Finding Joy Again on a Bike

Lately, I’ve turned into quite an asshole on the bike. I came to this realization several weeks ago when I heard myself yelling out loud while riding regarding something that normally wouldn’t have made me think twice (or at least, my response is one I would’ve said under my breath under normal circumstances). I don’t know if it’s Covid-quarantine related or that I’ve been riding more and therefore observing more bad behavior, or if I really am just turning into a complete turd of a human, but I’m not liking the person I’ve been over the last few months on a bike.

I should clarify a bit. I still wave at people as I go by, and ask seemingly-stranded cyclists on the side of the road if they need assistance, but I have found myself taking on a somewhat “roadie” attitude in certain situations, and I think it’s happened slowly over several months, without consciously being aware of what was taking place.

Admittedly, I have used cycling as therapy during the pandemic, even more so than I normally would. Since going under stay at home/safer at home orders in mid-March, there have been only a handful of days that I haven’t been on a bicycle. Distances have also been longer than usual because I’ve found that I need the structure of having some sort of goal to achieve when I have little actual work that needs to be completed right now. I have always thought of myself as one who really doesn’t need to be around other humans very often, but even those of us who are okay being alone (I am learning) have been affected by this longer-than-anticipated time of staying apart. Little things that used to be a routine and very normal have now disappeared from life and I think it’s affecting me more than I initially thought it was.

One weekend morning I was preparing to go for a ride. Sam had been feeling flu-ish the week prior and had self-quarantined while waiting for his corona virus test results to come back from the state. He had thought it best to not go outside of the house, just in case, and was trying to separate as much as possible even inside the house. He was out in the garage riding on his trainer when I was leaving and I sat at the opposite side of the garage on the weight bench, whining about not wanting to ride.

“Don’t go then,” he said, as he pedaled away, Zwift screen in front of him.

“I feel some sort of obligation to do mileage right now. I don’t know why. I know it’s all self-imposed, but I feel like I’ve put some sort of pressure on myself to ride pretty much every day,” I responded. “I feel like I’ve already burned out, and it’s still summer.” (It was still summer at the time anyway.)

My bike was sitting, leaning against one of the second-hand acquired workout machines in the makeshift gym in the garage. I stared at the bike as though it was the enemy, dreading going out to pedal.

I continued, “My knee hurts so bad. My neck is killing me because I spend so much time leaned over between riding and working. I just don’t feel like going.”

Sam responded, “Why don’t you take the Rivendell instead and just go for an upright cruise?”

Oddly, I had been thinking about this recently. In late winter, we’d put my rear rack back on the Hillborne and re-attached the giant basket so that I could use it for commuting to sub-teaching jobs without having to carry things on my back, but I hadn’t had any jobs that were farther than walking distance since that set up was put in place and then, of course, classes were cancelled shortly after anyway so I never got to test out the set up other than around the block.

“I could do that,” I said, “I guess I’ll give that a go — Just do a short one.”

I swapped out bikes, pumped up the tires on the Rivendell, caught a glance of myself in a reflective surface and paused for a moment. I looked ridiculous, dressed in a Specialized jersey, Velocio bibs, POC helmet, now heading out to ride a lugged, steel bicycle, with upright handlebars that is obviously set up for commuting/errand running purposes. I sighed, but didn’t want to change, so headed out the back feeling as though I looked like an absolute fool.

“Ugh. There’s no Garmin mount on this bike,” I said aloud. I had taken it off a couple of years ago, wanting to have a break from recording every ride. I started the timer anyway and threw the Garmin in the front bag. It was running, I just wouldn’t be able to see it. Maybe that was a good thing though.

I was agitated early on. I could feel that I didn’t have the power/speed on the Rivendell that I would normally have on my road bike, but I quickly nipped the attitude and reminded myself that I was out to enjoy the ride, not to beat any records. I was amazed that this year really seemed to be turning my cycling attitude into something I never expected, and certainly not something that is positive, in my opinion.

I rode. It took a few miles, but eventually my mind calmed, I didn’t feel like I was racing with anyone (including myself) and I actually looked around me, taking in the sights I see near-daily, but never take the time to truly appreciate most of the time as of late. It was eye-opening, to say the least.

I’ve always believed that riding is good for the soul, that it can heal emotional wounds and help the mind work through troublesome thoughts, but it had been quite awhile since I’d taken a ride just for pleasure, without staring down at average speed or distance. It was almost an uncomfortable position to find myself, but as I allowed myself to just be, I realized how much I miss these rides — The rides taken for no reason at all, to nowhere, with no goals in front of me other than to exist and to pedal. I smiled more, I waved more and as I settled in, I realized how much I’d missed this bike.

Although I know I probably won’t ride a ton of these sorts of rides on the Rivendell, it was an excellent reminder to me that it’s okay to slow down, to go for a short ride, to look up and see what is around. Since then, I’ve tried to allow myself at least one ride each week that is intentionally slower, that allows my mind to wander a bit more, and it’s been a welcomed relief. I don’t know if it’s necessarily improved my attitude the rest of the time, but I’m still working on that. Maybe I just need to be a little kinder to myself overall — and sometimes to others — and know that we’re all going through our own stuff, dealing with it in our own way.

