all be done and dusted by the middle of the week. I have friends who have offered to lend me gear as a helmet and shoes. This is great, what a great bunch of folk I know, very happy to call them my friends. But to be honest I am still having trouble with the knee, so I will probably spend the rest of this week of the bike and just lightly pedal on the exercise bike.
While I was out I decided to drop into our local council and put in an official complaint about the section of road that the accident was on. My may concern was to have this section, and many like it, repaired. But I thought, what the hell, so I put in for some compensation.Not a lot. I don;t want to retire with a squillion on the bank, although that would be nice. But I feel that it is their lack of maintenance that contributed directly to the accident. So all I will be seeking is what I am replacing and/or repairing. Yes, I have gone through my insurance company, but the council is negligent. I have to claim through my insurance because god only knows how long it will take for council to pay out, if at all.
So we'll see how I go, and see what is to eventuate throughout the week...
Cheers all.
Saturday, 12 March 2016
Didn't Quite Make It
Cycling Around Bundaberg
https://www.facebook.com/ian.stapleton.33/posts/991507364264980?notif_t=like
This is a link to a video I have made. It takes in the earlier part of the ride with my friends as well as the accident that I had.
This is my first attempt at putting together a video. So yes, it is a bit rough, but practice makes perfect. It is something I want to do more of and eventually there will be other angels using a different camera. One day I may even fork out for a Fly 6 and get some rear action going as well.
https://www.facebook.com/ian.stapleton.33/posts/991507364264980?notif_t=like
This is a link to a video I have made. It takes in the earlier part of the ride with my friends as well as the accident that I had.
This is my first attempt at putting together a video. So yes, it is a bit rough, but practice makes perfect. It is something I want to do more of and eventually there will be other angels using a different camera. One day I may even fork out for a Fly 6 and get some rear action going as well.
Cycling Through The Heart
As much as people have probably forgotten today, cycling is etched strongly into our history. We have numerous medal at World and Olympic games and as far as the international stage is concerned, our riders throughout history have been up there with the best, making their mark and setting records. Even in Melbourne's Olympic Games which saw Australia's first cycling team, we stood proudly on the Podium along side the greats in both Track and Road.
But it isn't always about competition. Cycling has been at the forefront of meeting the transportation needs of the average Aussie. It has been a main source of commuting for adult and child alike. Unfortunately it was lost there for some time, but it is so wonderful to see the strong comeback that it is making, despite all the naysayers and anti bicycle brigade.
One record that is probably not well know was set in 1914. It wasn't an Hour Track Record or a Tour de France annihilation of the peleton. It was a 3000 km trek from Adelaide to Darwin through the heart of the country.
It was in May 1914, almost 102 years ago, a 21 year old Australian of German decent, Edward "Ryko" Reichenbach, rode his modified bike the 3000 km journey from Adelaide Post Office up through the center, to arrive at Darwin Post Office just 28 days later.
Edward, or Ryko, was a keen cyclist and photographer, and the 28 day journey saw him break the record for the Fastest Person to Cycling from Adelaide to Darwin.
He left Adelaide armed with a trusted Kodak camera and a companion by the name of John Fahey. Unfortunately for Fahey, he sprained his ankle just prior to crossing the South Australian/Northern Territory Border which saw Ryko finish the journey on his own.
Edward "Ryko" Reichenbach took over 3000 photos of his trip and a display was exhibited in the Darwin Library on June 11 2014. The Darwin Library is built on the site of the Darwin Post Office where Ryko arrived 100 years prior and the exhibition was to mark the centennial of his cycling and photographic achievement.
Through the early years of the war Ryko was suspected of being a German spy because of his heritage. After the trip he moved to Sydney, but not for long. In 1915 he moved back to the Northern Territory where he continued to roam in his delightfully wanderlust manner.
As a truck driver I had noticed over the last few years how cycling touring has increased. More and more people travelling on bikes up and down our highways, back roads and of course through the center. It is becoming more and more publicized and is fast gathering interest on all levels as we see the establishment of rail trails in the country. Sadly New South Wales and Queensland are far behind Victoria when it comes to this.
New Zealand and European countries have had wonderful success in attracting tourism in the form of riders to their areas. Maybe one day we will have a Local Government with vision enough to see the benefits that could be had through these trails and attracting the touring rider to our area.
But rail trails or not, when I read stories such as this, it just makes my feet more the itchier, desiring the wanderlust spirit of Edward "Ryko" Reichenbach.
I love all forms of cycling but out of all touring intrigues me the most. It isn't so much the distance, but the travel that gets me in. Yes, you could enter a masochistic ultra distance Randonnee, much like the Paris-Brest-Paris, a 1200 km push in under 80-90 hours. But that is still in a sense a race, one that is against yourself. A cruel punishment, that yes, does have its attractions and I'm extremely interested in the distance stuff.
But touring is a holiday, getting back to that no pressure kind of riding. That fact that you can travel around at approximately 20 km/h all day just soaking in the sites, travelling (pardon the cliche) the road less traveled.
Many manufacturers cater for the touring rider, ranging form factory steel frames to custom builds, Incumbents to tandems and tandem/incumbent mixes. There are wonderful manufacturers, the Dutch Cargo Bikes, Butcher Bikes, Salsa (my pick) and the varieties are nearly as endless as the imagination. If I had a bottomless magical refilling wallet the possibilities could just be endless.
The slow road appeals to me, the simple fact that it is just you and your bike, no time restraints, no rush, no have to's, just riding and getting there when you do. The countless back roads we have in this continent makes it a tourer's paradise.
