The 70's Cycling Boom and the Future

May is national bike month, so it moves me to muse on bicycles, motorists, and their interactions.  Like what I suspect is pretty darn close to 100 percent of all cyclists, I am also a motorist.  But this post will not be about cyclist rights or motorist rights.  Instead I'd like to reminisce a bit about an earlier time.  I learned to ride without training wheels in 1972, and shortly after got a brand new Schwinn Stingray.  I immediately began riding it everywhere.  I wasn't unusual.  Every kid in town had a bike and also rode everywhere.  In the town of 25,000 people, there were no roads in town with more than two lanes.  There were no traffic jams of any kind.  The schools had row upon row of bike rack filled with bikes.  The entrances to the city parks were filled with bicycles, with the parks themselves filled with kids of all ages in unsupervised play. That is of course an entirely different topic.  I rode my bike in that town until I left for college.  In all of that time I don't remember a single example of car-on-bike or bike-on-car aggression.  I don't remember any controversy of any kind about whether or not cyclists should be on the road.  I don't remember any motorist ever once complaining that a cyclist was slowing him down in any way.

The 70's were one of the documented cycling booms, and it hit Austin, Minnesota with full strength.  Perhaps it's nostalgia, but something ugly has happened to this country in the ensuing 40 years.  The number of miles we drive has skyrocketed.  Our roads have become gridlocked with traffic.  Our main streets have mostly deteriorated and big box stores with 40 acre parking lots milling with herds of SUV's on the outskirts of town have taken their place.  In an attempt to accommodate all of the motor vehicles, our roads have expanded to four, six, and even eight lane boulevards.  But as soon as these boulevards are built, they immediately become gridlocked.  And so we build more, and they too become clogged.  These boulevards are ugly, loud, and unpleasant places for everybody, but especially for cyclists.  People sit in their cars, stuck behind thousands of other cars.  As a participant in our society, I have spent many many hours sitting with them in my cars.  Many of the people in those cars, for whatever reason, become absolutely unglued by the sight of a cyclist.  Not the thousands of cars jammed onto the same road they are, causing them to require 30 minutes to travel 4 miles.  No, it's the one cyclist that gets them unhinged.

At times I have despaired at these changes.  But lately, I have renewed hope that it has all only been temporary, and we are beginning to regain our senses and returning to a more civil society.  Seeing ordinary people out on bicycles lifts my spirits.

Bicycle Traffic Jams

I ride almost exclusively on the west side of Portland, out to Beaverton and the western countryside.  On one occasion, I took the family into town for an appointment on the east side on Burnside, just over the Bridge.  As I sat in the car waiting for them to come out, I was astonished at the stream riders heading up Burnside.  It the evening commute, the weather wasn't particularly nice, so these weren't mere fair weather riders.  It was a bicycle super highway of relatively fit, happy people going home from work.  Well, thanks to Nathan Farney and Gabe Graff, here are some photographs of a legitimate bike traffic jam caused by a bridge raising due to a passing ship.

Getting by with few bikes

As a father with one kid a freshman in college, and the other a freshman in high school, I'm looking at 7 more years of extreme college expenses and years of paying PLUS loans to follow.  Like many cycling enthusiasts, I yearn to have a stable of bikes, each with its own specific purpose. The way I figure it, I need 8 bicycles to meet my most basic needs.  In order of importance, these are:

1. The comfort road bike.  This bike is exemplified by the Specialized Roubaix.  For long hours in the saddle such as weekend solo rides through the countryside, this ultra light bike with a set of lightweight climbing wheels gets the job done in comfort.
2. The aero road bike.  Pioneered and best exemplified by the Cervelo S5, the aero road bike is the stiff, fast, light machine for the fast group ride on the weekends.  Grinding your friends into submission on long pulls and sprinting for town signs, the aero road bike is the tool for the job.
3. The cyclocross bike.  When fall rolls around and the road season ends, road cyclists aren't yet ready to hang up their wheels.  It's time for 'cross season.  The cyclocross bike is a drop bar road bike with beefier wheels and more wheel clearance for mud.  Also, mountain bike pedals are used instead of road pedals for quick mounting and dismounting.  I like my Norco, so here is their top end example.    
4. The time trial bike.  You may know these as triathlon bikes, these are either super dorky or super cool depending on your point of view.  The time trial bike is built for maximum speed in the individual timed effort.  Everything, including comfort takes a back seat to aerodynamic efficiency in this category.  Once again, Cervelo typifies the breed with the very successful Cervelo P3.
5. The track bike.  I gottsta have a track bike.  Riding the old ill fitting club bike simply sucks.  I'm a sprinter/jumper by genetics.  Being big and strong with fast twitch muscle means the track bike features big in my priorities.  Track bikes are fixed gear, no brakes, and with aggressive geometry once again prioritizing handling precision and speed over comfort.  A Veloforma Pista Pro seems about right to me.
6. The short trip cruiser.  Don't want to put on cycling shoes for a trip to the grocery store?  Riding around the block with the kids?  Imagine how ridiculous you would look on the time trial bike!  You would only look slightly less ridiculous on any of numbers 1 through 5.  No, you need to have the short trip cruiser.  This bike should be upright, comfortable, and with a simple platform pedal suitable for any type of shoe. 
7. The mountain bike.  OK, so even a dedicated roadie needs a mountain bike, and possibly many.  Since this is a minimal list, and not a dream list, I stick with the "cross country" bike.  These are all around machines designed for traveling long distances off road through a variety of terrain.  They are lighter weight than the purpose built down-hill bikes, for example.  At the risk of sounding like a Specialized bigot (I don't own any Specialized bikes), the classic Stumpjumper is a good example of the breed.
8. The commuter bike.  Last place?  How is it that the bike that will be ridden the most, and relied upon to get you to and from work on a daily basis be the last on the list?  The reason is really that a few of the other bikes can be made to function as a commuter.  More about that in a moment.  Bikes designed specifically for high speed, performance commuting are a relatively recent phenomenon, although they have a lot in common with the traditional touring or randonneuring bike with fenders.  The Trek Portland is an early example, though the spec was steadily dumbed down throughout its life and finally discontinued due to being insanely overpriced for the spec.  The Kona Honky Inc is a good example of a smart spec, but needs fenders and lights added after the fact to be functional as a commuter. 

I don't have 8 bikes.  So in order to do all of the cycling activities I want without owning 8 bikes, I need to make a single bike work for many purposes.  For this, it means using a standard road race bike as a daily commuter.  The first product that makes this possible is the SKS Race Blade Fenders.  These things make no noise, stay in place, and keep me dry.  Best of all, they go on and off in minutes with no hardware required.  The second thing needed is a good set of lights.  I don't have anything special for the headlight.  That's an investment I need to make.  Currently I have an el-cheapo blinking LED white light that uses AA batteries.    I'd really like to call your attention to this little guy, the Serfas TL-ST.

Made of silicon, it wraps around the seat post or seat stay and gives amazing light.  The battery is still going strong after many hours of night time flashing on my commutes.  It's minimalist, functional, efficient, and inexpensive.  Sure, the road bike sees way more dirt, grit, rain, and grime than most.  But until I hit the lottery and can buy all 8 bikes I need, the road bike has to serve many purposes.

The calf strikes again

You'd think that at my age I would have learned a few things.  I was a track athlete in college with solid coaching.  I learned about strength training and the importance of warming up, and not over doing it. But there I was, in the gym on the treadmill doing intervals.  I was with my lovely wife and we were side by side doing a minute of high intensity with a minute rest.  I was cranking the speed up a little more each time.  On the 10th or so interval, I cranked it up to 12 mph and was cruising along, enjoying how smooth and fluid I was running.  I imagined that the other people in the gym were turning to admire my graceful form.  Heart 'Magic Man' was cranked on the iPod and I could barely stifle a self satisfied smirk when....'ping'....it was my calf.  OK, maybe it didn't actually make a sound but, in my memory, I could swear there was a ping.  My calf was pulled.

I have a history of long recovery times when it comes to calf pulls or tears.  Long as in 6 months...or even a year.  It's always the right calf.  Maybe it's never recovered from the first bad tear.  As I limped at a slow walking pace on the treadmill, my wife casting worried glances my way, I suddenly found 'Magic Man' to be annoying instead of rockin'.  I turned the volume down as I struggled to let this sink in.  I'd pushed it too hard.  I wasn't ready to run that fast.  Heck, I hadn't been running much at all lately.  I'd spent all of my time on the bike getting ready for the racing season.  Now I was lame.

