Climbing Hills or Mountains: The Ride to Jamestown

My personal history with climbing on bicycles is a tempestuous one. I have had years during which I've tried to force myself to climb, even when I didn't desire it, and other years when I've avoided it entirely (or at least as much as is possible while living at the base of the Rockies). No matter my intent for the season or year, there's a reality that some amount of climbing is going to take place on just about any ride; but as stated in the past, I am surprisingly skilled at avoiding climbing in a place that has quite an array of opportunities to head upward.

My reality, however, is that I am a horrible climber (is there a term worse than horrible to use here, probably - perhaps, 'appallingly shameful' is better phrasing). One would think that with the terrain surrounding our geographical locale I would improve at riding uphill, but that never seems to quite happen.

I believe this is due to a variety of factors that include my lack of regular, concentrated practice, riding heavier-than-average bikes, having knees and hips that frequently decide to quit on me, and of course, the extra meat on my body, which certainly doesn't do me any favors when fighting gravity.

Since acquiring our tandem, I believe Sam has made a purposeful attempt (though he will likely deny this) to cajole and sometimes nearly force me into riding places that I have managed to avoid during our 15 years in Colorado. The thing with riding a tandem is that two people have to agree on where they are going because where one goes the other must follow.

Often times I leave planning the ride to Sam (with some exceptions) because I frankly don't enjoy the process of thinking about where we'll be going. Sometimes, I request an approximate distance maximum or have a request not to climb much if my body is being uncooperative on the given day, but other than that, it's kind of a happy moment to not have to plan the route.

There is another reality though in that our weighty tandem is not truly set up for road rides. Positioning is such (out of necessity due to its large size and our vertical challenges) that we sit quite upright. While it can be comfortable to ride upright, long climbs or traveling longer distances on roads can become more painful in this position, we've found.

Still, we've attempted to not allow this positioning to deter us from using the tandem. Although we've found that there is a maximum distance that is realistic on this bike, we've done a fair amount of riding on it in our relatively short time owning it. So, when Sam wanted to join a group ride that was heading up (meaning, we were going to climb) into a local, tiny town called Jamestown, I was on the hesitant side of the coin.

"As long as the group understands that they can't wait for us because we'll be slow," I replied to Sam's idea. In truth, I've wanted to ride to Jamestown for a number of years, but haven't. Initially, I didn't feel that I was capable, then we had flooding which destroyed the road to this little hamlet, and then -- well, there's just the fact that I have continued to make excuses. While the road still isn't completely repaired since the 2013 flood, it's repaired enough that others have continued to ride it.

The descriptions I've overheard from other cyclists make the climb to Jamestown sound difficult, and the thought of riding a heavy, slow tandem up something like this did not sound appealing in the least. But, it's also true that I tend to push myself more on the tandem than on my single, so I figured this was as good a time as any to give it a try.

This is what the ride looks like. Some might love the looks of this, but I fear it - though it is admittedly not nearly the elevation (or steepness) that could be gained in our location.

The ride itself consists of climbing to Jamestown and then, assuming one is returning to Boulder County, a descent back down. So, from the moment we leave our door, it's an uphill battle (literally), but the good news was that we'd have (hopefully) a fun down hill all the way back home, which would make up for the extremely slow speeds ascending.

We met up with the group that was riding and prepared to be left behind. I wasn't entirely sure why we were riding with the group because we both very well knew there was no possibility of maintaining the speeds they would, but still we stood, waiting for the ride to begin.

As predicted, we were left behind at about mile 5-6. It's just a reality of riding this way, but I was actually happy to be alone. I was not feeling the ride at all. My knees were cranky, my whole body felt tired, and before we'd even really begun the route, I felt mentally over this little adventure.

Sam, sensing that this might not be a good day to attempt this ride, suggested that, since we were on our own now, we could head in another direction that wouldn't have so much climbing, but we'd have to get up the road we were on in order to do so... and so, we cranked on with me whining about how incapable I felt.

The road we were riding to get to the base of the mountains -- looking back down at the steady, though not-as-horrible-as-it-seems-while-riding incline.

The road we were on is one of those that just tends to be irritating. It's not particularly difficult necessarily (though there is constant climbing for the approximate 7 miles), but it just mentally gets me each time. We'd been on that road a few too many times in the weeks prior as well, and I don't think it was helping the situation. The thing is, I actually do better oftentimes when it's a short, steeper climb than when it's a long, drawn out one that isn't quite as brutal - but, I knew what I'd signed myself up for, so we kept on pedaling.

Eventually, we reached our decision spot: We either continued on the path to Jamestown, or we could head another direction and away from the climbing.

"Well, we've already come this far," I said to Sam, "Might as well keep going. Besides, we can always turn around if it gets to be too much, right?"

Sam responded in the affirmative and off we went, continuing our quest to ride to Jamestown on this beast of a tandem.

By this point in the ride, my mental state had improved. My body was not as cooperative, but I didn't expect it would be. We had a short bit of travel on a somewhat busy highway and then a quick westward turn to head up into the Rockies.

As we rode, Sam pointed out all the cars parked at the base so that they could ride from that point instead of riding to the base and then starting the climb. I somewhat envied them, but there is something to be said for pedaling to the destination and then completing the goal. Plus, it would feel like cheating living so close, at least in my mind.

Indication/warning that the road is still not completely repaired from our nearly-5-year-ago flooding

The ride was pleasant and the temperature, while cool, was actually nice for the climbing portion of this ride. Other cyclists came and went, passing us without much effort. Some waved as they went flying past us down the hill, others who passed us going up the hill asked where we were headed (apparently, we look like complete fools decked out in lycra yet riding this upright bike on the roads, so I'm supposing that's why we received so many inquiries).

A brief stop on the climb up to Jamestown - I still haven't mastered drinking while riding this tandem.

My mood had improved tremendously from the beginning of this ride and the climbing really wasn't bothering me, despite our incredibly slow pace. Occasionally, I'd inquire as to how many more miles we had to cover to arrive at our destination, but it was out of curiosity rather than out of need to stop.

We still hadn't seen our group head back down the mountain, and I reiterated to Sam that I genuinely hoped they weren't all waiting for us at Jamestown. Just about the time the words had come from my mouth, the front of the group came racing down the hillside. "Hey! Have fun!" we yelled out as they went tearing past us.

One of the last riders came back to check on us before heading the rest of the way down with the group, and we assured him that we were fine, just slow on climbs.

Truthfully, I was enjoying this portion of the ride. It was not remotely as bad as I'd anticipated it would be from stories I'd heard. While there were brief moments that were a bit more difficult, on the whole, it was pleasant and doable, I thought.

Soon after, we pedaled our way into Jamestown, an adorable, small little pocket in the mountains. We took a few moments to appreciate the change in scenery from the low lands of home and then decided we'd better not spend too much time as it had taken quite a bit longer than we'd anticipated to arrive.

Trees and other foliage were just starting to bloom, but I can imagine how beautiful it would be when everything turns. Guess that means we'll be heading up again soon!

Standing outside the post office in Jamestown

For some perspective, it took us a bit over an hour and a half to climb to Jamestown and about 20 minutes to come back down (and that was with riding the brakes a good portion of the way down).