Taking this ride also helped get me through my burnout phase. I was getting worried that I wouldn’t make it to the end of the year, that I’d have to give up pedaling for awhile in order to be happy riding again. In reality, I think I just needed a mental (and maybe a little bit of a physical) break from constant pushing… and getting to “rediscover” an old riding buddy was an extra bonus. I’m happy plodding along now, pushing some days and relaxing and enjoying others, which has definitely made a world of difference.

First Impressions of a Steel Road Bike: The Rivendell Roadini

In prior posts, I've mentioned that over this past winter I was on the hunt for a dedicated road bike. The biggest problems I faced were my preference for a steel frame and that I really wanted a bike that would accept at least a 32mm tire. Although custom options are available, it always surprises me how few choices there really are in an era of bicycles becoming more wide-tire-centric. After trying out an "adventure bike" made of titanium, I wasn't sure what I wanted to do, but I had been eyeballing the Rivendell Roadini with mild curiosity.

Despite being unconvinced it was the right bike for me, after riding my Riv Sam Hillborne nearly exclusively for solo paved rides over several months, I began to think that maybe it was not only a plausible but potentially smart option. For a Rivendell, the cost was somewhat reasonable and I could build it with up to 35mm tires. It met the steel requirement too, however, I wasn't convinced that it would actually ride like a fast road bike.

My desire was for something that felt swift (since I'm not a fast rider, being able to feel like my effort is producing something is important to me) and responsive -- not to have a duplicate of the Hillborne. The goal for whatever bike came into my life was to fulfill my want to occasionally ride solo and not feel as though I'm weighted down by anything other than my own lack of capability.

Secondarily, but also of great importance was to have a road bike that was comfortable or at least tolerable on road rides. I've owned far too many road bikes that were incapable of providing the comfort I always seem to be seeking. Between hands (and other body parts) going numb, to improper fit, I was fed up with road bikes that hurt.

The one bit I was hung up on in regard to moving forward with purchasing the Roadini was the fact that in the smallest size (that I would require), the bike takes 650b wheels. I don't have a problem with the wheel size in general (after all, we own several 650b-wheeled bikes in our home), but there is not a huge selection of road wheels in that size that accept rim brakes. I didn't want to end up with something that I'd be struggling to find parts to complete or to end up with inferior parts because there wasn't another option. While custom wheel builds are a possibility, it's nice to just be able to buy a wheelset off the shelf.

But, after several debates about whether this was a good option and looking around to see what else would potentially fit my desires and budget, I opted to take the plunge and see how this bike would do for me.

If you don't have interest in the parts build of this bike, feel free to skip down below, but for those who have the desire to know, here is the build:

- 47cm Rivendell Roadini frame/fork
- Pacenti 650b wheelset
- Shimano Ultegra R8000 11- speed shift/brake levers
- Shimano Ultegra R8000 crank (170mm, 50/34)
- Shimano Ultegra Bottom Bracket (BBR60, 68mm)
- Shimano M7000 SLX 11- speed cassette (11-40t)*
- Shimano XT rear derailleur*
- Tektro R559 brake calipers (unlike what was recommended on the Riv website, the smallest sized frame needs the longer reach of these or an equivalent)
- Continental Sport Contact 650b x 32mm tires (that are strangely marked as 650c tires)
- Compass Randonneur handlebars (42mm)

All told, with the Brooks saddle and flat pedals, the bike weighed in at just over 22 pounds.

*So, I have to note here that it is unlikely many bike shops would offer or attempt this setup, but fortunately for me, the in-house mechanic is used to my strange requests and is willing to try just about anything. I prefer a triple set up in order to get up steeper hills/mountains in our location; however, I have found that a double makes me ride a bike more like a road bike (meaning, I tend to push myself a bit more when I know I don't have the gears to fall back on). Still, I wanted to have some of the range I would get from a triple, so we decided to try out an 11-40 cassette and used a mountain rear derailleur to get everything to cooperate. This setup required the use of an extra long chain (I believe it took 118 links) and also required this little gadget in order to get things to communicate/shift properly.

Not mentioned above in the build is the quill stem. I know this is something that often brings about debate in the cycling world. It's not an item I take particular issue with; however, I will say that one of the huge annoyances with a quill is figuring out the right reach. Since I've owned several (too many, really) quill-necessary bikes over the years, we have several options in the parts bin. For those who don't have that luxury, it's important to know personal fit to be able to determine the right measurement on the first try, or you may end up purchasing (or exchanging) several sizes to find the correct one (not to mention the annoyance of removing the brifters and the handlebars in order to change the stem).

I did not choose the correct length for the first round build. Thinking that too short a reach would have the bike feeling squeezed, I opted for an 80mm, but it turned out that was far too long for me and it was immediately exchanged for a 60mm in the stash, which feels nearly perfect.

Of note with this particular Rivendell is its lack of the company's typical lugs. While there are some (seat cluster), the cost savings on this frame comes at a loss of all those beautiful lugs. I was perfectly willing to accept this, but for those who need to have every joint lugged, a look at the Roadeo or potentially a custom option is probably a better bet, though those options come at a much higher price.

With the bike built and ready to ride, all I had to do was actually go out and use it. After some delays due to out-of-town visitors and other various happenings, I was finally able to get the bike out on the road.

As I had anticipated, I was not particularly fast on this ride - but I had doubts that it was the fault of the bike, but rather my own lack of pushing myself over the prior couple of years when it comes to speed. Part of my hope for this bike is that I would actually want to ride it and therefore speed would come back to me over time with regular use.

