The End of a Beautiful January

Early this month, I decided to join a Strava challenge to attempt to get as many miles as possible for transportation and joy purposes before the end of January. It was a rough start here in Colorado for the new year as we were in negative Fahrenheit temperatures for the first week and a half or so. In short, it sucked. I saw the occasional person out on a bicycle or walking, but they were few and far between. The cold also coincided with snow, which turned to ice and because I am the biggest ice-wimp on the planet, I lost out on several days of riding. I had a goal at the start of this which was to complete at least 600 km. If you read my first post, my math was incredibly incorrect (thank you, U.S. education system) and my initial proclamation that it was about 311 miles was wrong. Six hundred kilometers is actually approximately 373 miles. If my conversions skills weren't so poor, perhaps I wouldn't have even thought of trying to go after this goal, but since I am apparently impaired when it comes to converting kilometers to miles, I stupidly thought it was possible.

As the month moved along, we had a few day streak of warm weather. Really. It was actually warm (or at least warm for winter), with some days getting in to the low-to-mid 60°F temps. People were wearing shorts (though some do this even when it's in the teens), children were out playing and laughing, and I almost would've believed we were closing in on the spring/summer transition period. The ice pretty much melted away (pretty much), and I was a happy winter rider out enjoying (at least for a few days) what should've been a very cold month. Then more snow. It took a few days for that round to melt off, but then I was back out in the thick of things. Now, at the end of the month, we've gone back into a snow round, and I've seen the last of my January riding. The worst part is that my last ride was only 3 miles. Three. Measly. Miles.

Ugh.

If only I could go back and tell past G.E. to keep riding that day - but, alas, I cannot. Thus, I am stuck with the numbers that stopped accumulating almost a week ago now. On the up side, I think I did more than I would've thought possible, considering I really only had about two weeks of riding in the 31 days this month. I knew going into this challenge that it would be - well, a challenge - but because I am a fool who wants to believe that anything is possible, I went ahead and tried to go after something that I should've known really wouldn't be possible. In the end, I traveled 327 km (if my math is correct this time, that's about 203 miles) - which for me, is the most miles I've accomplished on a bicycle in January.

That's the bad news - that I didn't accomplish my mileage goal. The good news is, I learned a lot about myself during the month and I don't think I would trade that for anything. It's difficult to explain the experiences I have on a bicycle sometimes. It's so easy for me to get lost in thought, particularly when I'm out roaming back roads and don't worry as much about motorized traffic. Sometimes, there are just small moments that I'm grateful to have experienced first hand. Other times, I have great epiphanies about life. Still other moments find me deep in a sea of tears, trying to make sense out of some predicament that never seems to get resolved. I often wonder how I went so many years not riding a bicycle. I've realized that riding has provided such a huge emotional release, a happy place to be, and sure - even a bit of exercise if I really want to use the bike in that fashion.

I was not as diligent about taking photos as I should have been (because I saw a lot of great things), but if you'd like a small glimpse of just some of what I was able to take in, please feel free to watch the slide show below.

(In case that isn't working - as some have informed me - here's a direct link to the video. Warning: If you're at work, there is sound. Also, this slideshow is deceptive in that it looks like I live in the middle of nowhere, but those just happened to be the places I stopped to take pictures when I was out. My apologies.)

I have a new appreciation of folks who continue to ride through the snow and ice. The snow actually isn't so bad (to me), but the ice is a game changer for my riding for sure. I am grateful to live within walking distance of a lot of different things because I know that if I wasn't, when those icy days are here it would be all too easy to opt for a car instead. I don't necessarily have anything against the car itself, but it's so much more enjoyable to be out transporting myself under my own power - in whatever form that comes.

I know there were others participating in new year or winter riding challenges. How did (are) things go(ing) for you? I think for me, this January was a great start to what I hope will be a great 2014. I look forward to continuing to be outdoors throughout the winter months and enjoying the season in all its vast unpredictability.

Re-Learning What I Thought I Knew: I CAN Ride Drop Bars!

In the summer of 2009, my darling Sam picked up a road bike for me from a Craigslist ad. At the time, I had been riding upright/city style bikes and enjoying my slow pace around town. When I started daydreaming about long rides for exercise, touring, and so on, Sam decided to take matters into his own hands and found me a mid-70s Raleigh Super Course to try out, rather than spending hundreds or even thousands on something that, potentially, I may not have ever touched. When he brought it home my initial reaction was split: I was thrilled at the opportunity to ride a road bike (I hadn't been on one since childhood), but I was terrified of the position on the bike and the handlebars. Surprisingly, things went pretty well... except, that is, for the drop bars.