One of the things I realized during this ride is that I have such a tendency to talk myself out of climbing because I hear stories about certain places and make assumptions about how it will feel or my belief that I am incapable of completing the ride to whatever the destination. This ride was nowhere near as bad as I'd expected and I actually enjoyed it. I have a tendency to forget that with climbing often comes a great view of surroundings, and a sense of accomplishment. It's much easier to distract myself when there's something of interest too.

Although this ride is not in a category I'd term epic (though climbing on our HHH tandem can make any climb feel "epic"), it was a good reminder to self that, especially when we're pedaling together, anything is possible. Sam may make a climber out of me yet - particularly if we keep heading to such beautiful end points.

Tandemania: First Rides with the Rivendell Hubbuhubbuh Tandem

Several years ago, the thought of riding a tandem seemed like something I really wanted to try. I spent months reading just about everything I could find on the subject, but ultimately came to the decision that Sam and I probably weren't a couple who would ever actually give this method of riding a try. I'm a bit klutzy and I had created a mental world of potential problems from what I had been reading, so after all the information I'd synthesized, the conclusion was reached that it just wasn't something for the two of us.

Some people called riding tandem "the divorce maker" which didn't put it in the best light. Others proclaimed that it took a great deal of skill and compromise in order to ride together. Occasionally the thought popped back into my head, but I'd remind myself that it wasn't something for me. I would watch others riding tandem and think it was a magical activity for only the very few among us. I idealized the thought of being able to ride with someone else on a bicycle, but knowing that I tend to be a clumsy person and a bit in my own world when I ride, I had decided that it wasn't something I would ever do.

Over the last few years, Sam and I have virtually stopped riding together. There are a few factors that have played into this reality, but the biggest reason put mostly simply is that Sam has become stronger every year, while I continually stay the same, or some years even seem to get weaker with riding (which is not to say that I am a weak individual, but rather that he rides much longer and harder than I do more regularly). We ride around town if we're going somewhere, but that's about the extent of our wandering on a bike together. While I know he is capable of slowing to my speeds, I feel guilty any time we ride together because I am aware that I'm slowing him down, or I become silently angry because we go too far and I don't feel as though I am capable of the ride's distance.

You can see how all of this would play into my existing fears of riding a tandem. While it is said that a tandem is a way to balance out weaker/stronger rider combinations, I imagined that we would end up in arguments over speed, distance, cadence, and so on. I don't like fighting - with anyone - but least of all Sam, so I still wasn't convinced this was something we should try.

Early this year, the subject came up again though. Sam, having joked more than once that he wants to get me on a tandem so that we could do races together, was talking about the idea more seriously. I laughed it off, knowing that tandems probably weren't a good idea for us. Still, the thought that had started many years prior was lingering in the back of my mind. It didn't help that I was on the email list for Rivendell's Hubbuhubbuh (HHH) tandem bike and would occasionally get updates about its specifications and expected delivery date.

We chatted more seriously about the possibility, wondering if perhaps the HHH could be the right experiment for us, but we talked about it so long that we missed out on the opportunity as the small sizes went incredibly quickly.

In my research during the years before, I had learned that there is a tandem-specific shop in the Denver area. One weekend day when we'd become a little more serious about the possibility of a tandem, we took a trip down to this shop and spoke with the owner. He was very pleasant and allowed us to peruse the tandems he had on the floor. Of course, if we wanted a stock frame, there really aren't many options for us. With each of us being under 5'4", the bike world rarely makes frames that fit, let alone something that is so much more specific. The shop owner did have one stock Co-Motion frame that he thought would work and encouraged us to set up a time to come back and take it for a test ride.

Over the weeks that followed, we talked about the idea more and came back around to the conclusion that perhaps tandem riding was not in our future. Frankly, I worried about being in either the stoker or captain position for various reasons. I was also unsure of whether Sam would really want to slow down enough to be able to ride in tandem, together, or if I'd be able to keep up with his leg power.

Then, one evening when I couldn't sleep, I was reading an update from Rivendell and saw that there was a small tandem frame remaining (and that they'd be ordering just a few more before they called it quits on the HHH). Something lit inside of me again and I wondered if maybe we should give it a try. With all the back and forth we'd had over such a bike, and other bicycles that had been sold to make room for a potential tandem, we thought maybe it was time to take a leap and see where it would take us.

We knew the Riv would be a stable bike which we thought would be good for our first attempt at tandem riding, but still had some doubt about the size of even the small frame. Knowing that it would be a tight fit, we thought if we sized down a bit on the tires (Riv recommends pretty wide tires at 60mm) that perhaps we could just make it work.

Up front, we were also aware that the Rivendell tandem would not be meant for any sort of racing or club riding, but that isn't really what we were looking for either. We wanted to be able to ride some dirt trails and other local roads together and hoped that this would be the right decision.

Sadly, our HHH only has one headbadge as they were sent unattached to the frame and one was crushed in shipping.

Going with the parts Rivendell recommended, Sam built up the tandem (his first tandem build!) in our dining room. We quickly discovered (as should've been obvious, but wasn't something we really thought through beforehand) that the tandem is so long, finding a place to assemble, tune, or work on the bike in any way is a bit of a challenge. Even picking up the frame from the shipping carrier was a bit comical, but we made it work.

We ran into a few issues during the build. One of the problems was the seat post for the captain position. Because we both have short legs, the only way we could get the saddle in a good position was to lower it almost completely into the seat tube. The problem was that the top of the seat post sent is tapered and this is where the mount for the stoker handlebars would sit, so we couldn't quite get it to work. After obtaining a non-tapered seat post for the captain's saddle, we managed to get things working a bit better.

We had also decided not to buy new handlebars at the time of purchase since we have so many in the stash to choose from, but when we tried to use what we had, we just couldn't get the fit quite right, so we ended up having to get a new set of bars for each of us. After a couple of weeks of fussing and trial and error, it was time to set out on a test trip.

The decision had been reached that I would ride captain and Sam would be the stoker. It is, perhaps, a bit unconventional for a male-female riding team (though I have seen such duos on occasion), but fortunately Sam does not feel emasculated or lesser by allowing me to pedal in the front position. It also put me slightly more at ease (slightly) to be at the front than riding in the rear. This did, however, put a huge responsibility on my shoulders which I did not take lightly.

For our first tests, we each set out alone in the captain position to test out the bike. It did not seem wise for two new-to-tandem-bike riders to set out together when we had no idea how the bike would handle. Personally, I had visions of the bike flipping up or out the side with only one rider on it, but that is not what happened (Thank you television for putting that thought in my head!). Strangely enough, it rode pretty much like a normal bicycle with only one person, except that the handling was a bit different and the extreme length that followed behind, creates the need for wider turns.

Of course, riding a bicycle built for two as a single was not the goal, so we knew we'd have to actually try out riding it together. I did my best not to get panicked by the thought of being responsible for both riders, and we discussed beforehand our basic plan of starting and stopping, as well as a few minor things that I have to do because of injuries (like starting on a specific foot when stopped).