One day shortly the old red road bike wil have its modifications done. Nothing too drastic, just a rack, some panniers and rack bag, handle bar bag, some wider tyres and some flat mountain bike/touring pedals and shoes. Oh and a new seat, it desperately needs a new seat...lol.
So hopefully in the next couple of months I'll be set and off on my first short journey, riding off into the sunset on my shining red steed. Maybe I'll see you out there?
http://www.cycletrailsaustralia.com/# is a link of twenty great trips throughout this wonderful country.
But it isn't always about competition. Cycling has been at the forefront of meeting the transportation needs of the average Aussie. It has been a main source of commuting for adult and child alike. Unfortunately it was lost there for some time, but it is so wonderful to see the strong comeback that it is making, despite all the naysayers and anti bicycle brigade.
One record that is probably not well know was set in 1914. It wasn't an Hour Track Record or a Tour de France annihilation of the peleton. It was a 3000 km trek from Adelaide to Darwin through the heart of the country.
It was in May 1914, almost 102 years ago, a 21 year old Australian of German decent, Edward "Ryko" Reichenbach, rode his modified bike the 3000 km journey from Adelaide Post Office up through the center, to arrive at Darwin Post Office just 28 days later.
Edward, or Ryko, was a keen cyclist and photographer, and the 28 day journey saw him break the record for the Fastest Person to Cycling from Adelaide to Darwin.
He left Adelaide armed with a trusted Kodak camera and a companion by the name of John Fahey. Unfortunately for Fahey, he sprained his ankle just prior to crossing the South Australian/Northern Territory Border which saw Ryko finish the journey on his own.
Edward "Ryko" Reichenbach took over 3000 photos of his trip and a display was exhibited in the Darwin Library on June 11 2014. The Darwin Library is built on the site of the Darwin Post Office where Ryko arrived 100 years prior and the exhibition was to mark the centennial of his cycling and photographic achievement.
Through the early years of the war Ryko was suspected of being a German spy because of his heritage. After the trip he moved to Sydney, but not for long. In 1915 he moved back to the Northern Territory where he continued to roam in his delightfully wanderlust manner.
As a truck driver I had noticed over the last few years how cycling touring has increased. More and more people travelling on bikes up and down our highways, back roads and of course through the center. It is becoming more and more publicized and is fast gathering interest on all levels as we see the establishment of rail trails in the country. Sadly New South Wales and Queensland are far behind Victoria when it comes to this.
New Zealand and European countries have had wonderful success in attracting tourism in the form of riders to their areas. Maybe one day we will have a Local Government with vision enough to see the benefits that could be had through these trails and attracting the touring rider to our area.
But rail trails or not, when I read stories such as this, it just makes my feet more the itchier, desiring the wanderlust spirit of Edward "Ryko" Reichenbach.
I love all forms of cycling but out of all touring intrigues me the most. It isn't so much the distance, but the travel that gets me in. Yes, you could enter a masochistic ultra distance Randonnee, much like the Paris-Brest-Paris, a 1200 km push in under 80-90 hours. But that is still in a sense a race, one that is against yourself. A cruel punishment, that yes, does have its attractions and I'm extremely interested in the distance stuff.
But touring is a holiday, getting back to that no pressure kind of riding. That fact that you can travel around at approximately 20 km/h all day just soaking in the sites, travelling (pardon the cliche) the road less traveled.
Many manufacturers cater for the touring rider, ranging form factory steel frames to custom builds, Incumbents to tandems and tandem/incumbent mixes. There are wonderful manufacturers, the Dutch Cargo Bikes, Butcher Bikes, Salsa (my pick) and the varieties are nearly as endless as the imagination. If I had a bottomless magical refilling wallet the possibilities could just be endless.
The slow road appeals to me, the simple fact that it is just you and your bike, no time restraints, no rush, no have to's, just riding and getting there when you do. The countless back roads we have in this continent makes it a tourer's paradise.
One day shortly the old red road bike wil have its modifications done. Nothing too drastic, just a rack, some panniers and rack bag, handle bar bag, some wider tyres and some flat mountain bike/touring pedals and shoes. Oh and a new seat, it desperately needs a new seat...lol.
So hopefully in the next couple of months I'll be set and off on my first short journey, riding off into the sunset on my shining red steed. Maybe I'll see you out there?
Below are some historical photos taken by 'Ryko' on his epic journey
http://www.cycletrailsaustralia.com/# is a link of twenty great trips throughout this wonderful country.
Wednesday, 9 March 2016
The Morning After
As I lay awake in bed the old Maureen McGovern song from Poseidon Adventure plays through my head, "There's got to be a morning after".
Unfortunately this is true, there's no escaping it. Very much sorer, and the pains of yesterday are being etched in my memory. Aches that were not apparent yesterday are coming to the surface. Even other symptoms like dizziness are starting to make themselves known, and there is only so much Panadol can do.
Today is a day of laying around, a visit to the doctors for a better check up, and some phone calls to the insurance company. I'm not looking forward to going out and looking at my bike. Although when my mate dropped it off yesterday there didn't appear to be too much damaged, I just know the more I look, the more I'll find.
I suppose I should upload yesterday's ride to Strava and title it DNF. After all if its not on Strava, it didn't happen. So maybe I should omit it, and by some miracle the angst and reality of yesterday's drama will somehow magically disappear. But no; the Piper has been paid and I must dance to the music, I must play the hand that I have been dealt.
I think disappointment is the strongest emotion, and not of the injuries I'm suffering, but my bike. I know, I know, its just a bike right? Wrong...it's my bike. I have done over 13,000 kilometers of joyous riding in her. I know her sounds, I know her feel, I know how she changes gears and I have become so accustomed to her agility and handling. I love my bike, and the thought of having her replaced makes me forlorn. The thought of replacing the damaged parts, may be ok, but the deep seated notion that there could be an issue in the carbon frame somewhere makes me nervous.