This came on the heals of a week of travel with no bike, followed by a week of stomach heaving, feverish sickness.  What makes this all the more difficult to deal with is that I had gotten myself in pretty good shape throughout the winter.

With the calf not making much improvement, I started riding my commute again.  Yes, it ached, but it wasn't getting worse.  At least I was getting some cardio in, and I was taking it easy.  As the day of the Estacada time trial approached, I agonized over weather or not I should race.  At the last minute, I signed up.   As I neared the start house, I downed a bottle of noticed everyone had water bottles.  So I started asking folks if it was 10 miles or 20 miles.  It turns out it was over 20!  It was 10 point something out...and another 10 point something back!!  OK, well, unwatered, I set off.  Within the first minute I knew that I had damaged the calf.  Favoring the leg, and limited by my lack of cardio fitness, I rode on, determined to finish and perform respectably.  I did end up averaging just over 19 mph.  I would have been happy with that, given the hills and the strong winds, if everyone else hadn't been so much faster.

A time trial and trials

This is me riding the Jack Frost Time trial in the Eddy Merckx class.  Picture is courtesy of Oregon Cycling Action.  It was a cold, drizzly morning, spent in the parking lot at Vancouver Lake park alternatively on the trainer, sitting in the car staying warm, or walking to the porta potty for a nervous pee.  People watching is always fun at bike races.  I particularly enjoy looking at the vehicles that people use to bring their bikes and bodies to the races.  Next time I'll get some pictures!

I had lifted weights very hard the Sunday prior to this event, which had me doing a robot walk with legs feeling like cement until the Thursday prior.  I did get some riding in on that Thursday and a little on Friday and Saturday.  Certainly not ideal preparation for the time trial.  Nonetheless, I was signed up and rode.  I was scheduled to be the very last guy out, but a Cat 1 rider on a full time trial rig ended up going after me.  Suffice it to say, I was the last one in. I didn't want to race on my fat 25c commuting gator skin tires, so I switched to an alternative set of wheels with 23c tires just before the race.  Unfortunately, I waited too long to get the magnet adjusted on the spare set of wheels so I was without speed the entire race.  I simply rode as fast as I could go, occasionally dipping over the edge such that I had to back off and recover.  The finish line also came as a surprise, partly as a result of not being able to track distance on my odo.  The result is that I had more left in the tank than I should have at the end of the race.  So while I am not real happy with my performance, I got a pretty nice picture out of the experience. The results of the race are posted on the OBRA (Oregon Bicycle Racing Association) web site. 

Christmas Eve Epic

The winter solstice has passed and, to celebrate the infinitesimally longer day, an epic (for a middle aged guy like myself) Saturday ride was in order.  An email sent out to my cycling enthusiast friends advertising spectacular wine and orchard country scenery, several categorized climbs and glorious descents yielded only two hardy souls willing to spend early Christmas Eve morning on their bicycle.

Since I was the ride leader, I selfishly chose a loop starting near my house with a starting point at Metro Perc.  So, with two cliff bars, two water bottles, wallet, and iPhone, I saddled up on the aging Trek US Postal machine and rode to the coffee shop to meet my friends.  Had they whimped out?  It was a 36 degree late December morning after all.  After two miles of soft pedaling, I arrived at the coffee shop.

The friendly folks at Metro Perc were thankfully open on Christmas Eve and, to my pleasant surprise, serving free coffee to cyclists,compliments of Sunset Cycles!  My ride buddies had not yet arrived, so I settled into an espresso machiatto and once again marveled at the creamy smoothness of Stumptown coffee.  Checking the iPhone I learned that Mark was on his way, 10 minutes late.  Paula arrived shortly with her bespoke, freshly built up MB1.  After a few moments of admiring Paula's handywork, Mark arrived with his classic, first generation Kestrel.  The group wasn't interested in free coffee, they came to ride, so we rolled out.  After a few miles, we turned right and started our ascent of Chehelam Mountain, and thus began over 20 miles of almost constant climbing.  Climbing brings views, and with a sunny, by Oregon standards, day, this ride didn't disappoint.