Initially, we had tried to start off as we had been told we should with Sam up in the stoker seat ready to pedal and me still on the ground to hold the bike; however, this was not working for us in any way. While I could hold and steady the bike with him in position, my back/hip issues prevented me from being able to steady the bike and get into the saddle. Instead, we decided to simply do a quick count and then both start pedaling from the ground together. This worked much, much better for us, though I admit it may not be the best for every tandem team.

The plan was simply to ride in a straight line down our street about 100 ft (30 m) and then stop (if we didn't have to do so before hand). Instead, we ended up going around a couple of blocks, stopping and starting (shaky starts, admittedly) and trying to get a feel for this new type of riding. We were both surprised at the ease with which we were able to get going. I think we each had visions of very short stretches of riding before we'd be able to go anywhere, but things had gone so well in our early test runs (we took a few more before setting out) that we decided to actually venture outside of the neighborhood.

Our first real ride took us just shy of 12 miles (19 km) over some back roads with a couple of minor hills to get a feel for how we'd work together. It was strange and interesting as we both quickly learned about each other's riding habits.

One of the first minor inclines we encountered, I could hear Sam breathing somewhat heavily behind me, after which he commented that I seemed to really like to "mash." I really don't think of myself as someone who pushes in harder gears, but when I realized that I felt like I would normally be in a more difficult gear, we were going to need to find some compromise between what each of us normally does on our own. It isn't that Sam doesn't normally push, but I was getting the sense that when he pushes, he does so in a lower gear. I asked Sam to tell me when he wanted to pedal easier or harder and we'd make adjustments as we went.

As we headed back to home, Sam suddenly made an unannounced adjustment on his saddle which caused me to let out a short screech while trying to steady the bike. We both began to realize that until we become more used to this type of riding, we really do have to speak out loud most everything we intend to do.

Surprisingly (at least to me), the first ride went as well as one could expect for a first tandem outing. In fact, we both actually had fun. We started to find our groove and we were able to start to find our way of working together. Even though I knew I had to announce everything going on (coasting, stopping, bumps, etc), I would occasionally forget or would make a statement too late. But, we both knew this would be part of the process and Sam took everything in stride.

Living on our tandem-high, the next day we decided to try again. We had made some adjustments to my handlebars in hopes of getting a bit more weight on the front end and made some saddle adjustments. One thing is for certain, the HHH tandem was not made for shorter riders, despite calling it a small. This time, we were planning a slightly longer route, but one that had lots of places for us to turn around and head home if things went awry. We had the potential to do 25+ miles (40+ km), but could also shorten the route quite a bit as well.

A few miles in to the ride, my hands started to have problems which meant pain. About 5 miles (8 km) into the outing, I had to pull over to stretch my hands. After a quick stretch, we continued on though the pain persisted.

Snow dusted Longs Peak in the distance distracted us while we took a few photos.

We climbed and descended a few short hills, discovered we already had some cable stretch and needed a quick tune-up, and were already starting to become more accustomed to pedaling together. Sam was taking on the responsibility of signaling turns and waving to others (people really like to wave to tandems it seems), I was getting better about announcing happenings, and it felt as though things were coming together.

Sadly, because of the handlebar flip, we had to head home sooner than we wanted and only ended up completing about 18 miles (29 km) of our intended ride. Still, for a our second ride out together, we thought it was all-in-all a successful trip.

It was the end of the weekend and we knew we wouldn't get time during the week to ride together, but would still ride individually. My first trip out alone on Monday had me far over-steering my commuter bike, which I found comical. It was almost as though I'd forgotten how to ride alone in a matter of two days. Sam didn't seem to have this struggle, but each of us adjusted quickly back to riding alone. I did find a bit of disappointment in riding solo though. Heading to the gym Monday morning, I missed that extra power from having a second set of legs. It's amazing how quickly we humans can become accustomed to things.

By the time our second weekend with the HHH rolled around, we were excited to get pedaling again. We didn't get to ride on Saturday because of commitments, but Sunday we were ready to go.
The dilemma was in regard to how far to go. We made a decision to head up toward the mountains to a town called Lyons and see how things went. As we set out, there were a lot of others out riding and we had a few brief conversations with people passing us or those who we passed (usually the former).

We arrived to The Stone Cup, a coffee shop in Lyons, fairly quickly, but took some time to stretch and admire our surroundings. If you've never been, the town is beautiful, particularly in the fall. The Stone Cup is also quite a gathering spot for cyclists, particularly in the summer. We were a bit late as we were riding in autumn, so there weren't quite as many people on bikes to be found stationed here, though we still enjoyed our stop off.

These stone bears really wanted to check out the Hubbuhubbuh.

Even if you've not visited, you may recall seeing Lyons in the news during the Colorado flooding four years ago. The town was pretty well completely under water and is just recently getting back to its full wonderfulness. Sadly, there is still evidence of repairs being made to structures and roadways throughout the area. For most, Lyons is a pass through on their way to the mountains or returning back to their Denver-area homes, but there is quite a bit to enjoy in this town at the base of the Rockies.

But, I've digressed from the original focus of this: the HHH tandem.

We had so much fun on our ride out to Lyons that when we got home we both felt as though we should've made a longer trip out of it. Instead, we decided to eat a bit and head out again in another direction, allowing us some more time to practice pedaling in tandem.

The weekend following we got tied up on Saturday fetching a Craigslist find which ended up occupying the entire day, but when we got out on the tandem Sunday we wanted to try to go a bit farther than we'd been pedaling in a single trip thus far.

Looking south from another small community, Berthoud.

About fifteen miles into the ride, we were chatting about whether we should head back towards home or continue in our outward direction. We decided on a whim to continuing going out which took us on a path of long, continuous climbing. Though I've ridden the same route prior on my own, it's been about four years and my mind betrayed me when trying to recall how much climbing there was to be done.

As we climbed, we both got quiet and then suddenly started laughing because we were so entirely focused on getting to the summit of the climb that we realized we'd stopped speaking at all.

Despite the more-than-expected climbing, we had another great ride. In fact, we haven't had a bad ride, even with the few hiccups along the way. We've taken the HHH on dirt trails and ridden on paved roads and it's fun to ride regardless. Of course, it's still early on in our time together with only about a half dozen or so rides of any distance undertaken together, so it will be interesting to see how things progress over the coming months and years. To this point though, I think we're both happy with the decision to try tandem riding. It's given us time to be together, to work as a team, and just enjoy something we both love doing.

Some observations we've made during our short amount of time riding tandem and about the HHH, in no particular order:

-- Even the small size of the HHH is likely best suited (at least for the captain position) for someone at least 5'7" or taller. At not quite 5'4", it's really a stretched reach (even for someone used to long top tube bikes), so it would've been nice to see an x-small frame for the HHH. Stand over is a bit dicey as well, even having it built up with narrower (42mm) tires, but it works - just barely.

-- Finding a middle ground for each rider to be happy hasn't been terribly difficult for us. As captain, I was catching myself constantly asking if Sam was okay until he became completely annoyed and told me just to pedal and he'd tell me if something wasn't working. As long as there's a system that works, I don't think it really matters what the specifics are.