Another disappointment is that road season starts next week. The One Hundred Laps of a Wednesday night around the Velodrome followed by the first race of the season the following Saturday afternoon. Ah well, at least my girls will get to ride...
I also just miss my riding. Days off the bike are like days locked in a prison. My riding is my time to fly, my freedom.
So today I'll face the music, begin doing what I have to do and start working through the processes one step at a time. I suppose if I take this approach it may just go by more speedily than I expect.
Maybe I am over complicating it all in my head, maybe it will all go smoother and faster than I think. Maybe I just need to go and have a coffee, and take a breath. Sounds like a plan.
Unfortunately this is true, there's no escaping it. Very much sorer, and the pains of yesterday are being etched in my memory. Aches that were not apparent yesterday are coming to the surface. Even other symptoms like dizziness are starting to make themselves known, and there is only so much Panadol can do.
Today is a day of laying around, a visit to the doctors for a better check up, and some phone calls to the insurance company. I'm not looking forward to going out and looking at my bike. Although when my mate dropped it off yesterday there didn't appear to be too much damaged, I just know the more I look, the more I'll find.
I suppose I should upload yesterday's ride to Strava and title it DNF. After all if its not on Strava, it didn't happen. So maybe I should omit it, and by some miracle the angst and reality of yesterday's drama will somehow magically disappear. But no; the Piper has been paid and I must dance to the music, I must play the hand that I have been dealt.
I think disappointment is the strongest emotion, and not of the injuries I'm suffering, but my bike. I know, I know, its just a bike right? Wrong...it's my bike. I have done over 13,000 kilometers of joyous riding in her. I know her sounds, I know her feel, I know how she changes gears and I have become so accustomed to her agility and handling. I love my bike, and the thought of having her replaced makes me forlorn. The thought of replacing the damaged parts, may be ok, but the deep seated notion that there could be an issue in the carbon frame somewhere makes me nervous.
Another disappointment is that road season starts next week. The One Hundred Laps of a Wednesday night around the Velodrome followed by the first race of the season the following Saturday afternoon. Ah well, at least my girls will get to ride...
I also just miss my riding. Days off the bike are like days locked in a prison. My riding is my time to fly, my freedom.
So today I'll face the music, begin doing what I have to do and start working through the processes one step at a time. I suppose if I take this approach it may just go by more speedily than I expect.
Maybe I am over complicating it all in my head, maybe it will all go smoother and faster than I think. Maybe I just need to go and have a coffee, and take a breath. Sounds like a plan.
The Art Of Coming Down
Well I said I was going to blog about my experiences whilst cycling and here you go.
Unfortunately, as I found out today, I am not as resilient as our shining Pros. They come off at great speed and loose half the skin covering their bodies, but some how seem to get up, dust themselves off and mounting their steeds effortlessly catch the passed peleton.
Whether you love cycling or hate it, you have to admit that they are a pretty tough bunch. The endurance to push past the pain barrier on a long endurance ride, the radical climbing they submit themselves to, and of course the crashes.
Well I'm not a Pro, I'm a 52 year old husband and father of four. I have no great ability to endure grimacing pain in the hope of glory. Basically I'm a big sook...lol, and especially when it comes to pain of the bloody variety. I've never been one to want to "learn the hard way", I suppose most of us aren't.
As a rider I deeply believe in safety, I love to share the road with motor vehicles, I am one to err on the side of caution and I have always been one to understand and accept my ability in a real way. I know that I don't have the cornering and down hill capabilities of others so back off and live another day is my motto. I'll make sure there is plenty of room when exiting an intersection, a motor vehicle has right of weight and when it comes to wet and greasy roads the old motor cyclist cuts in. Don't push the lean, slow down and sit up. And (I hate starting a sentence with and) when it comes to railway tracks I am very careful, especially in the wet.
I don't remember coming down, I just remember hitting the deck and rolling to the side. I didn't know at first if anything was broken, but obviously coming down on my right hip I had a great deal of trouble moving the right leg. Pain started to creep in from my elbow and, well I didn't know what to think. Hearing the crack of the carbon and the rattle of components I knew someone was down, but didn't realise it was me. It was only when I lay there moaning, in the gravel on the road side that I knew, "Shit".
My friends were quick to get back to the site and my condition, and of course the bike's, was assessed. Not feeling like getting up there I lay, like a gravel and prickle covered lamington. It was only a few days prior how I had thought to myself how lucky I had been. All these on and off years of riding, and especially the past Eighteen months, not a scratch, this being after watching one of our group come off on a round-a-bout on Sunday. I do have to say that her exit from the bike would've been far more graceful than mine, although I do think mine was probably far more spectacular.
It was only a couple of months ago when another friend tumbled dramatically in a down hill run on his mountain bike, fracturing places within his person and just now getting back to riding. It doesn't seem all that long ago when another friend came down on another set of cane tracks out of town breaking his collar bone.I have always been told that these things are inevitable, but really, really hoped they wouldn't happen to me.
Anyway, back to the crash. When it comes to railway lines, and especially cane train lines, you see Bundaberg is a big sugar producer, I always approach and cross with care. There seems to be a level of normality when it comes to train lines, but the cane lines, each one is an experience within itself. Some are great, you can cross them and hardly feel as though you have. Others, you know you just have to go home and check the trueing on your wheels.
But this one today, this one was the exception all on its own. I knew it was there, I ride this road from time to time. I knew it wasn't flash so I even dropped my speed. I knew it was wet and lines crossed the road on an angle so I approached straight on. The others went across no worries, so why did I come down?