The bike was large for me, so we chucked it up to sizing issues and moved on down the road to the next choice. Even though the bike that followed was sized properly for me, I just couldn't seem to make any kind of drop bar work. I tried a variety of them, but every time I would be in so much pain, that I'd end up not riding for a week or more. I had tried classic style (code: old) drop bars, noodle bars, randonneur bars, but nothing seemed to help me find a position that worked. Ultimately, I gave up on the idea and just started looking for an alternative. The one that worked best for me was the albatross handlebar, and so, for the last couple of years, that has been my go-to choice for any bicycle - even road bikes. I've done just fine with them and travelled well enough that I came to the realization that every bike I'd ever own would have these bars. I even have a "spare" set -"just in case." Sick, I know.

The "usual" bicycle for long or organized rides

Still, I couldn't help but have some drop bar envy when I'd see folks pedaling by. In reality, there are simply more hand positions on this type of handlebar, and knowing that I do have hand/wrist issues to contend with, I stubbornly kept trying to make some kind of drop bar work for me. After each attempt and subsequent failure, I would return the set up to the albatross bar and let out a huge sigh. "I guess this is just what I'm destined to ride," I'd constantly try to reassure myself. I had switched out the handlebars on the newer Homer bicycle at least half a dozen times, convinced that I could make the drop bars happen. With my last attempt I told Sam, "Let's just put them on and leave them for an extended period of time and see what happens. I'll start riding them on short trips and just see if it's all in my head, or if there's some possible way to make these work." And so, we did. We set up the Homer with the randonneur bars, and I figured I'd slowly allow myself to try them out without the pressure of having to do a long distance ride.

Ah, but fate had other plans. The evening before my recent Venus de Miles ride, we had an incident with the Hillborne which left me without a saddle/seatpost. As we desperately tried to figure out how to resolve the problem so late on the eve prior to the ride, Sam and I looked at each other already knowing what this meant: I'd be riding the dreaded drop bars on an unfamiliar bike for the 51 mile ride the following morning.

"I'm a big girl," I said, trying to reassure the slightly-flustered Sam that I would manage this on a bike I wasn't completely used to riding. "It will all be okay, I promise." After having joked just days prior that this would happen, I honestly didn't expect it to actually be coming about (talk about speaking things into existence). Frankly, I was terrified that I would get 10-15 miles in to the ride and not be able to finish because of hand pain, but I wasn't about to worry Sam with such thoughts. We took a few minutes and did our best to get the Homer set up in a manner that would keep me as comfortable as possible, and while doing so, the handlebar stem was dropped significantly lower than it had been. I took it for a quick ride down the street and said, "Well, I think it's as good as it's going to get with the time we have."

In the morning, we agreed that Sam would come out and meet me at or near the first refill station/rest stop in case there were any problems.  When he arrived to meet up about 11 miles into the ride, I was doing great. "My hands don't hurt at all," I proclaimed with glee. "We'll see what happens as time wears on, but I'm really doing fine." We were both in a bit of shock knowing my history with this type of handlebar, but I wasn't going to fight it. We decided to meet up again close to the half way point, and off I went to continue the ride.

To make a long story short(er), I made it to the end of the ride (including the ride to and from the starting/ending point) and I wasn't dying or in extreme pain. There was a bit of fatigue, though that was to be expected as it was a longer distance than I typically ride, but I survived and even rode again the following day and rest of the week.

Perplexed by all of this, we attempted to figure out what had changed about the set up, but the only item we could definitively point to was the act of lowering the handlebar stem. While this had always seemed counter-intuitive to me (to lower the stem, thus putting greater pressure on my hands), it actually had the opposite effect. Rather than making the ride more painful, it actually made it easier and more pleasant. When I rode, I used my core muscles more frequently, which kept a great deal of the weight off of my hands. The stem is still high by roadie standards (it currently sits just a tad higher than the saddle), but lowering it seems to have solved the problems I was experiencing with drop bars in the past. The lesson? I'm not entirely sure, but I believe continuing to experiment and try different ways of setting up a bike is important. I may have driven poor Sam absolutely batty with my constant requests to change handlebars, stems, etc, but in the end, I think we've managed to find a way to make this set up work.

Training Rides Will be the Death of Me

As the day of reckoning closes in on me, I've done my best to get in as many training rides as I can for Venus de Miles. On the most recent ride, I decided that I should find the nearest, uphill ride I could complete in about 2 hours. Locals often take off up Nelson Road, so I figured it was worth a try. Before I had started, I was well advised and versed in the stories of this road. Sam has even moaned more than once about the "false flats" and even "false downhills" on that road. Many times I've taken Nelson to 75th and travelled north into what is known as Hygiene, but never have I actually taken the bike to the edge of the mountains at Foothills Hwy. Little did I know what awaited me.