-- All of the reading done prior to riding a tandem put a lot of fear in my head about what would happen when we were both on the bike together. It was really a relief when we just rode and realized it wasn't nearly as scary as we'd thought it could be. Part of this I would think is because of the way this particular tandem frame was designed/built.

-- Uphill can be quite a challenge and downhill can have its own problems with potential to get out of control easily. Though I've always appreciated on some level the work tandem teams do, I have a new found respect for people who do races or long-distance touring on tandems!

-- Thus far, distance seems to be a physical challenge for us. As Sam said on our last ride, "Forty miles (65km) on a tandem seems to feel more like 75 miles (120km) on a single!" I think that's about the best way I can explain it too. While in some instances it seems easier (having the extra set of legs is certainly beneficial), it seems to take a greater toll on our bodies over a shorter distance (we've presumed simply because of the additional weight, and perhaps the gearing as well). It will be interesting to see if this evolves or changes as we ride more.

-- Both others on bicycles and motorized traffic seem to be a bit kinder to us on the tandem, with rare exception. On one ride though, we crossed paths with another tandem and while we were (perhaps overly) excited to see another duo on a tandem, they did not seem to share our excitement. We smiled and said, "Hey! Another tandem!!" as we crossed paths with them and were met only with scowls and glares. Apparently tandem riders don't appreciate it when other tandem riders cross paths with them... or, perhaps they were just having a rough day.

-- Despite some thinking of tandem bicycles as "divorce makers," I think a tandem amplifies however the duo communicate and deal with each other in every day life. If you don't get along well in life, I can see how it could create problems on a tandem, but if you can get through things without too much drama, I don't think a tandem is going to make or break any relationship, assuming both are amenable to compromise.

-- Riding a tandem is fun! Personally, I miss it when I'm riding alone sometimes, but I still enjoy my single bikes too. The nice thing is that it feels like a treat when we have a day or two to ride together.

-- A mirror seems like a really important piece of equipment, on a tandem in particular. We mounted one to the front basket, but it moves around so much that it's not reliable at all. The next round trial, we'll try mounting one to my helmet to see if that stays put a bit better (or at least, it should be easier to adjust while riding).

-- It's a lot easier to hear each other talking on a tandem. We sometimes struggle hearing when riding single bikes together, and have been known to go back and forth with a lot of "what's?" as we ride. Tandeming seems to take that small annoyance away. Yay!

-- Speed: My average speed has increased riding tandem while Sam's has slowed. Of course, I'm used to riding about 5-7+ miles per hour (8-11+ kph) slower than he does on an every day basis (I'm a lollygager on the bike unless racing or training to race, which isn't often), but I ride bikes that are about 6-20 pounds (3-9 kg) heavier than his. Because of this...

-- I think Sam struggles more (though we both definitely feel it) with the weight of the bike because 1) he's the stoker and has the power to really push (or not) the speed of the tandem, so he often takes it upon himself to push, and 2) he's used to riding much lighter bicycles which obviously puts a greater strain on his legs.

-- Both of our posteriors hurt far more than riding single. Our hope is that we'll become confident enough at some point to try standing or even standing AND pedaling together so that we can get some relief for our sit bones. It's easy to forget that we tend to do this naturally on our single bikes, but when riding tandem, we have to make sure to coordinate such efforts.

Do you ride tandem or have you ridden a tandem bicycle in the past? What was your experience? Any thoughts or recommendations for people just starting out? Has anyone else ridden the HHH tandem? If you have thoughts on that tandem in particular, I'm sure others would love to hear what you think.

A custom steel build experience: Independent Fabrication Crown Jewel

At the beginning of the year, I started a more focused contemplation on a custom road bike. There has been much talk over the years, but as winter rolled in, I found myself believing it was time to look at this option more seriously. I've had several different types of road bikes over the last few years that were made of steel, carbon or aluminum. The problem with each road bike I have tried is that I never seemed to find quite the right fit. While I'm on the shorter side of the spectrum, I am not freakishly below the average female height at 5' 3.75", but my proportions and finicky/hyper-aware tendencies with minor adjustments, as well as a pre-cycling damaged hand/wrist seem to cause a lot of trouble with road bike fit. To top things off, I have a questionable knee and a completely jacked up lower back. I have come close to a good fit with the Trek Madone (from 2012 - it was modified in later models), but it still wasn't quite right and I have just never found a love for carbon frames.

For years, I have looked into various brands and possibilities for a custom road bike build, but it always seemed like such an extravagant or last resort kind of avenue to take. Surely, I could find something on a bike shop floor or we could build something from a stock frame that would work - or so I thought. After several attempts and many changes and adjustments to each bike I had, we finally started a serious look at having a custom frame built.

*Images from respective companies linked below

While my initial research took me through many, many possibilities, the main brands I was considering were Dean, Seven, Rodriguez, and Independent Fabrication, but I seriously pondered a titanium Eriksen as well. They each had their positive and negative aspects, but I wanted to remain open to as many possibilities without driving myself insane with too many options. I liked Dean because they are local and I've seen some very lovely frames, but I'd also heard some not-so-great stories about experiences with the company, so I wasn't sure I wanted to head down that road. The same was true for Rodriguez (not the local portion, but the rest of the reasoning). A lot of people have had success with Seven and there are a few local bike shop partners, but I also see many of these bikes for sale (both on CL and eBay), so I was a bit leery to go this route. My knowledge of IndyFab was minimal. I knew of them, have seen their bikes in person, but honestly didn't know anyone who'd bought a bike through them. All paths seemed to lead into the unknown, so I looked into all options to see what made the most sense.

As luck would have it, one of the local bike shops just happens to have recently partnered with IndyFab. We have known the manager for a bit now and although a custom build wasn't something he was used to doing, one of the owners has completed several builds with IndyFab and was ready to take on the challenge.

I was still very unsure of what I wanted in regard to material. Initially, I thought titanium might be the way to go, but not being able to ride a bike made of titanium before it was manufactured was a little unnerving. Some people seem to really love their ti bikes, while other do not (although I've yet to read anything negative about the titanium Crown Jewel). But, after some discussion and back and forth, the consensus was to go ahead with steel.

In order to get a proper fit, lots of measurements were taken. Everything from arm length to body height and just about every other part of the body one can imagine was measured (side note: I learned one of my arms is actually almost 1/2 an inch shorter than the other - go figure). All of the numbers were sent off to IndyFab and communication between their end and our local shop got underway. I was told I should have the bike by the time the Tour started, and that was pretty much where things were left.

Several weeks later, I went into the local shop for another fitting on their trainer. The folks at IndyFab wanted to be sure that (particularly due to my wrist issues) the measurements were right for the frame before they made their cuts and started welding. Honestly, this was my first moment of panic. When I got on the trainer, everything felt wrong. The bars were far too low, I felt too stretched, and I worried they had mistaken my measurements for someone else entirely because it just felt so off. I began wondering if it was a horrible idea to have a custom frame built, knowing that I was putting full trust in a company I would never speak to directly.