I moved out toward the center of the road to make my approach as straight as possible. Then I saw it, the gaping distance between the road and metal rails, oh and the big hole where chunks of tar had disappeared. I lifted my front wheel and, great made it, all clear. Nope, not quite. There now came the surprise, the back wheel. Swoosh! Out she went from under me, but I didn't slide. The wheel must have somehow caught in the gap and threw me like an angry bull. But this time there were no Rodeo Clowns, no applauding crowd, no prize money for best ride on offer, just me and the bitumen. My prize was the battle scars I am now healing from, the humbled pride and the sadness that maybe bike and accessories need to be replaced.
I'm glad for helmets. I would always wear one even if the weren't mandatory. The back of mine is pushed in and it will need replacing. Much better a helmet than my skull.
My shoes, yes I was looking at replacing them, but not this way. They still had plenty of life left in them. They had just seen many kilometers of use and I needed a pair with a better fit.
Possibly my Garmin, a small digital camera I had in my back pocket and of course, the biggy, my Domane. Although carbon is tough there is no real way of telling of its structural integrity now. I know I come down hard, and it could be ok, but do I want to take that chance coming into road season...no not me. A lot of the damage appears to be cosmetic and I have it insured, as well as myself. So I'll see what my mate at the bike shop says...
I'll heal in time, the soreness and stiffness that I feel now will diminish, the pride will restore itself and in the end there are no broken bones or serious injury. All will be good in the end and I will where the scars of honour proudly. My moment of glory has shone, well for today anyway, and I can stand tall with my peers knowing that I have survived a tumble in the not so aggressive peleton of our little group. No I didn't get up, dust my self off and chase down the pack, my ride to glory was to hospital in the back of an ambulance. Yes, it seems there are still elements of toughness I need to work on, but I can save them for another day.
(A video of the fall to follow)
Unfortunately, as I found out today, I am not as resilient as our shining Pros. They come off at great speed and loose half the skin covering their bodies, but some how seem to get up, dust themselves off and mounting their steeds effortlessly catch the passed peleton.
Whether you love cycling or hate it, you have to admit that they are a pretty tough bunch. The endurance to push past the pain barrier on a long endurance ride, the radical climbing they submit themselves to, and of course the crashes.
Well I'm not a Pro, I'm a 52 year old husband and father of four. I have no great ability to endure grimacing pain in the hope of glory. Basically I'm a big sook...lol, and especially when it comes to pain of the bloody variety. I've never been one to want to "learn the hard way", I suppose most of us aren't.
As a rider I deeply believe in safety, I love to share the road with motor vehicles, I am one to err on the side of caution and I have always been one to understand and accept my ability in a real way. I know that I don't have the cornering and down hill capabilities of others so back off and live another day is my motto. I'll make sure there is plenty of room when exiting an intersection, a motor vehicle has right of weight and when it comes to wet and greasy roads the old motor cyclist cuts in. Don't push the lean, slow down and sit up. And (I hate starting a sentence with and) when it comes to railway tracks I am very careful, especially in the wet.
I don't remember coming down, I just remember hitting the deck and rolling to the side. I didn't know at first if anything was broken, but obviously coming down on my right hip I had a great deal of trouble moving the right leg. Pain started to creep in from my elbow and, well I didn't know what to think. Hearing the crack of the carbon and the rattle of components I knew someone was down, but didn't realise it was me. It was only when I lay there moaning, in the gravel on the road side that I knew, "Shit".
My friends were quick to get back to the site and my condition, and of course the bike's, was assessed. Not feeling like getting up there I lay, like a gravel and prickle covered lamington. It was only a few days prior how I had thought to myself how lucky I had been. All these on and off years of riding, and especially the past Eighteen months, not a scratch, this being after watching one of our group come off on a round-a-bout on Sunday. I do have to say that her exit from the bike would've been far more graceful than mine, although I do think mine was probably far more spectacular.
It was only a couple of months ago when another friend tumbled dramatically in a down hill run on his mountain bike, fracturing places within his person and just now getting back to riding. It doesn't seem all that long ago when another friend came down on another set of cane tracks out of town breaking his collar bone.I have always been told that these things are inevitable, but really, really hoped they wouldn't happen to me.
Anyway, back to the crash. When it comes to railway lines, and especially cane train lines, you see Bundaberg is a big sugar producer, I always approach and cross with care. There seems to be a level of normality when it comes to train lines, but the cane lines, each one is an experience within itself. Some are great, you can cross them and hardly feel as though you have. Others, you know you just have to go home and check the trueing on your wheels.
But this one today, this one was the exception all on its own. I knew it was there, I ride this road from time to time. I knew it wasn't flash so I even dropped my speed. I knew it was wet and lines crossed the road on an angle so I approached straight on. The others went across no worries, so why did I come down?
I moved out toward the center of the road to make my approach as straight as possible. Then I saw it, the gaping distance between the road and metal rails, oh and the big hole where chunks of tar had disappeared. I lifted my front wheel and, great made it, all clear. Nope, not quite. There now came the surprise, the back wheel. Swoosh! Out she went from under me, but I didn't slide. The wheel must have somehow caught in the gap and threw me like an angry bull. But this time there were no Rodeo Clowns, no applauding crowd, no prize money for best ride on offer, just me and the bitumen. My prize was the battle scars I am now healing from, the humbled pride and the sadness that maybe bike and accessories need to be replaced.
I'm glad for helmets. I would always wear one even if the weren't mandatory. The back of mine is pushed in and it will need replacing. Much better a helmet than my skull.
