Of Redfield and Rangers

Meet Ranger Dave, my new cycling coach. Lance Armstrong has Chris Carmichael; I've got Ranger Dave.

We call him Ranger Dave because he is a bonafide National Parks Ranger on the North Rim of the Grand Canyon, and besides having an enviable job, and being kind of a bad ass, he's also a bike geek in all the best possible ways.

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This week, he stopped in town on he way from his training in the Smokey Mountains to his full-time job in the Canyon, he stopped in Des Moines to visit his family, eat some Tasty Tacos, and spend some time with his good friends: me and Carl. Dave usually visits in the winter, when the North Rim is blanketed in 8 feet of snow and the only way to get into the park is a 40-mile snowmobile ride. (They give him the winter off.) So, you can imagine my excitement when he came to visit in the summer. We had to go for a bike ride.

Here's Dave, post-ride. Apparently, when you buy the super-fancy bike, they give you the matching shorts.

According to Bike Iowa, Tuesday night is Mexican Night at the Offsides Pizza and Pub in Redfield, Iowa, so we decided to head in that direction. Unlike some cranky Coloradians I know, the prospect of a cold mid-ride beer helps motivate me.

Riding bikes with Dave was really fun. First, he's a total gentleman, so he loaded and unloaded my bike for me and put the wheel back on. Here's Dave fetching my wheel for me.

Second, he's got lots of tips. He told me the importance of filling my tires to something like 100 psi and of making sure my brakes are engaged before I start riding again: who knew? After a cyclo-cross style ride over some serious gravel behind the Menard's in West Des Moines, and then scaling a fence with our bikes, we were off. Just past Adel we got buzzed by a crop duster. It was like riding bikes in a World War 1 movie, except without the trenches, mutilation, and morphine.

Dave is mad smart, and he was full of useful information on bikes, training, re-fueling etc. While we were chatting, I mentioned that I was looking for a commuter. I want something as light and fast as my road bike, but I want it to be nice and sturdy so I don't have to worry about hammering it over the pot holes on Oralabor Drive in a mad rush not to be late to teach class. Whenever I mention the my mystical-dream-commuter, people ask why I don't just ride my road bike? I want to trick out my mystical-dream-commuter with racks, fenders, lights, and maybe a cup-holder. I don't need all that stuff on an afternoon cruise to Redfield, but I do need it when I am hauling stacks of papers to Ankeny. I want a speedy bike and a super-functional bike.

Dave, in his infinite wisdom, suggested this darling by Motobecane. Here are his thoughts:

Unfortunately, the bike I was thinking of (Ibex X-Ray) is discontinued but I found this instead: http://www.bikesdirect.com/products/motobecane/fantom_cross_cx3.htm
Check out the pics with fenders, racks etc.

Motobecane used to be a renown French brand but is now direct sale from Taiwan, where frames for Trek, Specialized etc. are made, maybe in the same factory, but certainly next door. They don't advertise or sponsor riders or teams, or have a bricks & mortar dealer network so they're way cheaper than the better known brands for the same equipment. My first road bike was a Motobecane and I was happy with it. I upgraded to my ridiculous boutique carbon frame only because I saw I was really gonna get into riding and I had the money to burn when I got a perm. job.

Something to think about - cross bikes can be said to be the best combination of road (efficiency) and mtn (stability/durability) bikes, but you could also argue that they're the worst of each - heavier/less efficient than a road bike and not suited for much beyond dirt/gravel roads.

Don't go cheaper, but if you have more to spend let me know and I'll revise. You'll get a lighter bike with better components for more $.

RD

So, dedicated readers and bike-geeks all, thoughts or suggestions for the future magical-dream commuter?

When we were done with our ride, he made me a chocolate milk. What a sweet heart. We can all use a little coaching, someone to offer some helpful suggestions (Motobecane!), yell a little bit (pedal faster not harder), and offer an array of delicious beverages.

Stevie, Time to Leavie...You in the Dust!

Last week, my pal Steven (also known as Panda) challenged me to the RAGBRAI Royalty Challenge. This fitness challenge requires a commitment of working out at least five times a week, and losing at least 4% of our body weight. Weeks start on Sunday and will come to a conclusion the Saturday night we meet in Sioux City, Iowa for the start of RAGBRAI: July 24th.

The winner get glory, and will look significantly better in her bike shorts. The loser will have to put up the tent of the winner for at least 3 nights of RAGBRAI and is also required to buy the first beer in each beer-stop town along the ride for two days. The loser will also face a heartbreaking amount of mocking and torment.