As luck would have it, one of the shops' pro fitters happened to be in house while I was on the adjustable trainer. I still wasn't feeling as though things were quite right in regard to fit, and he made a stop in to check on me. We went through an interesting experiment during which he had me sit up on the saddle without touching the handlebars and close my eyes while he made adjustments. Then, I'd open my eyes, get back in position and see how things felt. Ultimately, his help resulted in the bars being lower than I'd normally have them, but they were closer to my body to help keep a bend in my elbow. It was quite an interesting experience, actually, but my primary concern was that I would be comfortable in the end on the frame being built.

The one thing that kind of surprised me during this process is that the experience of a custom build was not exactly what I expected (though I don't know that I really knew what to expect either). Perhaps it would've been different if I'd chosen a local builder over one that is 2,000 miles away, or... maybe it would've been exactly the same. It's honestly hard to say as I don't have much of a frame of reference for custom builds. It was by no means a bad experience, but after the initial measurements, everything was kind of quiet. I'm not sure precisely what I expected. Photo updates of progress? An e-mail to let me know how things were coming along? I realize none of these things are required/necessary, but I suppose I thought there would be more chatter during the wait time (I even joked with a reader with whom I'd been e-mailing and who happens to live in NH that I should send him over to check on my build). Sure, I annoyed the local shop just about every week, but that's just part of the fun of dealing with me. :O) I don't think I was too much of a thorn in their side, and they haven't banned me from the shop yet (some gratis beer may have helped with that), so I think all is still well. Regardless of what was going on locally, I knew things were underway and I did my best to be patient as the frame was built.

After the tests on the trainer, I waited again. I had been told that I would get a call from the local shop when the frame had been shipped from IndyFab so that I could bring my parts into the shop (We had stripped the parts off of my former road bike for the new build). Then, when the frame arrived, they would build up the bike and have me come in to take it for a test. I waited (somewhat patiently) for a call. Then, we were up in Leadville as Sam prepared to participate in the Silver Rush 50 and ran into one of the bike shop employees who was also doing the race. We had stopped in a coffee shop, as had she, and as it turns out she actually sees all of the shipments coming into the shop. She made a passing comment about my frame arriving any day (so much for a phone call), and I was ecstatic to hear the news. Less than a week later, the whole bike would be in my hot little hands.

I was a little shocked at the brightness/intensity of the paint color initially (which is not to say that this color is obnoxiously bright, but simply more so than I'd anticipated), but it grew on me quickly. Having only viewed the color swatch on the computer screen, it seemed a slightly more muted/lighter color (which is a good lesson to always get a paint swatch before saying yes to a color viewed online - as a painter myself, I should definitely know better). It is a beautiful paint job though and while I didn't dislike the color, it was simply a bit different from what I'd imagined would arrive. The color also seems to change in appearance based on lighting, which is true of most things in life. I don't know that the purple bar tape was necessarily the route to go, but it is an easy switch at a later time, and I think there is enough difference in the two hues to not create too much clash for the time being.

From the start of "real" information being shared to the date I picked up the bike, the total wait time was about 3 months. Really, a speck in time, especially for a custom ride. Of course, there are many factors that played into this, and in all reality, it could've taken much, much longer. I didn't want any fancy paint jobs (with fades, multiple colors, or special blocking - which is where a lot of time can be spent), so that helped speed things along. I didn't request lugs or anything that would require excess amounts of time either. What I did want is a well-constructed frame that would withstand the tests of time. I believed that simplicity would be my friend in this regard.

I will refrain from much commentary about the bike itself until I have had more time to ride it (it's difficult not to say anything, but I really do want to give it time before throwing out a lot of thoughts), but I will say that right after receiving the Crown Jewel, I took it for a nice test run of just over 40 miles, up some decent climbs, down some substantial descents, out on some flats, and didn't notice anything odd about the bike or the fit. In fact, I found that I had to pay attention to how I was feeling most of the time because I seemed pretty comfortable. That is good news in itself. We will see how the Crown Jewel does over the coming weeks and months, but I am hopeful that this was the right decision.

At this point, if I had it to do over again, I would, even knowing the price involved. The most difficult cost was giving up my most-comfortable-to-that-point road bike in order to fund the start of this frame/fork, which gave me a bit of anxiety during the wait time (and was a bit challenging in the midst of spring/summer training), but I think it was well worth it (or at least I hope). I think for anyone who has difficulty with fit, having the opportunity to build a custom bike is a great option, and I think IndyFab did a beautiful job.

Additionally, I can see very easily how this could become addictive. Who wouldn't want every bicycle s/he rides to be made specifically for him/her, or to his/her specifications? Of course... funding that sort of thing is a completely different story. Maybe when the money tree finally starts to grow? In the meantime, I am glad I waited to do this build because I am far more aware of what I need and want in a road bike. I'm not sure that would've been the case a few years ago. But... time will tell what the outcome will be with this bike. I went into it knowing full well that it could just as easily end up in disappointment or as a huge waste of money. Thus far, that doesn't seem to be the case, so I am very grateful.

Have you been through a custom bike build? What was the outcome? If you haven't done a custom, have you considered it? Who would you select to build your frame if you could choose from any custom bicycle artisans/companies?

Sam's First Century

I mentioned in a recent post that my second century is now under my belt, but what I didn't share is that the reason for the second so quickly after the first was that Sam was really wanting to attempt his own first 100-mile ride. Rather than spending another post detailing out my thoughts on doing it a second time, I thought it might be more fun to see it through the eyes of another person's first round. I was also supposed to be going after my third this upcoming weekend with Venus de Miles, however, mother nature had other plans. Since much of our area is recovering (and will be for some time) from the damage to roads and bridges, all organized rides have been canceled for at least 30 days... which means, I won't get to do my first organized century this year. Although I am bummed that I won't get to compare the differences right now, I have no doubt there will be opportunities in the future.

I asked Sam if he'd be willing to write something up to share with others because he comes from a different place as far as cycling and other athletic events are concerned. He is really the antithesis of what I am in many respects (especially in regard to athleticism), and I think it's nice to see another perspective. So without further delay, here it is, in Sam's words (with a few interjections by me - because I can't help myself)...

My first century.

Wow, I thought, what a great idea?  Let's do Sam's first century on G.E.'s birthday, since she's already a century vet!

Some background:
I bike quite a bit - fast, far, climbing, mountain, road, casual, etc.  To that point my longest road ride had been 67 miles a couple of months ago, and it wasn't bad.

For the past couple of years, I would lament at the end of summer how I wanted to do my first century, but winter always crept up, there was not time, and many, many other lame excuses.

Enter this year:
G.E. had already randomly done her first century, nonchalantly, on a hot Friday.  A few weeks later, I was clamoring to do it myself, and we conveniently had a long weekend for her birthday, and our anniversary.  We had not planned anything big to celebrate, and it was a bit late to do so.  My thought was, why not ride a century for that "big thing."  Two birds with one stone, right?

She planned and had a route in mind, so it was set.

Ride day:

Riding is the best!