*Image from Google
Though difficult to see here, the "A" marks an approximate half way point from Hover to Foothills Highway

I decided to leave from kickboxing and head out. By the time I actually reached Nelson Road, I was already feeling the exhaustion (this is what happens when one goes to a class and then decides to go for a "training ride"). I could feel myself slowing down, but I expected this to take place because although the road looks flat, it is definitely uphill when heading west.  I shifted and let myself spin (something I rarely do). I'm trying to save my knees which haven't been doing great the last few weeks, so I figured I was in no hurry and would just take it as it came to me. As I looked ahead, I could see a nice downhill area coming. I was excited that I wouldn't be climbing for a bit, and couldn't help but think, "What are all these people talking about?"

As if experiencing some kind of karmic joke for even thinking such a thought, my pedaling slowed even more. I seriously thought that perhaps I had a flat, and kept trying to check out the rear tire while continuing to move forward. Everything looked fine though, so I just kept pedaling. "Ahh, this must be the false downhill everyone talks about," I thought to myself. I continued on... pedaling... pedaling... slower pedaling... and even slower pedaling. "It must level out at some point," I muttered to myself, but the uphill just kept coming.

Stopping so as to not kill myself. As you can see, there was still more climbing to do.

Finally, I had to stop. My hands were killing me and I was thirsty, so I pulled over and just stood in the heat. I debated whether or not to just turn around and head home, but I felt as though I just had to get to the end of this, if for no other reason than to experience it for myself.

Despite the skies looking foggy, this is actually smoke that has arrived from fires in Idaho and Montana.
Looking east at the climb to my stopping point... for the record the part that looks like it's down hill, really isn't.

As I got back on the bike and started pedaling, I wondered why I was doing this to myself, but still I kept going. Other cyclists came whizzing past me. In those moments, I understood the benefits of a 15 pound, carbon road bike, certainly. Here I was, climbing up the hills at about 5-8 mph on my approximately 40 pound steel bike (with all my stuff in the saddle bag). I'm sure I looked ridiculous to them, but I figure to each his/her own. Everyone was cordial and polite, so perhaps they just thought I was lost... or they thought I was an absolute moron.

As I continued to ride, I couldn't help but wonder when it would end. Finally, I just couldn't see the highway getting any closer, and decided that I needed to turn around and head back so that I could actually get work done. I was a bit bummed because I wanted to experience the entire length of the road (and I regretted it even more when I got home and realized I was about 3/4 of a mile from the end of Nelson). The downhill back was A-MA-ZING! I rolled down at about 35 mph, and actually scared myself a bit at how fast I was travelling.

All in all, the rides are coming along, but I have to admit that I wish I had more time to train. Every time I complete a ride, I realize that I should've started this much earlier. I am doing my best with the time I have though, and hopefully that will be enough. I only have a few more rides to get in before the big day, but I remain hopeful that I can finish when the time arrives. Anyone else preparing for an organized ride/race in the near future? How do you prepare?

Painting the Sam Hillborne: Color Suggestions?

The topic of bicycle color has definitely come up here prior to today, but I am currently debating colors to paint the Sam Hillborne, so it has become more personal at the moment. When I bought the frame, I was having trouble finding one in a small enough size to fit me, and the one partner of Rivendell who had the appropriate sized frame had already built it up as a bike.  The owner of the shop indicated that it would probably save me money to just purchase the whole bike from him, but I can be stubborn and had dreams of picking everything out for myself, so I declined his offer. He warned that the frame would likely have paint chips around eyelets and such due to removal of racks, etc. I assured him that it wasn't an issue, and regardless of whether I had purchased the bike whole or not, it would have needed to be disassembled for shipment, so I can't very well blame my stubbornness for the paint chipping off the bike.

There is a very small chip in the paint on the seat tube in this picture, however,
most of the major ones seem to be on the alternate side of the Hillborne.

When the frame arrived, there were indeed many paint chips on eyelets from removal of the prior parts, however, I knew that they would be covered for the most part by items I would be attaching. I had actually inquired about touch up paint from Riv, but that was not a possibility. Unfortunately, the paint on the rest of the frame soon began flaking off on its own (I don't know if this was merely a fluke with this bike's paint - others have said they've had no problems with theirs, and I've had no issues with the Betty thus far). For the first several months of ownership I didn't let anyone near this bike, I babied it as though it were a - well, baby - and never did anything harsh or abusive to the frame (not that I abuse it now, but I'm less fanatical around the bike as I realize it is still just a bike - regardless of what I may want to believe - you know, that it has mystical powers, makes me look better, etc).  At this point, there are several places that the paint has come off that are visible on the frame (some of them quite large), and since it is steel, I don't want it to get to the point that it begins to rust. Not to mention, I was never particularly in love with the color of this bike, so it seems a good time to start thinking about color change. In some ways I am happy that it needs paint because I can justify changing the color sooner than seems reasonable, but it's actually created quite a dilemma.