My shoes, yes I was looking at replacing them, but not this way. They still had plenty of life left in them. They had just seen many kilometers of use and I needed a pair with a better fit.
Possibly my Garmin, a small digital camera I had in my back pocket and of course, the biggy, my Domane. Although carbon is tough there is no real way of telling of its structural integrity now. I know I come down hard, and it could be ok, but do I want to take that chance coming into road season...no not me. A lot of the damage appears to be cosmetic and I have it insured, as well as myself. So I'll see what my mate at the bike shop says...
I'll heal in time, the soreness and stiffness that I feel now will diminish, the pride will restore itself and in the end there are no broken bones or serious injury. All will be good in the end and I will where the scars of honour proudly. My moment of glory has shone, well for today anyway, and I can stand tall with my peers knowing that I have survived a tumble in the not so aggressive peleton of our little group. No I didn't get up, dust my self off and chase down the pack, my ride to glory was to hospital in the back of an ambulance. Yes, it seems there are still elements of toughness I need to work on, but I can save them for another day.
(A video of the fall to follow)
Monday, 7 March 2016
Just Love To Ride
Call it cycling, bike riding, whatever you wish, but remember back in time when it wasn't complicated. Before the Stravas, Garmin Connects and myriad of other fitness apps.
On yesterday's ride I was desperate to break my 30 km/h average for a one kilometer ride. No, I didn't by the way, with the relentless headwind and hills...that's my story and I'm sticking to it...lol. But whilst drudging on into a strong headwind and thinking to myself, "I need to go harder, come on", I started to drift back in time. I began to remember what it was like as a kid to ride, no Strava segments, no averages, no pressure on myself, just riding. A time before mandatory helmet laws and all the crap where you were free just to ride, no restriction and no interference.
I can still remember vividly my first bike. It was Christmas 1968, I was five and there under the tree was a bright blue 20" bike with high rise bars, dragster seat and sissy bar (these were the norm back then). I had been hounding my parents for a bike for ages, so the story gets told, and my dream finally came true.
Unbeknownst to my parents I had been riding for the past twelve months, a neighbourhood friend's brother had a 20" Dragster with T-bar three speed shifter on the the top tube, you know the ones that carotid your testicles if you slid forward, and elongated forks, it was so cool. Well anyway, I had been learning to ride this, no training wheels, just on the fly which I mastered rather quickly.
I remember arguing with my mother about how the training wheels needed to come off, I didn't need them. I couldn't tell how I knew I didn't need them, as it wasn't so much her knowing about me riding was an issue, it was about whose bike I had been riding that was. He was one of the boys I wasn't meant to mix with.
Anyway in the end my parents relented and dad took them off. By 7:30 am I was shooting up and down our street in Unanderra, a king, my own bike finally.
I rode everywhere, and even places I shouldn't have. Not a day went by that I din't ride to school, ride around town or simply ride up and down our street just for the fun of it. My best friend at the time became jealous as I no longer had time for him. I didn't have much time for many of my friends as none of them had bikes, and I did.
After a couple of years, the whole high rise bars and long seat went by the way side. These made it too difficult navigating bush tracks, old drains and the tracks around the old quarry. The long saddle was removed along with the high rise bars and after raiding my sister's bike, that was no longer used, they were replaced with a saddle from a 26" girls bike and flat bars. We didn't have BMX bikes back in that day so I suppose you could say that this was our version.
Rain saw me out on the bike up to my cranks in mud. Other friends started getting bikes by this stage so races were on. We would gather at the corner on a Saturday or Sunday morning with a small dilly bag over our shoulders packed with some vegemite sangers and a bottle of cordial, and we'd be off.
We would ride into Wollongong, survey the beaches, or we would head up into the mountains zig-zagging or walking our bikes up the steep inclines.
My uncle was a gadgets man, and me being a kid that was allergic to chocolate I would get bike bits rather than Easter eggs for Easter. This was great, new pedals, chains, speedos, lights, you name it I had it. If it could be fitted onto a bike, then well and good, except for a basket...lol.
As I grew taller the old 20" had to go and I eventually up graded to a 26" three speed. Whilst it was good, it wasn't the same. I kept comparing it to my first as though it was some lost love, and in a sense it was. But as I continued to ride, I realised that on the bigger bike I could ride further. The bike having gears I could climb the inclines rather than walk. My friends eventually got bigger bikes as well and it wasn't long before they were all fitted with racks.
Options, as far as we were concerned, were limitless. Instead of just carrying something over our shoulder and going for the day, we could load up and go out for the weekend. So, in a nutshell we transformed into junior tourers, bikes loaded up with tins of baked beans, a tent and sleeping bag. Back then, before the urban sprawl there were no limits as to where we could roam and set up camp.
Then at twelve years of age we moved. The friendships based around cycling were no more. Where we had moved to not many had bikes, and being a small country town I couldn't understand why. People rather walked than ride, this was foreign to me.
Anyway, the old 26" lay stacked up in the shed. It would be bought out from time to time, but as all my friends walked it didn't seem feasible to get too carried away with it. I was playing footy and in the early stages of high school when salvation came, I got a job. The job was as a paper boy, up every morning at five, down to the newsagents, rolling the papers, filling up the milk crate I had on the rack and then off on my run. $1.25 per day was worth it. It was a great excuse just to ride again. I also found out that a few of my other friends had bikes, but they were restricted to just riding for the paper run, what the ????
It wasn't long after this one of my other school friends, who was into cycling introduced me to track. Wow, what a rush. It wasn't long before I bought an old second hand road frame and fitted it with a fixed wheel. I loved it and couldn't get enough of it. As we were getting older, and track was through the summer months there was no school football to keep me conflicted. We were able to get permission to do track for sport on Wednesday afternoons. After all there were those that were allowed to hit golf balls around, why couldn't we do what we liked. It wasn't long after that I got my first ten speed road bike.