What I did notice on this inaugural 30+ mile ride was that I was not in pain, and dare I say it, even comfortable. No doubt, having the wider-than-usual road bike tire played a role in that, but I also think my body just likes the way Rivendells ride. I've had success with the Sam Hillborne (obviously) and it's difficult to get me off the tandem, not to mention the others that have blown in and out over the years.

From Rivendell, I have ridden at various points the Sam Hillborne, A. Homer Hilsen, Betty Foy, Cheviot (which is much the same bike as the B Foy), Saluki, Hubbuhubbuh, and the made-for-Soma San Marcos. So, at this point, I think it's safe to say that they just make bikes I like. Likes aside, other than the San Marcos, none of these have ever felt road-bike specific, which isn't to say that any of them can't be ridden on the roads, but rather that they lacked the pickup and lightweight that is often expected of a road-specific bike. My biggest issue with the San Marcos was simply the size - it was just a bit too big to ride long distances with drop handlebars (for me) unless I hiked them up to a ridiculous level, which then changed the handling of the bike.

For me, the real test with a new bike comes around the fourth or fifth ride. It's easy to let the excitement of a new bike take over and sometimes I don't notice things that become apparent a little later in the relationship. About the fifth ride on the Roadini, I became keenly aware that I neither feel fast nor am I physically fast on this bike. Granted, as stated prior, the rider is not particularly gifted with the ability for speed regardless of the bike, but I was averaging even slower times than I had been on the Sam Hillborne. Minimally slower (which may have been the fault of the rider and not the bike), but still slower.

This frustrated me entirely. I came home whining to Sam about how slow I am, but he was convinced that it was all in my head. Not that I was making up the speeds I was traveling, but rather he believes that I get it in my head that I'm slow and then actually make it reality. It's probably a fair assumption, but I truly believed I was pushing myself, so it was all the more painful (mentally) to realize that I was actually slower on a road bike than on a bike meant for carrying luggage.

Sam theorized that perhaps lowering my handlebars would help put me in a better power position and that this, rather than the bike, had been what was slowing me down. So, the next time out, I lowered my handlebars about an inch or so and set out to test his idea. While I could feel that I was using bigger leg muscles that in theory should bring more power (and therefore speed), I didn't actually average much faster speed. Bummer.

What I realized after testing this bike is that it is a lighter version of the bike I already owned and that my initial supposition that it would ride similarly was absolutely correct. While theoretically the Roadini fits better than the Hillborne with the shorter top tube that allows for the use of drop bars, it just wasn't going to meet my wants in regard to a swifter feeling/pedaling road bike.

Back to a triple setup here... it really is a lovely bicycle!

What's great about the Roadini is that it is supremely comfortable! It pedals smoothly and rides the way one would expect a Rivendell to behave. If I were looking for a completely comfortable road/light adventure type of bicycle, this would definitely be on the list of possibilities because of these qualities. Unfortunately, I had high hopes for this steed to behave more like a road-race bike (a rather silly thing to think based on what the creator believes and manufactures), so it just isn't the right fit for my stable at this time.

Although I think the Roadini is a fine bicycle, I had to let it move on to someone else to enjoy and I hope it will find the use it deserves in its new home. Of course, that put me back on the hunt for something else that would fill the missing slot in my stable. It's as though the quest to find the "right" road bike remains elusive; but in the meantime, I've continued to ride my trusty Hillborne and have been riding a mountain bike (a post is forthcoming on that steed soon as well) a lot more regularly.

I've read on a couple of forums that people are truly loving this model from Rivendell, so if you've had the opportunity to test it out, I'd love to know what you think of the bike. I think if I didn't already have the Hillborne settled in, I would've definitely hung on to this one.

Potato Diaries, Days 5-7: Connecting Loose Ends and Finally Riding in Boise

I've ended up combining days five through seven together here. I just couldn't get to posting and I've had some issues with connectivity on the computer, so it is what it is. But, here we are now. Three days, smashed together. If you've missed out on the prior posts, Day 1 is here, Day 2 is here, Day 3 is here and Day 4 can be found here.

Day Five:

I keep saying that I have plans to get to Boise to ride, and it just never seems to happen. For one reason or another, there's always an excuse not to get there. Now, time is slipping away and I don't want to miss out on riding in the actual city before I'm gone. Not that I can't or won't return, but it would be nice to actually ride there during this trip.

Yesterday, I was supposed to go into Boise to ride. That didn't happen. The day just got away from me and it was one of those when an hour feels like a minute. Those days are rough because nothing seems to get accomplished. Since things were moving a bit fast, I decided to go back and further explore the Nampa greenway system to try to make some sense of it.

An earlier post highlighted the fact that the map I received shows not only the path that is currently constructed, but also future plans for the greenway. I wanted to see how well the current version works and if the actual greenway is less confusing than the map makes it seem.

The plan was to ride from one side of the city to the other, hopefully only using the greenway, but that didn't quite work out. From the southeast side of the city to the northwest side, there are several locations that drop off suddenly. One of the connections uses surface streets, but the main artery is actually on a very busy road (it's a highway that turns into a street in the city, and spans five lanes through town) and users really find themselves sticking to the sidewalk unless they want to take a pretty great risk of getting hit on the road (I did see one person doing this, so it's not impossible). There are several cars pulling out of parking lots too, so riding on the sidewalk is probably just as potentially dangerous.