I thought that I knew the color that I wanted to paint the bike - I've had it picked out in my mind for over a year now - but as I think about it more and look at color options, I can see things going in two ways. First option: keep things more muted, classic, and understated (this was the original idea), or (second option) perhaps it is better to try out something bright? In some sense, I find that I'm more visible because of the orange color (even when there isn't as much light out), so perhaps going brighter makes more sense?

RAL 4009 - A lavender/gray-ish color to keep it looking classic

I tend to be drawn to very brightly colored bikes, but I appreciate the subtly in more muted colors as well. It's a little disturbing to be drawn to such different colors... but it's fun to think about what the Hillborne would look like with each of the different possibilities.

RAL 1016 - Maybe bright yellow is the way to go?

There are so many options to choose from that I find it difficult to make a decision, so I know I will hold off until I'm certain of the direction I want to go. But, when you have a chart of colors to pick from, it's difficult to narrow things down it seems.

RAL color chart - so many colors!

I find that I am fond of many different options, but I'm curious, if you were going to paint your bike, what color would you choose? Do you prefer the more muted tones, or would you opt for a brighter option? And, of course, if you'd like to offer suggestions for the Hillborne specifically, I'm all ears... err, uh, eyes.

{Part 1} Rivendell Betty vs Sam: Decisions, Decisions

In early summer last year, regular readers will recall that I was toying with the idea of picking up a Rivendell Betty Foy frame and slowly building it up, in addition to my Sam Hillborne. When I mentioned this, I received a variety of reactions, including those who couldn't understand why I would choose to purchase a bike that is supposed to function so similarly to the Hillborne. While on one hand I completely agreed with those folks, and had to admit I did feel a little ridiculous even thinking about the idea, on the other I did see the benefits of having two distinct bikes for different purposes. Although I knew that their functionality could, and likely would overlap, I still found myself thinking that the Betty could be an ideal option. I like Rivendell's geometry, and more importantly have found it to be comfortable for me - allowing me to ride longer distances, so while there are alternate options that could be explored, the Betty just seemed to be one that would potentially have a positive end result.

Sam (hubby, not bicycle) is not a huge fan of Rivendell for a variety of reasons, and while I won't go into details regarding his feelings, suffice it to say he does see the quality in the frames, but also believes them to be over-hyped. He appreciates that I love my Hillborne, but would likely never buy one for himself unless it was found on severe discount somewhere. When I brought up the idea of buying a Betty, I was surprised that he was open to the idea, but at the time I simply let it go because as much as it seemed ideal, I wasn't ready to commit, and wasn't entirely sure what I wanted to do.

Soon after this conversation, I started a major hunt for a city bike. I went through a few, but never quite found the perfect one. Part of my issue, I'm fairly certain now, is that I've grown used to having a little more speed and a bit lighter bike while riding the Hillborne (and formerly the Pacer). When we picked up a Soma Buena Vista frame several months ago, I thought it would be the perfect solution. Because of a variety of happenings (the largest of which was buying a frame that was too small), I knew that the hunt was going to continue.

One afternoon while I was pondering what to do with the Soma, I remembered my thoughts about picking up a Betty Foy. Coincidentally during this thought, I also received an email from Rivendell stating that the new Betty's were available and they were offering some incentives to purchasers. Perhaps it was the right time for this project? At first, I talked myself out of it, but the more I thought about it, I realized that one of three things would likely happen.
1) I would fall in love with the Betty Foy and realize that it functions exactly the same as the Sam Hillborne, and would subsequently end up selling the Hillborne to prevent duplicate bicycles.
2) I wouldn't like the Betty at all, and would sell the frame to attempt to recover most of the funds spent.
3) I would discover that the two bikes have completely different but functional purposes for me, and decide to keep them both.

At first, even the idea of selling the Hillborne sent my heart pounding. Could I really sell a bike I love so much if the unthinkable happened? I've pictured myself on more than one occasion riding the Hillborne 20-30 years from now. It's been the constant I've needed in the bike fold, and beyond any of my daydreams, I'm simply attached to him. However, willing to at least consider the possible outcome of any of the scenarios above, I went for the purchase of the Betty frame.

Whatever thoughts run through your head as a reader, believe me when I say similar ideas ran through mine as well. Everything from questioning whether another fairly pricey bike is the answer, to wondering whether I actually need a more step through bicycle ran rampant in my thoughts. When she arrived, however, I was truly ecstatic about the Betty and couldn't wait to pull the frame out of the box. Gorgeous doesn't even begin to describe her, and while definitely a girlie themed bike (and not being horribly drawn to the girlie-girl items myself), I was nonetheless enchanted by all the hearts and beautiful lug work. Perhaps a bit overkill on the heart theme, I still found her to be quite delightful, and was looking forward to eventually building her into a proper bicycle... eventually being the key word.