I chose Mountain Top Road to connect Chehelam with Bald Peak over the saddle to avoid having to climb both hills.  Mountain Top is not paved, but it's hard packed and passable by road bike.  Nonetheless, I was concerned for Mark's lightweight tires.  We made it through without a flat or a crash.  However as we connected with Bald Peak road, and the climbing didn't ease up, there were some mutinous rumblings brewing among the peloton.  We finally reached Bald Peak State Park, the summit of our climb for the day.

After that many miles of climbing, I drained my water bottle and choked down a cliff bar.  All of that elevation is lost in a very short time on the west side of Bald Peak in fast and glorious descent before a 10 mile long relatively flat roll-in to the coffee shop.  Mark had family obligations, but Paula and I enjoyed the hospitality of Sunset Cycles at Metro Perc one last time before heading back home to our respective families to celebrate Christmas.

Remembering my first (and only so far) Triathlon

It was the summer before my senior year in high school, 1985. The triathlon was enjoying huge popularity. I was a a budding biking geek, extremely proud of my Trek 560. I was working the 3-11 and night shifts at the Steer Truck stop and logging about 100 miles per day on the bike. I was riding all over the countryside, learning every back road, every farm in the area. I did a lot of my riding at night, after the swing shift was over. I'd ride from 11 PM to 2 or 3 AM. I learned to enjoy the muggy heat of Southern Minnesota nights. On those rides, I rode, stupidly in hindsight, with no lights. I rode by moonlight and starlight. There was no sound but the whirring of my chain, the clicking of gear changes, tires on the pavement, corn stalks stirring in the breeze. There were ripe smells rising from the ditches and the heat of the residual heat from the day coming off of the black top. I was in good riding shape. At 17, I felt invincible on that bike. I did no other training that summer but ride my bike.

Then, at the end of August, I entered a local triathlon. This was before Triathlons, other than the Ironman, had formal lengths. This one started with a mile or so in the water, about 46 miles on the bike, and a 10k at the end. I was a little nervous about the swimming since I'd never been a strong swimmer, and mildly worried about the fun but I knew I could gut it out. So, I showed up at the race and put my bike among the hundreds on the beach of a lake in Faribault, MN. The gun went off and we started swimming. The first thing I noticed is that it is extremely difficult to swim in a straight line across a lake. They don't, for example, paint lines on the bottom and, the water is too murky to see the bottom anyway. I would swim for a while and then look up to find out that I was swimming in the wrong direction. I would correct but again almost immediately be going the wrong direction again. I was soon all alone. It was an out and back around a floating marker, and I was the last person in the water save for an extremely old man competing in a life jacket. A canoe with course officials and a medic began tailing me, asking if I was OK. I coughed up some lakewater and managed to squeak out that I was OK, although I wasn't too sure myself. I kept reaching down with my toe to see if I could feel the bottom. Each time my hopes would rise as I stretched my toe as far as I could, only to be disappointed. I would look at the shore in the distance and consider quitting and grabbing onto the side of the hovering canoe. Finally, I reached the beach and there was my bike, all alone in the middle of the beach. I staggered and coughed out of the water, and began the bike.

Wow! I was on fire. The course was entirely north to south, and there was a slight tailwind. It was the sort of day that you dream about. I was bunny hopping double railroad tracks in a single bound. I was blowing by other riders like they were standing still. Eventually, I hooked up with another rider of similar ability and we began, against the rules, to pull for each other. With my running shoes strapped into the toe clips, and my t-shirt billowing in the wind, and my old school 80's helmet, I could not have been more happy. I reached Todd Park in Austin, MN somewhere near the front of the pack and met my friend who was there. I got off the bike and crumpled to the grass, my legs spent and unable to hold my weight. I'd taken them to complete muscle failure.

After a few minutes, I was able to stand unsteadily, and eventually walk, with my jello like legs on the verge of giving out. I wobbled and hobbled through the 10k start line and eventually managed to make a very slow jog for some periods, but was unable to ever sustain it the entire distance. Now, those that had I had passed on the bike were passing me. I eventually made it to the finish, but somewhere in the bottom third.

I don't know if I'll ever do a triathlon again. I may stick to strictly biking. If I do, I'll practice swimming in open water!