One part of the Nampa trail system. The dotted lines indicate future pathways, but unfortunately the map doesn't seem to be entirely accurate and it also leaves riders and walkers in random places without directions in certain spots.

As I was trying to calculate where to go (the signs are somewhat usable, but seem to be placed in areas that make it a little difficult to find them in some spots), I was pedaling on the road and saw a woman in front of me who looked vaguely familiar, but I passed it off as a coincidence. This happens often when I travel. I frequently see people who look like other people I know, so I tend to not make much of these situations.

As we came closer together the woman smiled and said, "Hey! Dog lady!" Realizing that she recognized me too, I took a better glance. It was the same woman who had stopped on Day 3 to help find the owner of the loose dogs roaming the street. We had a very brief conversation and off I went, still trying to connect to the next portion of the path. Had I had any sort of awareness, I should've asked the woman I'd just been talking to, but that hadn't occurred to me in the moment.

Eventually, I found a path again - whether it was what I was looking for or not, I'm still not entirely certain. But, then I was soon back on roads again as it just dumped me in the middle of nothing. I ended up riding the streets for awhile and then heading back to the house.

Ultimately, there are several sections of the Nampa trail that seem to drop off into nothingness. It's unfortunate because it seems like a great way to actually get through this area, but at the present time, it appears to have limitations for usability throughout different parts of the city.

Day 6:

The plan (as had been the plan for several days to this point) was to get the dogs worn out early so that I could go and ride in Boise. I took an extra amount of time to ensure that they would be nice and tired so that leaving them for a few hours wouldn't be a huge deal. Unfortunately, my plan seemed to backfire and when we returned from what should've been an exhausting walk for the dogs, they seemed to have more energy than before we left. Ugh. My plan to shape up these two little pups was definitely working against me.

Instead, I took the dogs with me to Boise and figured we could walk the greenway together and get an idea of what it's like. Plus, I figured if it didn't seem like a good place to ride, I could always choose another spot when I came back without them.

The timing of our arrival could not have been worse though. We arrived to the greenway just about the time everyone was going to lunch, so there were walker, joggers and cyclists everywhere. On one hand I thought this was so fantastic. To have such a great space that so many people want to use is truly wonderful; however, I had three dogs pulling in three different directions and people trying to pass us, especially those on bicycles, weren't too happy with attempting to avoid running over the dogs.

Boise Green Bike docking station on the greenway. What a perfect place to have these for visitors and locals alike!

I noticed right away that Boise's bike share has a dock on the greenway (and several others as well). If only I could've thrown the three dogs on the bike with me, things would've been so much easier!

It's so cool to see a large river running right through a city. I know there are other cities with large rivers, but it's been awhile since I've experienced something like this firsthand.

There was so much green all around. This had been what I remembered of Boise from years ago, so it was exciting to see that the green still very much remains. Green and more green was definitely the theme. That and people. Lots and lots of people.

The Boise Greenbelt path ... and a Golden Retriever who just couldn't resist staying out of my photo. I took advantage of the brief moment when there weren't people passing in every direction.

The pathway itself is really nice too. There are spots that are in need of some repair, but I think that's a typical find on most MUP's of any significant length. Overall, it seemed to be in pretty decent shape and the fact that there are so many outlets to get users to various destinations around the city is truly fantastic.

Although I really wanted to explore the path more on foot, the dogs were being particularly bad, so I knew that the trip was going to get wrapped up quickly, unfortunately. We said our goodbye to Boise and headed away from all the people and the green.

Day 7:

A week in, and I was pretty convinced that riding in Boise just wasn't going to happen. The universe seemed to be working against me. Today, it was supposed to rain, so that didn't bode well. I don't mind riding in the rain, but it's also been quite windy, so I wasn't sure if I wanted to venture out into that sort of weather. Still, I was determined, so I went to work wearing out the pups and then prepared to get on my way to Boise to ride -- finally.

I got all that I would need together and went to grab the bike. I figured I should probably check the air pressure in the tires (since I hadn't checked it on any of the other rides), but when I went to attach the nozzle, I realized the front tire was completely flat.

Dammit, I thought. The old me would've freaked out and decided it was a bad omen and skipped the ride, but new me decided that this wasn't a big deal (because it isn't) and at least it happened at home so that I could take my time and not have to worry about it on the side of the road. Still, I have pretty puncture proof tires, so the fact that I got a flat was a little annoying. I can't even remember the last time I had a flat on this bike with these tires.

Deep down, I knew it was a goathead without even looking at the tire. Damn you Idaho and your thorny little spiky weeds. We have them at home too, but they seem to be everywhere here in much greater numbers. As I changed the flat I couldn't help but think that Sam would be so proud. There was a time when I would've been calling him crying about the flat tire and telling him I couldn't deal with it. He would've had to talk me off a ledge and then I would've used it as an excuse to avoid riding.

As it turned out, it was in fact a goathead that had broken off and was poking through just the very smallest amount, but enough to puncture the tube. Like I said, I knew what the issue was without even finding it.

The Boise River

Finally, I was off and headed to Boise. I ended up arriving just about the same time as I had with the dogs the day prior, but it would be far less difficult to maneuver through people on a bike than it was with three dogs at my side (or not at my side as the case was).

My plan was to ride a good portion of the greenway and then head off around the city and possibly up into the foothills. It was probably a little ambitious, but I really wanted to see as much as possible of the city while I was there.