It was a Sunday, a bit cloudy, and not too hot.  We had feared it would rain.  I was sore from some other ride, workout, run... or something, as usual. {G.E.'s note: Since most do not know Sam personally, I should share here that he is a "crazy" person who completes many ridiculous athletic endeavors on a daily basis, including running half marathons "for fun" during the week at 4a before work (and he does this pretty much every week), or taking on long mountain bike rides on a whim (even if he hasn't been on a mountain bike in weeks or months). This past weekend he climbed a 14,000 foot mountain on his bike because someone gave him the grand idea that he should try it. In short, some of us have nicknamed him "Superman," and in quick summary, I suppose I assumed that riding 100 miles would be a relatively easy task for him to undertake by comparison, and he'd be dragging me along with him to the finish.}

We rolled out pretty early, just to make sure we would have time to finish if it took longer than anticipated.

G.E. was injured and I was sore, but I think we started with a good attitude.

I noticed when we planned and actually rode at an easier pace, I was aware of so much more about our surroundings, and in that sense it has changed my attitude since.  Houses, farms, animals, and landmarks were suddenly noticeable on a familiar route, when I wasn't trying to average 20+ mph.

These donkey's (and horse) were so freakin' adorable!

So, things were looking good, we were cruising, I was riding with the old pro {G.E.'s note: If I'm not mistaken, Sam is calling me "old" now. [sigh]}, and the world had suddenly become more focused.

Miles 25-40 pass.  We get closer to 50, and it's starting to grind on me.  Is it because most of my "long" rides, are around 50-60 miles?  I'm not sure, but right about then I think my body had decided to be done. Thankfully, we had a small break for lunch somewhere near 60 miles {G.E.'s note: It was mile 57, to be precise :O)}.  It was needed, and I had thought it would make all the difference.

I was so wrong!  We rolled back out after lunch, and it was okay, but around 70-75 miles, my brain hit an absolute wall, which made my body hurt and nearly give up {G.E.'s note: I had warned Sam that this time would come, but I think he doubted it - likely based on all the feats he undertakes and succeeds at on a regular basis}.  I would say in the 75-85 mile range, G.E. was in tears (she would show later that this is just her time for that) {G.E.'s note: I wasn't just in tears, I was literally sobbing like a ridiculous fool for 10-15 miles, whining that no one should have to be tortured on her birthday like this}, and I had mentally shut down - my legs were merely moving. There was a mental wall I had hit, and hit hard. Superman had not only been exposed to Kryptonite, but it had been rammed down his throat.

At 85ish miles, G.E. wakes up. She's no longer crying, and it's suddenly "easy" again {G.E.'s note: I had about 10-15 miles of feeling sorry for myself and then suddenly realized that Sam was counting on me to get him through. I knew I had to toughen up and help him see it to the end... which somehow snapped me out of my stupor}.  Me, I'm face-planted against the wall, and still moving a carbon bicycle through space with a set of legs holding up a tiny, tiny man.  At this point, I'm getting the encouragement from my better half.  "We are almost there," and "Only 'X' more miles," and so on she'd yell back to me.

This is about the point when mental fatigue was setting in

I'm hard, no question. I can do anything faster, better, longer than someone else can.  You suck, I'm better than you, and it's impossible for you to fight this. With the exception of a 100 mile ride (I'm going to have to find a way to fix this). {G.E.'s note: I think this was a good lesson for Sam... there is always someone better than oneself, or a task that seems insurmountable, even if one has Superman-like qualities.} Five miles seems like twenty, ten seem like fifty. Now we are at 90 miles, only 10 more and we are home.

Ten more miles is easy!  Man, it's not easy, and I really don't care anymore.  Superstar is dragging me along what seems to be the hardest 10 miles of my life, with zig-zagging through our neighborhood to finish, and complete the 100. {G.E.'s note: I seemed to be off just a bit in my planning, so we had about a half mile at the end to make up, which probably felt like more at the time... sorry, Sam.}

Just as my last paragraph was anti-climactic, so was the finish of the 100 miles.  No party, no finish line. {G.E.'s note: Hey, we had cake afterward, so that's sort of a party.} My deepest thought at that point was that I have no reason or desire to do this again. Why would I?

However, as predicted, after I was removed from it for only 2 days and felt better, I started thinking. I could do it again, and maybe better this time : ).

Will I do it again?  Probably.  Would I go more than 100 miles in one shot?  Doubtful.

Do I feel accomplished?  Yes, absolutely, 100%. {G.E.'s note: And, you should! It was tough and you had to listen to me have a tantrum for like an hour.}

What does the future hold?  Maybe an organized century, or something like that.  Support, rest stops.

I don't think my first one could have been better though.  Spending it with my significant other, on her birthday, and our anniversary weekend.  Not many people do things like this, or anywhere close to the things we do. {G.E.'s note: I don't know about all of that, but it was fun... if your idea of fun is torturing yourself and completing something outside socially acceptable celebratory day behavior. :O)}

100 miles, please...  The real question is, how fast can I do 100 miles?  Can I do it on a single speed?  Off road?

It was one of the hardest things I have ever done, and in less than 8 hours.

A thank you to Sam for taking the time to share his thoughts on riding his first century. 

When we were training to run a marathon several years ago, I recall other runners telling me that I would be addicted to running marathons after my first. I had no such feelings at the end, or even days and weeks after. I can, however, liken that sentiment to riding my first (and second) century because after the event is over, I can't help but think... "Yeah, totally. I can do it again." It's amusing how those thoughts of "Why am I doing this?" turn into "I want to do it again, only better!" after just a few hours or days. Perhaps it's just proof that while I am definitely not a runner, maybe there's hope of turning me into a cyclist yet. :O)

Sam did amazing on his first attempt and held it together a lot better than I did. I'm glad he was able to get this completed after so many years of wanting to see what it was all about! Congratulations!!

Snow Day: Cycling While It's Snowing

This morning, I woke up knowing we were supposed to get snow. Typically, when the snow is hyped as much as it has been, it turns out to be nothing - as in, it doesn't snow at all. Beyond that, it's the middle of April, and for most people, spring is in the air and we expect that the days are warming, rather than cooling off.  I took a glance out the window and saw that there was actually accumulation, but wondered if I should just bike in to workout this morning anyway.

It's snowing... but it didn't seem that horrible - though it did get worse

Mind you, I never ride when it's snowing. I will ride when there is snow on the ground, but I have avoided venturing out into an actual snow "storm" that is currently taking place. However, I wimped out and decided that I would drive in for the morning workout because I just didn't "feel" like riding. Look at the poor Beetle out there... she needs to be driven and warmed up, right?

When I got out to start the vehicle, she turned over, but wouldn't idle for more than a few seconds. After several attempts, I gave up and figured the universe wanted me to ride. I was a bit scared (if you read here regularly, you know how I dread the ice more than anything), but figured if I wanted to workout, that was just how it was going to be for today. I was bundled up anyway, and it didn't feel too bad, so I decided to go and grab the Hillborne out of weekend hibernation and take him to class.