Grand Bois Hetre Tires Quick Review and Thoughts on Longevity

One of my favorite parts on the Hillborne are the Grand Bois Hetre tires selected for the bike. They make for a cushy but quick ride, and I don't feel every little crack, bump, dip, etc in the road. Initially, I wanted these tires because they were the only cream/white tires I could find in a 650b size tire (I'm sure this is still likely the case), but I have learned to love that they are incredibly comfortable to ride on as well. What I have noticed that I am not as pleased with is that the tires are coming apart fairly early on in their life. Although I have physically had the tires for almost two years, the ride distance they've actually experienced has been no more than 600 miles (between switching out tires, and so on) - seemingly, this would be a point I would expect to just begin to see a break in, not a break down.

Although pictures are not necessarily easy to obtain of the damage sustained thus far, I think it is possible to see that they are wearing oddly. Not only are there spaces and changes in between the tread, but they are also bulging/bowing in some places around the tire. For a $125+ set of tires, I expected they would last at least a couple thousand miles, if not more. I don't ride over very rough terrain, and with the exception of one ride since I've owned the bike it has only been ridden on pavement or asphalt.

Warping has been taking place on these tires since very early on

While these tires aren't known for their puncture protection (which I was aware of when purchasing), I have actually found them to be pretty solid. I've had a total of two punctures: one that took place on a long ride, but was a slow leak that I didn't have to deal with until I got home, and the second one happened when I got a goat head on a paved trail, and again didn't lose air until I was home to deal with it. Not bad for tires not known to prevent flats, I think.

Certainly, I am not a tire expert, and perhaps I am expecting too much of these tires, but I am disappointed that they haven't held up better. Will I buy them again? Probably.  I have simply fallen in love with the ride quality, and I honestly hope that I just happened to get a blem in the group because I know others who have had no issue with the tires. I would recommend them to others, but with the caveat that they may not last as long as might be expected. I bought them locally for the first round, but perhaps I need to try another location the next time? Regardless, having the cushy ride is worth trying them again, and I hope that they are able to sustain a longer life in the next round - whenever that may be. For now, I continue to ride on them, hoping that they don't completely fall apart too quickly.

If Loving You is Wrong, I Don't Want to be Right

{In my continuing theme of putting songs into everyone's heads}

I have recently found myself struggling with my love of the Hillborne - well, not my love of the bike itself, but the fact that I will choose him almost always over others. I have started to wonder 1) if I should have multiple bikes if I'm going to opt for him on most rides, and 2) if I have created this situation because I choose him most often when going for a ride (long or short).

About two weeks ago, I took the Surly out from the moth balls forming around him after storing him through the winter. Our first ride out together was only a few miles, but I just couldn't find comfort. I struggled through the initial ride, but couldn't grasp why I was so ill-at-ease while riding the Pacer when I had enjoyed him so much just a few months ago. What's changed? The conclusion I could come up with (as mentioned above) was that I have simply grown used to the set up on the Hillborne. I wish it were that simple for me to justify to myself, but it bothers me to some extent that I am so particular about bikes, and that I've had such a level of comfort change in a relatively short amount of time.

A few months ago, we removed the fenders, rear rack and large saddle bag from the Hillborne which lightened the load more than 10 lbs. I am aware that the majority of that weight came in the form of all of the random things I put in the larger-than-necessary saddle bag on the rear of the bike, but I was amazed at how much lighter it felt. After these changes, the weight difference between the Hillborne and the Pacer was negligible, and I found myself able to keep the same speeds on either bike. Sam and I began discussing the possibility of selling off the Pacer because I really don't want to have bikes that I'm not using.

The middle ground that we have reached is that Sam has decided to pick and choose parts to exchange on his Bianchi that were more worn out, and we are talking with a friend who is looking to build up a road bike... and so, it appears as though the Pacer may be on his way out of the house, at least in part. When I end up selling off a bike I haven't had for very long, I cannot help but feel a little sad, and a bit guilty - but of course, I don't feel great about housing bikes that aren't used either, so it always poses a dilemma for me. Do I keep it and hope that I'll find a renewed interest/comfort/etc, or do I simply set it free? I will say that having the Pacer helped me realize what I needed/wanted in a bicycle. It has helped me hone in on what makes riding enjoyable for me, and also helped me see that an increase in choices doesn't necessarily make riding better, more exciting, or speedier (necessarily). Will the Hillborne be the only bike? Unlikely. But, it is great to know that the right fit can be found, even for a persnickety individual like myself.