Cottonwood fluff -- This was not even close to the worst of it, but I took this picture while I was stopped so that there would be some kind of photo reference.

The first thing I noticed were the enormous number of Cottonwood trees. We have these at home as well and when they are blooming it is one of the most horrible things to deal with for allergy sufferers. Plumes of white fluff littered the pathway and air. My eyes and throat were definitely feeling it.

Nothing would deter me from my ride today though. Not allergies, nor rain or wind, or flat tires.

Remember that lovely Boise bikeway map I'd picked up a few days earlier? That map that was going to see me all around the city and help me out if I happened to get lost? Yep. I left it sitting on the counter at the house. So, I was on my own and knew I'd have to figure out how to connect to places using whatever was available on the trail system.

Different types of river and pond-use items can be rented in this spot.

This greenway in Boise is really a treat to ride. There are so many things going on in various areas and I should've taken far more photos than I did, but you'll just have to take my word for it that it's not only beautiful, but a great spot for all ages to use and hang out. There are different little pond areas, beach areas, spots where people kayak and use stand up paddleboards. People fishing, swimming, using rafts or other flotation devices were all over too. There is even a little shop that rents different river-use products and a place to grab a bite to eat. Frankly, I couldn't help but be a bit jealous that there are so many possibilities in such a central location in the city.

People were "surfing" in this area of the river

Tried to get a photo of one of the surfers, but he was a bit too far away for a decent picture

When I passed one area of the river, I noticed a lovely area where people were "surfing" in the river. Who would've thought? I guess when you want to surf and you're not on a coast, you make things work.

Another really cool feature of the greenway were signs that directed people toward various attractions around the city such as art, food, and other things people would want to see or do. The city (or I suppose county, as I've been told the system is taken care of by Ada County) does a great job of making this a very user-friendly system. There were a couple of times when I wasn't entirely sure what direction to go, but it also didn't matter as I really just wanted to explore the area.

As I continued to ride, things got a little more quiet. I wasn't seeing quite as many people, though there were still walkers, joggers and cyclists to be found. I thought it was extremely pleasant that the majority of the greenway has a lot of trees, so there are few times when there are long stretches of being exposed to the sun.

Continuing on, I wasn't really sure where I was or when the path would end (Note to self: Remember the map next time and you won't have this problem!), but since it was still going, I decided to keep on riding.

I couldn't help but wonder if there were snipers in the bushes, waiting to shoot at me as I rode through this area

Then, things changed. There weren't as many trees and I was exposed much more to the sun. The path was still going though, so I persevered. Signage changed and then became non-existent. Where was I exactly? I hadn't traveled that far. At that point, I was only about 13 miles from my starting point.

The map told the story later - I had wandered into another city.

When I got home later, I would realize that I was almost in Eagle, which is just outside of Boise. Had I continued on about another mile, I would've hit the end of the path, but at that point I was concerned that I needed to get back to the pooches, so I started heading back to the start. I would loved to have had more time to explore. The other side of the river has an entire other stretch of path, and there is a portion that runs farther south-east as well. All told, I believe I read there are approximately 45 miles of pathway to run, walk, and ride. Pretty cool.

Having water next to me for nearly the entire stretch of the ride was really quite a nice feature. At home, there are several cities that have waterways and MUPs that run parallel, but I don't think any are quite like this, even in Denver. Though, the Cherry Creek path is awfully nice and nearly as long, it still can't compare to what is available to users along the Boise River greenway.  Of course, Denver is a completely different city that has built up in a way that made sense for the area.

If I had more time, I would like to have the opportunity to explore Boise more by bike and to ride up to Bogus Basin. I received word that my folks have wrapped up their to-dos and should be home late Friday evening, so I don't know if I'll have that opportunity on this trip -- but, there's always next time. I have one more day to see what I can in this area, so whether it's on foot or bike, I look forward to another day outside.

Potato Diaries, Day Three: On a Mission to Rivendell

As I wrap up day three of wandering in Idaho (if you have interest, day 1's entry is here and day 2's post is here), I'm starting to feel a little more relaxed. Things that were unnerving initially (such as the lack of space to ride next to cars), are less so now. Which isn't to say that the roadways aren't severely lacking, but I think - as with most things in life - we adapt to our surroundings and figure out ways to make it work.

We've done a great deal of walking since arriving (we being myself and the three dogs), and it's taken a toll on my hips, so I knew that today would need to be more activity on wheels than on foot. The dogs were grateful for a break too, though we did take a short walk this morning, just so they didn't feel completely neglected.

As mentioned yesterday, I picked up a map of the Nampa trail/path system and decided that today would be a good day to try to piece together what I could to get to a destination on the other side of the city. The pathway, that I mentioned in an earlier post, runs through my folks neighborhood and has a forking off point about a mile up the path. As it turns out, this direction is well suited to actually connecting to places people want to go.

The bike map leaves something to be desired though. Perhaps my expectations are a little off, but I find that when using a bike map, I want it to be easy to read quickly so that I don't have to spend much time staring at it while riding (or stopped on the side of a road/path somewhere). There seems to be a lot of future MUP information on the map, which at quick glances can be confusing. Though the legend does indicate the differences between currently available paths and planned paths, it's something that takes some time to decipher.