Times were simple then, we didn't over complicate our lives with "stuff". Even when it came to the competition side of things it was fun, light, no pressure. We didn't have social media based sports apps that seem to make every aspect of our lives a competition.
So when I get a little too caught up in the "I have to go harder" mindset I now remember back to a time when we had no bike computers, no expectations, no mandatory helmet laws or government interference, a time when we had only two things, our bikes and ourselves and we just loved to ride.
On yesterday's ride I was desperate to break my 30 km/h average for a one kilometer ride. No, I didn't by the way, with the relentless headwind and hills...that's my story and I'm sticking to it...lol. But whilst drudging on into a strong headwind and thinking to myself, "I need to go harder, come on", I started to drift back in time. I began to remember what it was like as a kid to ride, no Strava segments, no averages, no pressure on myself, just riding. A time before mandatory helmet laws and all the crap where you were free just to ride, no restriction and no interference.
I can still remember vividly my first bike. It was Christmas 1968, I was five and there under the tree was a bright blue 20" bike with high rise bars, dragster seat and sissy bar (these were the norm back then). I had been hounding my parents for a bike for ages, so the story gets told, and my dream finally came true.
Unbeknownst to my parents I had been riding for the past twelve months, a neighbourhood friend's brother had a 20" Dragster with T-bar three speed shifter on the the top tube, you know the ones that carotid your testicles if you slid forward, and elongated forks, it was so cool. Well anyway, I had been learning to ride this, no training wheels, just on the fly which I mastered rather quickly.
I remember arguing with my mother about how the training wheels needed to come off, I didn't need them. I couldn't tell how I knew I didn't need them, as it wasn't so much her knowing about me riding was an issue, it was about whose bike I had been riding that was. He was one of the boys I wasn't meant to mix with.
Anyway in the end my parents relented and dad took them off. By 7:30 am I was shooting up and down our street in Unanderra, a king, my own bike finally.
I rode everywhere, and even places I shouldn't have. Not a day went by that I din't ride to school, ride around town or simply ride up and down our street just for the fun of it. My best friend at the time became jealous as I no longer had time for him. I didn't have much time for many of my friends as none of them had bikes, and I did.
After a couple of years, the whole high rise bars and long seat went by the way side. These made it too difficult navigating bush tracks, old drains and the tracks around the old quarry. The long saddle was removed along with the high rise bars and after raiding my sister's bike, that was no longer used, they were replaced with a saddle from a 26" girls bike and flat bars. We didn't have BMX bikes back in that day so I suppose you could say that this was our version.
Rain saw me out on the bike up to my cranks in mud. Other friends started getting bikes by this stage so races were on. We would gather at the corner on a Saturday or Sunday morning with a small dilly bag over our shoulders packed with some vegemite sangers and a bottle of cordial, and we'd be off.
We would ride into Wollongong, survey the beaches, or we would head up into the mountains zig-zagging or walking our bikes up the steep inclines.
My uncle was a gadgets man, and me being a kid that was allergic to chocolate I would get bike bits rather than Easter eggs for Easter. This was great, new pedals, chains, speedos, lights, you name it I had it. If it could be fitted onto a bike, then well and good, except for a basket...lol.
As I grew taller the old 20" had to go and I eventually up graded to a 26" three speed. Whilst it was good, it wasn't the same. I kept comparing it to my first as though it was some lost love, and in a sense it was. But as I continued to ride, I realised that on the bigger bike I could ride further. The bike having gears I could climb the inclines rather than walk. My friends eventually got bigger bikes as well and it wasn't long before they were all fitted with racks.
Options, as far as we were concerned, were limitless. Instead of just carrying something over our shoulder and going for the day, we could load up and go out for the weekend. So, in a nutshell we transformed into junior tourers, bikes loaded up with tins of baked beans, a tent and sleeping bag. Back then, before the urban sprawl there were no limits as to where we could roam and set up camp.
Then at twelve years of age we moved. The friendships based around cycling were no more. Where we had moved to not many had bikes, and being a small country town I couldn't understand why. People rather walked than ride, this was foreign to me.
Anyway, the old 26" lay stacked up in the shed. It would be bought out from time to time, but as all my friends walked it didn't seem feasible to get too carried away with it. I was playing footy and in the early stages of high school when salvation came, I got a job. The job was as a paper boy, up every morning at five, down to the newsagents, rolling the papers, filling up the milk crate I had on the rack and then off on my run. $1.25 per day was worth it. It was a great excuse just to ride again. I also found out that a few of my other friends had bikes, but they were restricted to just riding for the paper run, what the ????
It wasn't long after this one of my other school friends, who was into cycling introduced me to track. Wow, what a rush. It wasn't long before I bought an old second hand road frame and fitted it with a fixed wheel. I loved it and couldn't get enough of it. As we were getting older, and track was through the summer months there was no school football to keep me conflicted. We were able to get permission to do track for sport on Wednesday afternoons. After all there were those that were allowed to hit golf balls around, why couldn't we do what we liked. It wasn't long after that I got my first ten speed road bike.
Times were simple then, we didn't over complicate our lives with "stuff". Even when it came to the competition side of things it was fun, light, no pressure. We didn't have social media based sports apps that seem to make every aspect of our lives a competition.
So when I get a little too caught up in the "I have to go harder" mindset I now remember back to a time when we had no bike computers, no expectations, no mandatory helmet laws or government interference, a time when we had only two things, our bikes and ourselves and we just loved to ride.