Have you found yourself confused about changing opinions about a particular bike you've owned (either for the good or bad)? Did/do you typically try to make changes to a bike you own, or look for a better fit on a different bike when things don't seem to be working out?

The Albatross Handlebar

Over the past several months, I've had a few individuals contact me with various questions about the handlebars on the Sam Hillborne, so I thought perhaps a post was in order. I did write about them briefly when changes were made several months ago, but because I've had time to ride with them now, I feel a little better equipped to evaluate how they are working for me. The most common inquiry asks if they are Nitto Mustache handlebars. To put this misconception to rest, they are not. I did briefly try mustache bars, but found the stretch on a bike that's bordering on being too large for me was just too much. The handlebars are in fact Nitto Albatross bars. Before I get into it too much, if you are looking for these particular handlebars, I would advise doing some research for the lowest cost. Depending on your preference for aluminum or chromoly, I've seen price differences of up to $45 (just on new handlebars - I imagine it would be even greater on used), so there is some savings to be had if you look around.

I believe the reason that these handlebars are mistaken for mustache bars on the Hillborne is because they are mounted unconventionally (or upside down), which gives them more of a similar look to the mustache bars. Why did I do this? Well, I really didn't want to ride in a position so upright that I felt like I was on more of a city-type bicycle. I wanted to use this as a long-distance bicycle, and while the bars aren't that much lower turned upside down, I do think it provides enough that I get some lean into the handlebars. I'm sure they would work just fine mounted as intended though. Of course, these feel nothing like a drop bar on a bicycle, so the rider should be prepared for a completely different feel. While I wouldn't recommend them for those looking for extreme aerodynamics, if you're looking for an alternative that places you in a manner to see the road from a more upright position, these could do the trick.

I should point out that if your bike requires a 26.0 handlebar, from what I've found, these bars come only in a 25.4 size, which will require the purchase of a shim to make up the size difference. I have these handlebars on two bikes (the Hillborne and the Surly) which both take 26.0 bars. On the Surly, the shim was needed to make the handlebars secure, however, the Hillborne was barely able to squeeze the bars in to the stem. I don't know if it's the difference in stem types, or if I just happened to get a handlebar that was a bit larger, but I was warned that it isn't safe to ride without the shim because of the size difference, so I pass along the same to you.

One potential hazard of note is the length of the side portion of the bars. I have found that mounting these bars upside down has created a bit of a problem with "thigh strike." If I am trying to make a turn and the leg in the direction I am turning is in the up position, there is often an issue with the bar hitting my thigh making it difficult (sometimes impossible) to complete tight turns. It's particularly bothersome on this bike because it has bar end shifters and I often unintentionally move the shifters while turning. Perhaps this would be less of an issue for riders who 1) have bigger bikes, and 2) have less substantial thighs, but I suspect regardless of these two possibilities there could be an issue for other riders as well. We did remove a good portion of the end of the handlebar to help with this problem, but in reality I still need to take another inch to inch and a half off to avoid the problem completely. I don't really want to remove the handlebar tape again, so it has stopped me for the time being from doing what needs to be done. However, it is a bit unnerving when trying to take a tight turn, so I find I get off of the bike and remount after the turn to avoid any potential for a crash.

The albatross handlebars work well for both city riding and longer distances. I haven't done a tour with these handlebars, but for me I am relieved to have a position that allows my hands to be comfortable and change positions without needing the drop bars. I enjoy the positioning so much that I opted to do the same for the Surly Pacer. I haven't regretted the switch, so I do think it's possible for these handlebars to work on a variety of bikes since the Pacer has a bit more of a compact feel than the Hillborne. I will note that I don't have the same problem with "thigh strike" on the Pacer, however, we did need to remove a portion of the ends on this bike as well.  It could also be that the shifters are a part of the brake levers on this bike, or that it just has a different geometry.

Ultimately, these handlebars work for me, but hopefully this is beneficial to anyone else looking for a switch. I don't dislike drop bars, but personally I found it difficult to utilize each of the places for my hands because of the sizing on the Hillborne. For me, it was about finding comfort over long distances, and these albatross bars seem to have done the trick.

Quick Ride on a Wednesday

Today, I was pretty much testing out the bike/camera equipment to see how things would play out. I couldn't stand being cooped up in the house any longer, so I went for a fairly short ride... nothing horribly exciting to report from the ride, but I did want to see how shaky the pics would be.

Ready to go for a ride!

Just getting started on the trip... so far, so good.

Taking the bike lane... so glad it's here to use.

Not thrilled that the city plows snow from the main part of the street, but not the bike lanes, so even two weeks after the big snow, the bike traffic must navigate around it. Fortunately, this is a residential area, so the traffic isn't too bad.