Personally, I think future plans should be left off of maps like these as it can be confusing to users. Perhaps a website notation for people to be able to see where the paths will go in the future would be better, but placing them on the map just causes users to think the path is already there -- especially when, like me, one doesn't bother to look at the legend for differences in path lines.

Anyway, I had a specific destination in mind when leaving on bike this morning. I had noticed a road that was called "Rivendell Court" on an online map and the wheels in my tiny brain started to turn. I couldn't help but find it interesting that I happen to be riding my Rivendell bicycle on this trip, so wouldn't it be fun to get a picture of the Rivendell bicycle on Rivendell Ct? It's the little things that both motivate and amuse me, I suppose.

Since the road is on the opposite side of the city, it seemed a good opportunity to attempt to piece together information from the bike map with roads that would get me to Rivendell.

There is green to be found, despite what I'd initially thought. There are still a lot of dry, tan colors to be seen too, but it seems the green and brown seem to stick to their individual areas.

The pathway is actually quite pleasant, on the whole. It winds around both farm areas and more planned (both newer and older) housing. It's interesting that this city can feel both rural and urban in a span of just a couple of miles, sometimes with the two literally abutting each other. For example, my parents purchased their home in a newer subdivision (less than 10 years old), but as I sit typing, I can see a huge farm and hear donkeys braying and cows mooing right across the street.

There were a ton of cats crawling all around this barn. I'm not sure if they call it home or if they were looking for food in the form of rodents and other critters.

The MUP, at least in sections, is in great shape but is also in need of some massive repairs in others. Like the roadways, it seems to be kind of hit or miss in regard to whether the path section is well maintained or not.

I had kind of an "aha!" moment today when a section of the trail dumped me out about a block from the nearest grocery store. It's great to explore a city by bicycle because I think things like this come together quicker in my mind and connecting roadways seems to become more obvious when riding. I have a pretty decent natural sense of direction, but not knowing a city's particulars, it can still be confusing in the early stages of getting to know it.

It got up to 92F degrees today, so the trees were especially welcomed!

There were breaks in the path that were a little confusing, but nothing that couldn't be figured out fairly easily - at least to the extent that I rode the path today.  When I arrived at a familiar road, I decided it was time to take city streets from that point and try to maneuver my way to Rivendell.

This is the widest shoulder I've come across thus far. The fact that there's any kind of shoulder is a novelty, but to have so much room was exquisite (plus, there was hardly any traffic)! I elected to ride on the cement portion though to give my hands a break from the chipseal for a short amount of time.

As mentioned prior, there are a ton of chipsealed roads here. This surface definitely doesn't do my already troubled hands any favors, and much of the time it feels like riding on miniature cobblestones. I can still feel my teeth chattering now hours after the ride. I was pleasantly surprised though to actually find a road that (although still chipseal) had a wide shoulder to ride in for some distance.

A couple of miles up this road, I happened upon a loose Golden Doodle. He was a massive dog that was galloping across the street. Back and forth he ran, as if he was chasing an invisible friend. As I got closer, there didn't seem to be anyone around who was responsible for this curly haired woofer, but there were several cars speeding up and down the street. Having concern for his safety, I turned around and tried to settle him on one side of the road.

Just as I was stopping, a vehicle pulled up beside and asked if the dog was okay. The people in the car said they would call the number on his tag as I had just spotted a very small, perhaps no more than 6-8 pound, dog on the opposite side of the street. The Doodle's "invisible" friend, I was guessing at this point.

"I assume they belong to the same person," I stated, half as a question, and went to corral the little dog.

When the owner arrived, he didn't seem at all concerned that his two dogs were out roaming the streets alone. I'm never quite sure what to make of these situations. If it was my dog out roaming, I'd hope that someone would call so that I could pick them up, but I think I'd have a bit more concern than this owner did. Oh well. At least they were back where they belong.

I continued on my mission, pedaling up some somewhat steep hills (though nothing in comparison to home in Colorado) and eventually arrived to Rivendell.

"It's real!" I exclaimed aloud, half surprised that Google maps wasn't trying to send me off on a wild goose chase.

It really does exist!!!

I pulled out the phone and snapped a photo of the Rivendell Sam Hillborne on Rivendell Court. The day's work was complete. The ride home was pleasant, though I will say the wind is nearly as bad here as it is at home, so the push against it was a bit of a struggle. Still the time in the saddle was enjoyable and I was happy to have made the short journey to find Rivendell. I had initially planned a longer route, but due to the hip situation and my forgetting to pack some food, the ride was cut shorter than planned.

When I arrived back at the house, I noticed something in the distance of the Rivendell photo that I hadn't seen while standing at the actual location. When viewing the left side of the photo, about half way up, just above the power lines, it looked to me as though there was a giant potato flying through the air.

I don't have my usual software to use here in Idaho, but I'm convinced this is a P-UFO or Potato UFO.

Okay, I know, I've got potatoes on the mind at the moment (speaking of, I haven't eaten a single potato since I've been here... I'll have to get to that soon!), but when I tried to crop it a bit and look at it closer, it does almost look like a potato UFO - but then again, my imagination tends to run away with me more often than not.

Tomorrow, the plan is to head into Boise to check some things out, assuming that my hips are doing better than they are today. I think it'll be fun to see the city again too. I spent a few days in Boise about 23 years ago -- the city is nothing like I remember it from that time. Sam and I also visited very briefly on our family trip here in April, but we didn't have bikes and didn't get to spend more than a few hours looking around, so I'm excited to have a little more time to investigate areas we didn't get to see.