Saturday, 5 March 2016
A Steady Lap Round The Track
I thought I'd put this very short video up of Bundaberg's local Veledrome. Its since been resurfaced and for an outside track its pretty schmick
The Joys Of Cycling
I suppose to each and everyone one of us cycling is something different. Whether one is just a weekend park ride with the family kind of person, a commuter, recreational rider or would be racer. Cycling to each of us would mean something specific, along with ones' goals and ambitions.
To some it could be just for fun, some to loose weight and and gain a bit of extra fitness, some may desire to attack some kind of masochistic randonnee, or lead the peleton in a mad sprint for the finish line. We all have our reasons. But you have to admit, once the bug bites, it bites hard.
I remember when I purchased my first road bike, I picked it up all shiny and metallic red. I had the seat and bars adjusted and away I went, riding home with my daughter still in my work clothes.
Within a week I was being fitted for shoes, SPD SL pedal, some XXL Lycra. That was it, I was off and nothing was stopping me. The motorbike, a rather meticulous Suzuki GSX 1400 was parked in the back of the shed, and I rode the pushy everywhere. I rode to and from work the long way, to the shops, training rides with my daughter, you name it, I rode. These rides gradually became longer and longer, and longer and longer. I was becoming a fully fledged MAMIL.
The love of cycling had bitten, and bitten hard. An old acquainted love had been renewed. As a child I always had a bike, and in my teenage years I trialed a track bike for the first time...WOW. No brakes, fixed hubs, close and scary contact, track had it all. I tried a season of road, but my desire was track. I traveled to a few different places and was gaining experience and ability.
Sadly after a couple of years I moved up from the juniors and, well, my adapted old road frame was no longer legal. My parents, short of cash, were unable to keep me in the sport so it reluctantly went by the wayside. I kept the old bike, and along with the Malvern Star I would ride it from time to time.
Even through my adult years I always had bikes from time to time, riding to and from work etc. The kids growing up took their turns being towed in the kiddies trailer behind. But gradually the bike was used less and less, and it eventually disappeared, being sold off in a garage sale. Something went missing that day. I think I lost a little of my soul.
My oldest daughter from the time she was eight, she is twelve now, hounded me about a race bike, and you wouldn't believe it, a track bike. Me passing it off as a fleeting stage ignored it or made excuses. She had a bike that she could zip around on. But as cycling was shown on TV, and especially at the Olympics, this small child would sit glued watching these elite athletes speeding along in two wheeled glory.
Eventually when she was ten I relented and started to search out some bike stores and prices. I thought it better to get a road bike and get used to that style before tackling a trackie. But still procrastinating and my daughter still harping...lol, we found the bike of choice for her, We decided on a brand new, and new to Australia, Trek KRX. It was perfect but one problem, how was she going to get practice? After all she was only ten and needed an adult to ride with her, and who would that be?
There was really only one choice, me. So at that point, I was looking for an entry level road bike that I could ride along side of her. I opted for a Trek Alpha 1.1, simple, basic and practicable.
We rode together starting off at around fifteen to sixteen kilometers most days and that eventually grew to around twenty. It was only a few weeks and we hooked up with a social club and began riding in a group on Sunday mornings. That was great for my daughter, the experience gained by riding in a bunch was wonderful. It helped and encouraged myself greatly as well. These rides were also longer as well, up around the forty-five kilometer mark.
Not long after, the store where we bought our bikes began their shop rides on Saturday morning. A few of us novices tagged along behind a couple of very patient experienced riders with my daughter in tow. We were learning to ride, yes, but something deeper was forming, friendships. Whilst the rides on a Sundays were good, something was different about our little shop rides. Eventually the stop for coffee and social engagement became longer and longer. Phone numbers were exchanged, Facebook friends were established, but above all that true friendships were forming stronger and stronger.
We talked bikes, we'd meet throughout the week at the local bike store, and we began to grow. The encouragement that I have received from these people is absolutely priceless.
It wasn't long now and the need for N+1 was biting hard. It wasn't so much the need for an extra bike, but a better one. My distances were growing, my daughter was comfortably doing fifty to sixty kilometer rides and I had started doing eighty to one hundred kilometers on a regular basis. As much as I loved, and still love, the Alpha, it was too rigid for long rides. I wanted to progress, I had gotten faster, lighter and fitter.
My new love came in the form of a Trek Domane 5.2 with Shimano Ultegra mechanical group set. It was beautiful, it was light, but most of all it was comfortable, and still is. We've done over thirteen thousand happy kilometers now, with many more planned.
Of course N+1 doesn't stop there, next in line was my Hillbrick Pista track bike
Cycling isn't an option for me anymore, its a given, a must. Its when I ride I feel free, alive, rejuvenated. Even a two hundred kilometer ride when you are absolutely smashed, there is something so exhilarating.
Even though I've grown, I've grown alongside my friends. Yes, we still ride together. Some of us have chosen to take the next step and through our mid life crisis's have decided to give racing a go. Some have fallen to the dark side and tried mountain biking...lol...But we still get together, we still find time to keep in contact and especially find precious time to ride.
Yes I still have my shiny red Alpha, yes it still gets used. At present it is my trainer and commuter. I am planning at present to turn her into a budget tourer. It will do me until I can get the moola together for a purpose built tourer. My Domane is in the process of being kept in the shed and being brought out only on race days, and has had some minor upgrades getting her ready for competition.
All in all I'm happy. No, I don't have the most expensive, I don't have the most modern components, I might not have the lightest. But I love my bikes, I love being on them and I just can't get enough of that. My wife is getting nervous, as I talk constantly about how there is no need for a car...lol. If it was up to me, I wouldn't have one. Between the bike and public transport, well one could survive.