These people had more than a haul! I was impressed with the amount of stuff they were pulling down the street.

Back in the bike lane - and it's clear!

More folks out walking... love the purple on the skirt.

Car pulling out in front of me (she honestly didn't even look), but at least it wasn't too close a call.

Another car that shot out in front of me, just a block apart, actually.

A fellow cyclist passing - he smiled and said hello.

More un-plowed snow making for slick ice in the bike lane.

More people out walking and enjoying the beautiful day.

Another car pulling out in front of me (I never realized how often this happens).

Didn't get far in front of me though, as s/he hit the red light (which, by the way, was green when I got to it). :O)

And, the rest of the ride was green lights and smooth riding. The point & shoot didn't do too bad... next time, the DSLR! Hope your Wednesday was full of good bike times!

Sometimes You Feel Like a Flower, Sometimes Like a Weed

I woke up this morning with a sore throat and feeling as though someone drugged me before I dozed off last night. "Great," I thought, "I'm getting sick." I got up and surveyed the room. Despite it's completely disheveled state, the bed was definitely calling me back to it.

Man, I'm a messy sleeper... 

But, there was a day awaiting and much to be done. As I came to the front of the house, the dogs were anxiously awaiting the start of the days' routine. They expect to go to the park first thing in the morning to get a bit of a run in, but I just wasn't feeling it this morning at all.

While it's difficult for me to tell them we aren't going, I have a lot of work to be doing, and despite the fact that class was called off for the day due to the instructors need to leave town, I have things due tomorrow, such as this handwritten mess below for a "Medieval Manuscripts" class I'm taking. There's nothing particularly medieval about the assignment (other than perhaps torturing me needlessly), as I'm just supposed to copy by hand anything of my choosing.

The handwritten manuscript is started, but I have a long way to go to finish it.

The hand writing part of the assignment is fine, but it's time consuming because we have to utilize the same "prick and rule" process they did back in the day. I can't help but think that if we are supposed to be getting a complete feel for the process, shouldn't we have to use a quill and ink? And while we're at it, maybe we should raise some cattle, feed them, skin them, and dry their hides to make the paper? Okay, perhaps I'm just a bit grouchy about having to do such a tedious assignment, but I saw this sitting to the side and told the dogs they may not get their run this morning. Then, I saw my bike sitting in the dinning room (don't ask why it's in the dining room), and thought maybe my grouchy self needed a ride this morning.

I told myself that I have too much to get done today, but then I thought that maybe I'd accomplish more if I just cleared my head, so, off I went. The first thing I noticed is that I was feeling quite emotional this morning. The weather reminded me of the first day of school growing up on the central coast of California. It was always a bit chilly and humid, and the sky was almost always covered with clouds.

I tend to be more of a future-oriented person than one who lives in the past, but every once in awhile thoughts sneak in, particularly around holidays or annual celebrations. As I headed west on the Hillborne I started to tear up. I'm not sure I could say exactly why, but I suppose there was a kind of flood of memories and emotions that overtook me simultaneously. I didn't mind though - there was no one around, and I didn't have to be in a hurry to get anywhere. I kind of lost myself in thought and just let whatever emotions were going to come out rise to the surface. I pedaled harder, and then I'd slow down. The pace was all over the place, but I felt as though I was working through something. When I felt as though I needed to turn around and head back (after all, I do have things to accomplish today), I did just that. No sooner had I turned around when I felt a smile come across my face. Again, I have no idea why, but I felt happy just to be in the moment.

I couldn't help but look at this scene above and feel a connection. I thought to myself, "sometimes you're the flower; sometimes, the weed." I think it's true for almost all of us that we have days when we feel like the weeds - a tangled mess, sucking the life out of the vegetation trying to co-exist along side.

Then there are the times that perhaps we feel more like the flower - standing out from the crowd, looking and feeling strong. Neither is necessarily good or bad, and really both are helping to sustain life, but it's amazing how things can get so muddled at times.

This spider decided to make its web inside the flower, which, in itself is just a part of life. The flower doesn't seem to mind, and the spider has a place to catch a meal.

So, as I rode back home I decided that I am perfectly okay feeling like the flower or the weed, because it's all just part of the journey. If I have a day that seems like a tangled mess of things, I know that the next I may be feeling strong and able to help out someone else. Whether I'm feeling like the weed, the flower, or even the spider setting up shop, I am going to enjoy the moments and know that it's all just a part of the process.

Now where are those dogs of mine? Time to let them play.

Venus de Miles 2011 Completed

**Update: I should always speak to my better half before posting anything. I forgot that he was out with his camera phone and actually snapped a few shots of the ride, so I've added those in. Yay for photos!