**Day 4 can be found here.

All That Glitters

I freely admit that I have been more than a tad enamored with the tandem bicycle we picked up in the not-too-distant past. I spend a lot of free moments daydreaming about tandem rides, thinking about potentially picking up a race (or at least lighter weight) tandem at some point in the future, and smiling to myself about past rides we've shared together. It's a little sick - and not the good kind of sick.

I have no doubt much of it has to do with the newness of tandeming for us, but I feel as though everywhere I go I have to tell anyone who will listen about the awesome ride we had or how climbing a particular hill was so slow (still smiling though, because I can't help myself), or how the tandem is just sooooooo much fun. For those who have to hear it from me on a regular basis, I truly apologize. I'm not trying to be irritating, but I really have enjoyed this bike so much that it's hard not to want to share the excitement with others.

For those who keep wondering when I'm going to come down off of my tandem high, this is the story for you. Which isn't to say that I've come out of the euphoric bliss, but rather that this tale will be a brief respite from the annoyingly sugar-sweet, happy tales of riding tandem.

Sam and I had just finished our longest tandem ride to date. It was over 50 miles (80 km) and included a climb that I had never ridden, even on my own, so I was happily bouncing around, excited that we'd accomplished something that felt more significant and still arrived home feeling good about our tandem experience.

"Maybe we should try one of the club dirt rides sometime," I threw out as a suggestion later on that evening of our long ride. We both know that our tandem was not built for racing, fast rides, or anything of the sort, but the dirt rides tend to be slower with this group, so I thought that even if we couldn't keep up when climbing, we'd catch everyone on the flat and downhill portions.

As it happened, there was a ride taking place just two days later, so we decided to show up and hang with the single-bike dirt riders for the planned route. I was not personally aware of the specifics of the ride, but Sam had printed out turn-by-turn directions and had ridden this route with the group in the past, so we believed that when we fell behind we could be responsible for finding our way back to the rest of the group.

I have not ridden with this group in a number of years, so when we arrived at the meeting/starting location, I was surprised to see more all-road type bikes than I had in the past. I wasn't worried about keeping up with those on mountain bikes, but because the other riders were on road bikes with slightly wider tires, my concerns began to grow. Still, we had the power of two people, so I put my mild worries aside and chatted until everyone arrived. There were comments about the tandem and a couple of riders even wondered if we'd be able to complete the ride. I reassured all that we'd ridden on fire roads and dirt paths, so we should be just fine. We also informed the group that we had directions, so they needn't wait for us if, or likely when, we fell behind the pack.

As we started out, we dropped to the back as there were a couple of tight corners and I'm still not sure how to quite maneuver these gracefully (or often at all without stopping) on the tandem. But, we caught up to the back of the group fairly easily and were able to hold a few places behind for several miles as the paved path turned to dirt and then to gravel.

"They're riding awfully fast for the advertised speed, don't you think?" I asked of Sam. "We are going about 18-19 miles per hour and not quite catching them, and they said it would average 13-15."

Sam agreed that the speed was faster than either of us anticipated, but because Sam rides with this group more frequently than I do, he said this is just what tends to happen when one of the organizers isn't present to keep speed under control.

Sam and I chatted and noticed the last single rider in the pack would occasionally turn around to check on us and then assure the group that we were still within a reasonable distance. At times, we'd be right with them and at other moments we'd drop behind several lengths, but we were always within a catchable distance of the group.

Or, at least that's how things went for awhile.

As we rounded a corner, all of a sudden we were face-to-face with a steep hill. On a single bike, it would be more manageable, but hefting our 50(ish) pound tandem along with two bodies up it is more of a challenge. I started laughing and told Sam that this would be where we would lose everyone.

Still, despite our slow pace up the dirt climb, we weren't doing too badly. We reached a fork in the path at the top of the climb and Sam assured me that we should continue on to the portion of the path that led us straight ahead. So, we powered along, climbing a little more and eventually hitting the end of the trail.

Literally, there was no more path to continue on, so our choice was to cross the busy road or to turn around and go back the direction we'd just traveled. Sam believed that we were still going the right direction and assured me that we'd just be on the paved road for a short while, making a turn at a main intersection just ahead.

We rode on the paved surface for a couple of miles with Sam's assurance that we'd be turning back onto dirt in the near future. But, the more we rode, the more I worried. Where were we headed exactly? And how had we lost everyone so quickly? I knew they were pedaling at swift speeds, but this was perfectly open space on the road and I could see no other people on bicycles.

The biggest problem for me at this moment was that I was experiencing incredibly painful tailbone bruising from our longer ride just a couple of days prior. Because the tandem is on the large side for me and it sits quite upright (and, frankly, I haven't done a lot of longer distances on my own this year), I have found that I seem to experience tailbone issues over longer rides or during multiple days back-to-back. I'm sure it's something that can be sorted out with adjustments, but at the time, it was all I could focus on.

After a handful of miles, Sam and I agreed that we should make a turn at the next intersection if we did not cross the road we were looking for to continue on our path. Just as these words were uttered, the road appeared as if by some magical happening. We made our right turn and were confronted by a very large, locked gate to a neighborhood.

"I'm confused," I said aloud. "This is the correct road, right?"

Sam looked a bit perplexed as well. We dismounted the bike and decided to walk around to see if there was some sort of trailhead we may have missed.