Steven, being just a bit of a nerd has worked out a complicated system of rules for the challenge. Here are her comments in full:

Dearest Norman:

Here are the proposed rules:

1. Each participant must engage (sounds dirty) in at least a 30 minute workout on 5 days of the week. I think it needs to be us using our judgment on what counts as a workout. For instance, for me, I think a hike does not count...but, if I jog parts of the hike and sweat like a maniac...then maybe it does. :) Also, biking always counts, but must be a minimum of 15 miles to be considered a workout (round trip if commuting). All weeks go from Sunday to Saturday.

2. Each participant must lose at least 4% of her body weight. This means that there new weight should be (at max) 0.96 * current weight.

3. The winner is determined using the following point scale: A) 1 point for every separate workout completed during the 4 weeks (this means that you should have a minimum of 20 points...but could earn extra with 2-a-days or by working out on "off" days) B) 3 points for every percent of weight loss (this means that you should have a min. of 12 points...but could earn extra by losing more) C) Tie breakers will be decided by whoever can shotgun a can of Keystone Light beer the fastest

4. All workouts must be documented on the blog. This doesn't mean that you have to have a separate post for each workout...you could just do a "summary" post at the end of the week. Okay, now...you must print this and sign it in blood. Heh. Just kidding! Anyway, I hope moving has gone well and I also hope that you get your butt moving...because I am going to kick your ass. That is all. Love, Stevie P.S. Stevie...it's time to Leavie!

Unfortunately for Steven, complicated math doesn't burn calories.

Here's my video response to Steven's throw down (what I lack in fancy editing, I make up for in my subtle acting abilities):



Now, prepare thyselves beloved blogophiles because this is going to be one hot, sweaty, and caloric-deficit July.

A Breath of Fresh Air

My dream of the perfect RAGBRAI training regime is completely off track. My back up dream of at least riding my bike a little every day until the start of RAGBRAI is also, sadly, off track. My bike has been getting plenty of miles, but most of them have come from riding around in the trunk of my car.

I've got a mountain of essays to grade, a deadline looming, dear friends languishing in Camp Break-up, and the White Tiger and I are in the middle of moving which involves equal amounts of packing, cleaning, and bickering. On Tuesday, I needed a break. I put my should-dos on the shelf and pulled the bike out of the back of my Mazda.

Unless I put paddles on my bike, I wouldn't be riding Neil Smith trail, which is at the bottom of the murky drink due to the flooding of the mighty Des Moines, so I decided to try the rails to trail that goes from Ankeny (where I work) to Slater.

Several colleagues had warned me that the trail was a little boring, lots of fields and agriculture and not at all shaded. Several other colleagues offered little groans of sympathy for the temperature was topping out at near 90 degrees. My friend Panda had recommended I take some rides in the heat of the day to prepare for RABGRAI, so I was pretty pleased with myself for setting out under the full sun.

The trail was glorious, nothing but flat, smooth as butter, hot, baking pavement for as far as the eye could see. And, as the trail crossed lots of highways and county roads, I got plenty of clipping in and out practice (I am getting better). Ankeny to Slater from is about 13 miles, but, when I got to Slater, and I noticed the trail kept going, I decided to press on until I got to 15 miles. Then, when I got to 15, road fever kicked in and I decided to make it to 20 miles.

When I made it Madrid, I paused for a halfway break under a bridge. I know I am prone to hyperbole, but I was literally, the sweatiest I have ever been, and I did feel a little guilty. The White Tiger was at our new house dutifully cleaning and organizing and packing and unpacking, and I was out gallivanting around the countryside on my bike. I have so much to do, and here I was spending 2 hours and 45 minutes on a bike ride.

But it was a wonderful bike ride, and at the end I felt hot, and tired, and fabulous. When I got to the house, the White Tiger wasn't even upset. The beer and pizza tasted better than they would have otherwise, and I realized what my friends have been telling me, all that stuff will get done. The packing and moving and grading and cleaning and possibly even the bickering will get done, eventually. And, I realized if I take time for myself, just a bit each and every day, those worrisome things will be a lot more manageable and pleasant.

Unforseen Hazard: Anhydrous Ammonia. There I was, just huffing and puffing past the co-op outside of Slater, when I hear an evil hiss. Then I was gasping and choking and my lungs were burning. (For a dramatic recreation, see image above.) One of the Anhydrous Ammonia tanks was leaking and the fumes were blowing right into the bike trail. Of all the worries I have about bike rides, asphyxiation hadn't been one of them.