Through all this I think it is more than apparent that I have not lost my love for riding. Things might get daunting, challenges might seem too hard and I can put too much pressure on myself. But that's all honky dory, I have my bikes.
To some it could be just for fun, some to loose weight and and gain a bit of extra fitness, some may desire to attack some kind of masochistic randonnee, or lead the peleton in a mad sprint for the finish line. We all have our reasons. But you have to admit, once the bug bites, it bites hard.
I remember when I purchased my first road bike, I picked it up all shiny and metallic red. I had the seat and bars adjusted and away I went, riding home with my daughter still in my work clothes.
Within a week I was being fitted for shoes, SPD SL pedal, some XXL Lycra. That was it, I was off and nothing was stopping me. The motorbike, a rather meticulous Suzuki GSX 1400 was parked in the back of the shed, and I rode the pushy everywhere. I rode to and from work the long way, to the shops, training rides with my daughter, you name it, I rode. These rides gradually became longer and longer, and longer and longer. I was becoming a fully fledged MAMIL.
The love of cycling had bitten, and bitten hard. An old acquainted love had been renewed. As a child I always had a bike, and in my teenage years I trialed a track bike for the first time...WOW. No brakes, fixed hubs, close and scary contact, track had it all. I tried a season of road, but my desire was track. I traveled to a few different places and was gaining experience and ability.
Sadly after a couple of years I moved up from the juniors and, well, my adapted old road frame was no longer legal. My parents, short of cash, were unable to keep me in the sport so it reluctantly went by the wayside. I kept the old bike, and along with the Malvern Star I would ride it from time to time.
Even through my adult years I always had bikes from time to time, riding to and from work etc. The kids growing up took their turns being towed in the kiddies trailer behind. But gradually the bike was used less and less, and it eventually disappeared, being sold off in a garage sale. Something went missing that day. I think I lost a little of my soul.
My oldest daughter from the time she was eight, she is twelve now, hounded me about a race bike, and you wouldn't believe it, a track bike. Me passing it off as a fleeting stage ignored it or made excuses. She had a bike that she could zip around on. But as cycling was shown on TV, and especially at the Olympics, this small child would sit glued watching these elite athletes speeding along in two wheeled glory.
Eventually when she was ten I relented and started to search out some bike stores and prices. I thought it better to get a road bike and get used to that style before tackling a trackie. But still procrastinating and my daughter still harping...lol, we found the bike of choice for her, We decided on a brand new, and new to Australia, Trek KRX. It was perfect but one problem, how was she going to get practice? After all she was only ten and needed an adult to ride with her, and who would that be?
There was really only one choice, me. So at that point, I was looking for an entry level road bike that I could ride along side of her. I opted for a Trek Alpha 1.1, simple, basic and practicable.
We rode together starting off at around fifteen to sixteen kilometers most days and that eventually grew to around twenty. It was only a few weeks and we hooked up with a social club and began riding in a group on Sunday mornings. That was great for my daughter, the experience gained by riding in a bunch was wonderful. It helped and encouraged myself greatly as well. These rides were also longer as well, up around the forty-five kilometer mark.
Not long after, the store where we bought our bikes began their shop rides on Saturday morning. A few of us novices tagged along behind a couple of very patient experienced riders with my daughter in tow. We were learning to ride, yes, but something deeper was forming, friendships. Whilst the rides on a Sundays were good, something was different about our little shop rides. Eventually the stop for coffee and social engagement became longer and longer. Phone numbers were exchanged, Facebook friends were established, but above all that true friendships were forming stronger and stronger.
We talked bikes, we'd meet throughout the week at the local bike store, and we began to grow. The encouragement that I have received from these people is absolutely priceless.
It wasn't long now and the need for N+1 was biting hard. It wasn't so much the need for an extra bike, but a better one. My distances were growing, my daughter was comfortably doing fifty to sixty kilometer rides and I had started doing eighty to one hundred kilometers on a regular basis. As much as I loved, and still love, the Alpha, it was too rigid for long rides. I wanted to progress, I had gotten faster, lighter and fitter.
My new love came in the form of a Trek Domane 5.2 with Shimano Ultegra mechanical group set. It was beautiful, it was light, but most of all it was comfortable, and still is. We've done over thirteen thousand happy kilometers now, with many more planned.
Of course N+1 doesn't stop there, next in line was my Hillbrick Pista track bike
Cycling isn't an option for me anymore, its a given, a must. Its when I ride I feel free, alive, rejuvenated. Even a two hundred kilometer ride when you are absolutely smashed, there is something so exhilarating.
Even though I've grown, I've grown alongside my friends. Yes, we still ride together. Some of us have chosen to take the next step and through our mid life crisis's have decided to give racing a go. Some have fallen to the dark side and tried mountain biking...lol...But we still get together, we still find time to keep in contact and especially find precious time to ride.
Yes I still have my shiny red Alpha, yes it still gets used. At present it is my trainer and commuter. I am planning at present to turn her into a budget tourer. It will do me until I can get the moola together for a purpose built tourer. My Domane is in the process of being kept in the shed and being brought out only on race days, and has had some minor upgrades getting her ready for competition.
All in all I'm happy. No, I don't have the most expensive, I don't have the most modern components, I might not have the lightest. But I love my bikes, I love being on them and I just can't get enough of that. My wife is getting nervous, as I talk constantly about how there is no need for a car...lol. If it was up to me, I wouldn't have one. Between the bike and public transport, well one could survive.
Through all this I think it is more than apparent that I have not lost my love for riding. Things might get daunting, challenges might seem too hard and I can put too much pressure on myself. But that's all honky dory, I have my bikes.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)