"I guess we could just turn around and do our own thing?" I asked of Sam. "We could ride on the road and get back to a path we are familiar with."

We continued to look around and just as we turned and realized that there was in fact a trailhead just feet away from us, the rest of our riding group appeared.

I laughed out loud. "How did we end up in front of all of you?" I couldn't help but ask.

One of the riders said, "Didn't you hear us yelling for you at the fork in the path?"

Sam and I looked at each other. We hadn't heard anything during our own debate about which way to go, but apparently the group had been just a few yards away trying to get our attention. They assumed that we were trying to avoid the tight turns that were coming up and figured they'd meet up with us exactly where we did.

Feeling relieved that we were on the right path (and personally relieved that I hadn't had to navigate any sharp turns on the tandem), we prepared to follow the group again.

Everyone mounted and started off and we were close behind. For the first several yards, things went okay. The path was loose gravel which was tolerable, but it was also very worn in spots both of which were creating some traction issues. The tires we've been using work fine on paved surfaces or packed dirt and even a small amount of gravel, but when it gets too deep or loose with gravel or dirt, we tend to have problems. The path then quickly turned into deeply cut single-track and I began to panic.

I didn't have enough sense about me to take a photo of the actual trail, but this is a close approximate as far as the depth of what we were met with. From what I've been told, the trail typically isn't as bad as it was on this late-November day.
*Photo found here

My mind was telling me that we couldn't make it through and I continually worried about pedal strike against the packed sides. Combined with the feeling of responsibility for Sam's safety in the stoker position, I could feel my body tensing up quickly.

"We need to stop," I announced to Sam. I stuttered a bit, "I... I just don't think I'm comfortable with this."

We dismounted the tandem and looked at each other. The thought of continuing on was more than I could handle and I strongly implored Sam to agree to my request to turn around and head back. He concurred and we set back to find more navigable roads.

It seems simple enough - to turn around when the path was unsure - but I felt as though I had failed. We hadn't had a ride we couldn't complete together yet, and I was upset that I was unable to overcome my mental hesitation. My concern had been that the same type of path appeared to continue on endlessly (or at least as far as I could see) and the last thing I wanted was for either of us to end up injured. Still, it was disappointing to realize that there are limitations and that, at least for that moment, I was not comfortable proceeding on.

We continued our hike-a-bike back to the trailhead as my internal thoughts began to get the better of me. It was frustrating that I couldn't mentally force myself to continue on, but I had to remind myself that this is still a relatively new activity for us, and even on my own I would have been uneasy on this particular path.

As we reached paved roads again, my tailbone was really giving me trouble. I couldn't sit on the saddle any longer. Additionally, the wind had picked up and pedaling was taking more effort. We would stand for a bit and then get back into the saddle, but each time my backside hit the leather, pain would shoot through me. It felt as though we would never get home.

"I am NOT having fun," I announced (just in case it wasn't obvious). "This is the first ride we've been on with the tandem that I haven't enjoyed." I was tearing up. I couldn't help but wonder if this was going to be the end of riding tandem together. Maybe the newness of the tandem had been what kept us going and now we would start hating riding together? As we barreled down a hill to the highway that would lead us home, I let the tears freely fall. This felt like it could be our last ride. Between the tailbone pain that wouldn't stop and my inability to properly pilot the tandem through tougher terrain, I could already see the for sale sign gracing the side of this bike in the near future.

Sam suggested taking the most direct route home because of my physically obvious problems sitting. I just couldn't stop fidgeting in the saddle. We paused several times in order to give my tailbone a rest, but I knew that stopping was just prolonging the pain and the ride, so I did my best to power through the discomfort and make it home.

We had told the group of riders that we'd meet them back for coffee at the end of the ride, but it just wasn't in the stars. Sam suggested leaving a message for them later just to let them know that we were okay, as we did our best to get home swiftly.

When we arrived back home, Sam (ever with the quick wit) proclaimed with a smile, "Well, at least you didn't throw the tandem on the ground!"

He always knows how to make me laugh, even when I'm in pain. He was referring to a ride we'd gone on together (on single bikes) a few years ago that I believed I was unprepared physically to do. When I reached the point of exhaustion, I pulled off to the side, threw the bike into the dirt and announced that I never wanted to ride again (in fact, I even tried to give my bike away to passers-by on that ride). I have to say, it's nice to have a partner with a sense of humor in these situations!

Indeed, I hadn't tossed the tandem to the ground, but mentally I was concerned that this would be the end for me and riding tandem.

Fortunately, we had some time in between that day and our next ride which gave the soreness time to heal. We also didn't travel as far on our next outing which helped reinvigorate my enthusiasm and also illustrated that one bad ride, which we were ill-prepared to navigate on a tandem, didn't and doesn't mean that we won't continue to enjoy the bike.

Thankfully, we've had a handful of rides since then that have all gone well, so despite my belief that the demise of the tandem was imminent, I think my sickeningly-happy tales of riding the tandem will continue (I'll apologize now to those who have to hear these).

I'm grateful though for a more difficult ride - at least in some sense. In many ways, it forced me to look at the tandem more objectively and to realize that not every ride will be perfect, comfortable, happy, fast, enjoyable, and so on. Like any activity that is done repetitively, there are going to be bad moments, bad rides, or bad days. Those moments don't negate the positive, however, and they help me appreciate the good times just that much more.

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.