I started off just fine - pedaling slowly so that I could feel any changes or slick surfaces. I decided to take surface streets rather than the trail system because the roads would more than likely be plowed (whereas the trail would not), not to mention the heat from the cars would help melt some of the snow off the roadways. I have to say, there are some really cruel drivers out on the roads! I turned on my lights (since my coat is white and blends easily with the snow) to help others see me, but it was as though some went out of their way to splash mud-snow on me as they drove by. Okay, so maybe they think I'm an idiot for riding my bike in the snow, but hey - I still have a right to be there, and it really won't kill anyone to slow down for a couple of seconds as they fly around me. My glasses (never have I been so thankful that I wear them) acted as a kind of windshield as snow splattered across my face. Pretty soon, I really couldn't see through them at all and had to peek out between the top of my glasses and the bottom of my beanie cap.

Snowy ride, but still smiling, so it can't be all bad.

Arrival to class was just about exact, but by the time we were through, I could see more snow was building up outside. Eeek! I wasn't entirely sure how to feel about it, so I decided I would attempt the trail system to get me most of the way home. This was perhaps not one of my brighter ideas. The snow was definitely heavier on the trails than on the roads and the first bridge I reached sent me sliding off out of control. I wasn't pedaling fast, but for some reason the ole noggin' just wasn't thinking about the fact that bridges are slippery when snowy. Speaking of noggin's...word to the wise, if you don't normally wear a helmet, when riding in a snow storm, this may be the time to actually wear one. I did not, and while there were no head injuries, I'm not sure I would attempt this again without one - if for no other reason than it is extremely difficult to see what is under the top of the snow.

As you can see here, the roads look better than the trail in front of me...
though this portion of the trail wasn't bad at all

Although this isn't something I do on a regular basis, there were some basic things that really stood out to me in regards to what not to, and what to do in the future (such as wearing a helmet, as mentioned above). For example, it's a bit trickier to ride a bike with a derailleur than it would be with an internal hub. As the photo below illustrates, it's easy for ice and snow to accumulate, and then shifting becomes an issue. I did my best to just stay in one gear, but that's not easy when there are hills to climb to get to where I need to go. Of course, I'm not sure it's worthwhile for me personally to invest in another bike that has an internally geared hub, but if this were to become more routine, I could certainly see the advantage. Additionally, I'm not sure fenders are particularly beneficial in a situation like this. Snow seems to get all over anyway, and it tends to get caught between the tire and the fender, which forces me to stop every so often and attempt to get the snow out from this area.

Snowy everything

Slowing down also seems to be an essential activity during this type of ride. I normally average (on this particular ride) about 14 miles per hour. Today, I averaged about 9.5 miles per hour. I found myself slowing down at the top of down hill areas as well. It seemed unwise to go flying down hill when I couldn't really see what was on the ground in front of me.

All in all, it was nice to be out in the elements, and although my hands were numb by the time I arrived to class, and I was drenched in melting snow, it was a good experience that I would definitely try again.  Even the new Soma cream tires held up well and had decent traction (review coming on these shortly). Of course, a thorough cleaning of the entire bike will be in order very soon, but I would highly recommend venturing out on a snow-day ride of your own... assuming, like those of us in northern Colorado, you're still experiencing the fun of winter weather.

Initial Ride with the Bella Ciao Superba

My sincerest apologies go out to anyone waiting for my post about the Superba. I know that I had said I would get a post up early this week, but it just wasn't in the cards. I keep starting posts to talk about the Bella Ciao, and then find myself stopping and coming back, only to begin again. Part of the continual re-starting is that I'm not entirely certain what to say about the bike just yet, and in part it is that I'm not sure I'm really ready to evaluate her, even initially. But, I also believe it's important to have first thoughts, as well as longer use opinions, and I've promised these initial impressions, so I'm going to attempt to give this a go. Please do keep in mind, however, that I've only ridden this bike less than 10 miles total.

On Saturday, I finally had the opportunity to take the Superba out for her inaugural ride. The snow had cleared enough and the weather was pretty warm (considering the time of year and cold temps of just a few days prior), so it seemed an appropriate time to get outside. We decided to ride to breakfast. Sam had a gift card to use, and I wanted out of the house for a bit.

Just looking at this bicycle anyone can see that it's quite beautiful (In fact, I was actually stopped while photographing the Bella Ciao by a woman who was curious about it). The color combination, the lugged frame, the elegant rear rack - what isn't there to love about this ride? I especially appreciate that it visually stands out in a more subtle manner (is that an oxymoron - 'subtly stands out'?), rather than screaming, "Here I am - look at me!" Of course, there's more to a bicycle than looks, so it was time to get out and ride this little lady.

Before I get into the actual ride I would like to note that at 5' 3 3/4," I am probably about as short as a person would want to be for this bike, unless the individual has long legs. As you can see from the photos, the seat post is nearly all the way down, with only about 1/2" of post showing. I would say if a person is under 5'3", particularly if she has shorter legs, I'm not sure this particular bike will work. Proportionately, I do have shorter legs than torso (not absurdly so, but slightly shorter), so that may be beneficial to a person wondering about this 54cm frame size. I am also unable to touch the ground while sitting on the saddle (I like to have full leg extension, rather than be able to touch the ground), so if this is of importance to a rider, it's something to keep in mind.

But, getting back to the bicycle ride... The ride to breakfast has a variety of hills and flat land, but as a whole, the ride out is mostly a gradual incline, and for the most part is a slight downhill return. "Mostly" being the key word. I thought it would be a great test route because it does have hills (both up and down), flat land, and some slightly varying terrain depending on the route choice. As you'll soon read, however, I won't really be able to evaluate fairly the ride because I was distracted for most of it with other items. Beginning our ride, things weren't off to the best start. The Superba felt difficult to pedal and fairly heavy, which is odd considering I've owned far weightier bikes, and even the Hillborne is heavier in its current set up. I fully expect that a city bike won't ride the same as a road or touring bike, but I felt as though something was pulling me in the opposite direction (a severe dragging feeling), and I just felt very slow and as though I was putting forth a lot of effort with little results. I kept wondering what was wrong with me. Was I tired? Was it that I hadn't been on a bike for a few days? I struggled the entire short 4-mile ride out to our stopping spot. We discussed my problems over our morning meal while I tried to think of what could be wrong. Sam seemed to think that it was perhaps the chain because it was extremely tight when it arrived, leaving no give at all, or that perhaps it was the weight of the dynamo hub in the front, which does put a bit of drag on the wheel (though not nearly to the extent I was experiencing). I wasn't completely convinced it was the hub because I've had bikes with the same type of hub and not had issues. The chain? Well, I honestly couldn't say if that was causing problems.

On Sunday, the house mechanic (aka Sam) had some additional time to spend with the Bella Ciao. He was able to get a bit of give (relaxed some of the tension) in the chain, and fix some of the noises that were taking place (the chain was dragging inside the chainguard, driving me absolutely insane, and there was some clicking in the crank), likely from shipment and movement of parts during this process. All of the rattles and strange noises were resolved with his tweaking, and I was happy that the Bella Ciao wasn't as noisy as it started out to be the day prior. A couple of laps around the block and I could see that it was more of what I'd expected from this bicycle, however, that dragging feeling still hadn't disappeared. To date, I still haven't quite figured out what it is. It's possible that I've just grown used to riding the Hillborne and the Pacer and I need to re-adjust my mindset for a city bike again, or perhaps there is actually something taking place here that we haven't quite determined as of yet.