Trainer Trouble

There's no point in lying to your personal trainer, so don't even try. There's no point in fudging the numbers about how often you've been to the gym, or trying to deny that pound of fudge: the trainer will always find out. Since I last saw Gwyn, she was training for the Hy-Vee triathlon (which I am pretty sure she won), and I was eating things I shouldn't, in quantities that I shouldn't, staying out too late, and skipping workouts, and generally behaving like a fitness slacker. I have all kinds of requisite excuses (I was sick! We are moving! It's rainy!), but excuses don't burn calories.

So, bearing my reemerging muffing top none-too-proudly, I returned to my training. Gwyn, of course, was gracious and charming, and she put me through my lower body weight lifting training plan. For some reason, the weights always feel heavier when Gwyn is watching and counting, and while I shuffled up and down off the stair step, I confessed my bad behavior to Gwyn. Understanding as always, Gwyn focused on figuring out a plan that would work for me.

Now, after my workouts, I have to text her and tell her what I did. It feels pretty remedial, after all the work I put in last spring, but apparently it works. Today, I killed 45 minutes on the elliptical trainer, then rocked my upper body, and did some ab-work, all of which I happily reported to Gwyn. Her response: "looking fwd to hearing about tomorrow!" And, tomorrow, no matter how sleepy I am after a long night class, I am going to get myself out of bed and into the YMCA. Same goes for Saturday, and Sunday, and every day after that: I've got homework.

Forbes.com makes a case for applying the Meyer's Briggs personality test to your fitness goals. I'm not sure if this works for me. I am a competitor for sure, but I hate tennis. I am a social butterfly, but I hate chatting at the gym. Maybe I am best motivated in a student role. Give me an assignment, and I will do it. Perhaps knowing that I have to report back on my homework will keep me moving. The kind motivation I felt during the challenge still eludes me, but being in trouble with my trainer might just the be clue I need to help me find it.

Hip Update: after about a week off of workouts, the hip was feeling great. Now, that I am back in the gym, it is stiff and limp-inducing again. Anyone know a good sports medicine doctor?

Look Mom, No Bodily Injury!

The true mark of being a super-cool cyclist wasn't my ride, and it wasn't my spandex tan line, it was my bike shoes. The super-cool cyclists are the ones that swagger into the bar or the spin class with that up-toe clickety swagger that comes from wearing bike cleats. I couldn't wait to get a pair.

I got myself a pair of Pearl Izumi Race RD, mostly because they looked cool, I got a good deal, and I didn't know what else to get. Then I went down to Modern Bike, my friend Andy's bike store on Euclid (east side!) and got some cleats. I found the 4mm Allen wrench and the promptly let the whole shebang sit on top of the microwave for about 3 weeks.

Everyone, and I mean everyone, told me I would crash when I tried to clip in. Or, they told me about their crashes. Or the sent me links to websites with ridiculous crashes. Or, they told me to go practice in a parking lot like a 14-year-old drivers ed student, but then I would still crash. I had crashing on the brain. And, I wanted to keep crashing away from my brain. As brave as I try to be, I am easily intimidated, especially when that intimidation comes in the form of dental damage.

Finally, finally, after many, many self-pep talks, I got up to the courage to strap on those bright white babies and I hit the road. Problem one: clipping in is harder than it looks. I don't clip in a flash. I clip in like the beery-sweaty messes I see leaving AK O'Connors, whose clips sound like shot in the night and genuinely seem to surprise the cyclist.

Problem two: fear. I practiced clipping out. It didn't seem like a problem at all. The real issue was being scared of forgetting to clip out, being scared of deer dashing out on the trail, fear of jacking up my knees through mis-clip placement, fear of sudden stops, big bumps, railroad tracks, rainstorms, raccoons, etc. All of the things that would normally made me nervous, filled me with fright knowing I couldn't jump off my bike like a squirrel on a live-wire.

But, I made it. I rode all the way up to DMACC, mostly clipped in, nearly never crying, and without crashing. I almost crashed, but an almost crash is not a crash. And, I made it home. And, I made it up to Big Creek and back, all without tragic bodily injury.

And, the benefits are amazing. Being clipped not only makes me cool and gives me some bike-street cred on the trail, but it also helps me go super fast. I love the new efficiency.

As for the crashing, I am trying to resign myself to the possibility. When I bicycle commuted in New Orleans, I just accepted the fact that it wasn't IF a car hit me, it was when. I am trying to gain that same sort of zen when it comes to clipping in. Until then, feeling really cool will have to suffice.