As fair warning to anyone looking for photos, I have no visuals to support this years' Venus de Miles ride, but I definitely have commentary. But, before I get into that, I should go back to mid-evening Saturday night when we decided to do a last minute check up on the Hillborne to make sure all was functional and working appropriately. I had mentioned that perhaps the saddle should be tipped down a bit (I kept feeling as though every time I rode, it was slowly dipping in the back), so we took it out front to make the adjustment. As I rode down the street, all of a sudden the saddle collapsed from beneath me. I couldn't help but let out a little scream as it startled me to suddenly lose my seat. I pedaled back and we fixed the saddle again. I started down the street again, and - same results (without the scream this time). We removed the seat post and discovered that at some point it had loosened slightly and had stripped itself, no longer allowing the saddle to be held in place. Bummer. Fortunately, we had another seat post to use, so we took that one off, put the other one on, and then realized that because of the clamp on it and the railing on the Brooks saddle, it just wouldn't hold it in place. It was fairly late in the evening by this juncture, and all the bike shops were closed, so it was time to move on to plan B.

**Image from Venus de Miles

Plan B turned out to be riding a bicycle that I've only ridden a total of about 35 miles. Plan B scared the bejesus out of me because of my hand/wrist issues and not having established the comfort that I have on the Hillborne. I was a bit hesitant, but, since I knew my friend Cara and I would only be doing the shortest ride, I figured it was better than not showing up at all. We adjusted the saddle, changed out bar tape to provide more cushioning on the drop bars, and hoped for the best.

Start line of Venus de Miles 2011 9am group

Of course, Saturday night I didn't sleep well, finally dozing off somewhere around 1am Sunday morning, and then waking a little after 3a because I'd consumed so much water before bed that I had to get up. I fell back asleep some time after 4a, and then rose again at about 6:45a. Not the best nights sleep, to say the least. Regardless, I awoke, ready to get the ride under way, and anxious to meet up with my pal. When I arrived on scene, we had a bit of trouble locating each other, but actually connected very soon after our wave of the ride began.

A group of ladies about 8 miles into the ride... Love the tutu's!

We talked a bit about how the summer was going, and how I have entirely too much to get done to be spending this time riding, but was happy to be out in the fresh air. She shared that she never decided on a bike and opted to rent the one she was riding, and wasn't entirely comfortable on it. As we climbed our way out of the neighborhood where the ride begins, we chatted along, but I could see Cara was struggling. She encouraged me to ride on ahead, but I told her we were doing this together and "no man would be left behind." I pedaled along in front of her, and after a few minutes turned around to realize she was nowhere within visual range. I stopped mid way up the climb, thinking she would be approaching any moment, but she didn't arrive. I started asking those passing by if they'd noticed anyone stopped on the side of the road. Each person said they hadn't, so I continued to wait. A few minutes later, a car pulled over and asked if I needed assistance. I replied that I was actually doing great, but was just waiting for a friend who seemed to have fallen back. They said they noticed a woman on the side of the road just back a bit, so I turned around and headed back, thinking that she'd been cursed with a flat.

A small group of ladies crossing Hwy 119 at Niwot Road, Niwot, Colorado

As I spotted her not too far from my previous point, I waved and asked if everything was okay. Apparently, as she was shifting coming up the hill, she heard her ankle crack. While I'm no expert, that just didn't sound good to me. She didn't seem to be able to put pressure on her foot, so we waited for a ride to come and get her. Sadly, we were only a couple of miles into the ride at this point, so as I waved goodbye and took off to finish on my own, I realized that I was at it alone once again.

I reassured myself that it would be fine. I've trained for this (albeit on a completely different bike) alone so I'm used to amusing myself, and last year I met up with some really great women who I tagged along with, so, I assumed this year would be the same... I was wrong. It was quite disheartening to see an event that I remember fondly from last year become a ride that was not something I would recommend to others. While there was the occasional polite and/or cheery rider, many participants seemed out of sorts and completely non-communicative. Few were announcing that they were passing, I watched cyclists on an open-to-car-traffic road riding more than 3 abreast, and many seemed to be just generally cantankerous. Needless to say, it made for a less than thrilling ride.

Headed toward the mountains!

While I'm still waiting on reports of my friends' injury, and repairs to the Hillborne are underway, I'm trying to figure out what went awry with today's ride. I know I was excited to get underway this morning, and I tried to chat with people as I passed, but something just felt off with a lot of riders. Maybe next time I need to try a longer distance, or perhaps not focus on having fun? I thought it was sort of the point of this fundraiser-ride, however, so I'm left feeling a bit empty and confused. Though it wasn't the best ride ever for me, I do hope that others enjoyed and, most importantly, that lots of money was raised for Greenhouse Scholars.