The odd thing to me regarding this initial impression is that I generally either immediately love or completely dislike a bicycle the first time I ride it (of course this can change over time), but after the first ride, I was left feeling a bit ambivalent. I also don't know that I can offer a fair initial assessment of this bike because of our rocky start, and I cannot help but feel guilty writing anything even remotely negative about the Bella Ciao. I suppose in my head I don't really view it as "negative" impressions, but rather just initial feelings, and my thoughts of being unsure of this bike during my first experiences with it. I think that I, more than anyone, am surprised by my feelings about the Bella Ciao, and hope that more riding will prove to remedy any doubt about this bicycle.

Some of what I found most enjoyable about the Superba during our inaugural ride was the riding position. It's nice to have that more upright posture again, as I have missed having that over the last few months. I also love the saddle selection of the Brooks B-72. I've had this particular model on bicycles in the past, and I have found it to be one of my favorite saddles for the appropriate bike, such as this one. Also, although they are perhaps not the most beautiful thing on this bike, I appreciate that the pedals are a kind of grippy/non-slip pedal, so I am able to ride if my shoes are wet or get into the snow (such as was the case on the day we rode).

I should also state that I am merely sharing my initial feelings/experience with this bike, and others who have ridden this bike, and those who own this bike absolutely loved it from the start, which just goes to show that individuals have different ride styles, opinions, and experiences. What is great for one person may not be the same for another, and vice versa. It's also nice to be able to test ride a bicycle on multiple occasions to have first impressions before committing to a specific bicycle, though I certainly was aware of the potential risk in buying without test riding. Additionally, after some more tweaks, I may absolutely love this bicycle and wonder what I was so worried about initially. It's difficult to know after one fairly short ride, and my experience has been that rarely does a bicycle arrive perfectly suited for me. Adjustments almost inevitably follow any initial ride, and I will freely admit that I tend to be rather finicky about the way my bike is set up, so it can take a good deal of time for me to find comfort on a new bicycle.

I am intentionally avoiding discussing the specific components on this bicycle in my first thoughts because I really don't think I've had enough time with the Superba to comment on elements such as lighting, braking, functionality, and so on. This is not to say that I find them in any way bad or unusable, but simply that I haven't had the time with the Bella Ciao to form even basic opinions. Over time, I believe I'll feel more comfortable discussing these areas, but for now, as I had promised initial thoughts, I wanted to offer those up (for what they may be worth - which, probably isn't much).

Above all, I believe the Bella Ciao Superba is a beautiful bicycle and Velouria did a great job with her color selection, rear rack, and design. Though I am aware my first impressions may not seem overly encouraging or positive to an individual considering this bike, I hope that anyone thinking about purchasing the Bella Ciao (or any bike) will take the time to explore on their own and determine whether or not this will be a good choice for him/her. Certainly, I am not speaking for a large population of bicycle riders, but rather in regard to my first experiences with the Bella Ciao. I am also not stating that I dislike the Superba by any means, but rather that our short initial ride together was not my most pleasant first ride on a bicycle.

I do, however, look forward to spending more time with the Superba and determining whether or not she is a good fit for me. If anyone has had the opportunity to ride this bike, or if you have thoughts on what the dragging sensation might be, I'm hoping you'll chime in with your thoughts, as I don't want anyone to think that my short initial ride is by any means what everyone will experience, nor what I will find to be true in the long term. I look forward to sharing more as the rides continue.

Fixated on Single Speeds

I have found a new fixation within my bicycle obsession (Who knew there could be sub-obsessions within the overall, huge obsession of bikes?). I really am starting to wonder if I need some sort of therapy when it comes to always thinking about another bike... but then I realize that there are far worse things I could be obsessed with, and it's not as though I buy every bike I see, so it can't be that bad, can it? Anyway, this fixation/obsession seems to have come to the forefront over the last several months. Prior to that time, I would look at single speeds and equate them with a certain sort of person (which I certainly am not, on many counts). I have a visual image of a hipster-like (male or female), who is uber thin, and just has that super cool look about them (for lack of better terminology). I suppose that's more the "fixie" crowd in reality, but I also think the majority of people lump these two styles of bicycles into one category, despite the fact that they are different.

The Bianchi Via Condotti
**Image from Bianchi

I will confess, it was actually a fixed gear bicycle that first caught my eye. The Bianchi Via Condotti was so gorgeous that I couldn't help but be drawn to it. The classic Celeste color that Bianchi is known for, the simplified design... how could a person not drool over this bicycle (or at minimum appreciate its beauty)?

Soon after seeing this bike, I was parking bikes at a bike valet station and happened to be the person who took a Giant Bowery from a young lady who was headed in to an event. I was amazed at how light the bike was (of course, most bikes are light to me when I normally truck around on a 40 lb bicycle), and again, couldn't help but find fascination in the simplified design.

2009 Giant Bowery SS
**Image from Jack's Bikes

Her bike just happened to be a model that is a couple of years old, and it seems as though they've changed the design since then, but seeing this bike lit some sort of fire in me and I've found myself drawn to the single speeds, trying to determine differences in price points, and (perhaps the most important of all the thoughts) trying to decide if it's something I would actually use.

I've gone to the traditional sources for information such as Sheldon Brown and articles on Bike Forums, such as this, but I think the more I read, the more confusing it all becomes. When one question gets answered, it often creates two more, creating this never ending search for information.

One thing I have discovered from personal experience is that the low positioned drop bars definitely don't work for my hands, so the standard look of many of these bicycles wouldn't likely be functional for me over the long term. In that sense, it might be better to simply build my own single speed. I could obtain a used or new frame fairly inexpensively and utilize many spare parts that are just lying around the house. Plus, I could pick the parts that I want and build it up over time. One of the frames that caught my eye as a possibility for a single speed build was actually a Surly Cross Check.

2011 Surly Cross Check frame
**Image from Surly

While it isn't necessarily what one typically thinks of for a single speed bicycle, it is a possibility, although it would be a heavier frame/fork than some of the other options out there. I do like Surly products though, and I don't object necessarily to a little added weight when it could bring some stability to the ride. The frame and fork come in somewhere around 6-7 lbs, which doesn't seem too bad, depending on how heavy wheels and other parts become.

Some might ask, "Why a single speed?" Well, I've asked myself this question, and really it's the same reasoning most others provide. 1) I like the simplicity of not having gears. Regardless of how comfortable I am with shifting a bike, there is always some thought behind it (when to do it, how often, am I in the right gear for the situation, etc). 2) It's reminiscent of childhood... a time when most of us had a single speed bicycle that we had to stand up to pedal up the hills (and sometimes get off and walk up the hills, depending on how long ago childhood was, and how heavy those bikes were during childhood). 3) It's a challenge. I like the idea of having to push myself in some parts of town to get around, using only my own power. While I do this with a multi-speed bicycle as well, I think there is another level present in a single speed.

For now, this fixation remains just that, as I have no immediate plans in the works to start this kind of project. It is something I would like to pursue at some juncture in time, but for now, it will have to wait. I would, however, be interested to know if anyone else has purchased whole or built a single speed, and would be curious to know details of how you picked your bike and/or parts.