No Shirts, No Shoes, No Service

I love my rides. I even enjoy the challenges that go with biking long distances. I might complain —a lot (I like doing that too), but one of my favorite things about cycling is the independence that comes with it. I like that I’m capable of solving my own problems. I refuse to be a damsel in distress and I’ve proven time and time again that I am plenty capable of saving myself. I learn from every experience and when problems inevitably occur, it becomes less and less of a panic inducing emergency and becomes an easily resolved blip in my day.

Photo by Markus Spiske from Pexels

I’ve already told you about the flat tire I got on my first training ride. It wound up cutting my ride practically in half because it sucked the energy out of me. The odds of me getting another flat so soon after that first one were low, but I managed it (under completely different circumstances). I’m happy to say it didn’t completely ruin my day. This one I sort of saw coming. I was headed back to Somerville and realized when I went to throw my bike in the car that the front tire (The same one from before), was completely flat!

“I was more concerned with the fact that somehow I had another flat so soon after the first.”

I filled the tire when I got back to the apartment, but I was fairly sure it would be flat again the next day. It was. It seemed like a slow leak, so I had a quick debate and decided to go to the bike shop to buy a replacement inner tube instead of using one I had purchased for my trip. I was going to have to buy a replacement either way. I continued about my business and met up with Becca to edit my Kickstarter video. I wound up changing the tire in just over a minute in front of her apartment. I was more concerned with the fact that somehow I had another flat so soon after the first. I wondered if I’d pinched the tire the last time I changed it. Maybe I wasn’t quite as good at changing tires as I thought.

“It had been a full week and more than a hundred miles since the initial flat.”

It had been a full week and more than a hundred miles since the initial flat. The reason for this one quickly became evident. There was a shard of glass sticking out of my tire. I am generally pretty conscious of what I roll over, so this felt like a fluke. I was relieved.

The next incident I had I found thoroughly amusing. I’ve worn my bike shoes almost every time I’ve gone for a ride. I never really thought about shoe maintenance. There are two little bolts that hold the cleat on the shoe. Since I first adjusted them I hadn’t looked at them or touched them. If I’d used logic I might have thought they’d loosen over time. After all, I roller skate and I know I have to check the nuts and the toe stop every time I go out, otherwise I could hurt myself. The same goes for bike shoes evidently.

Now, don’t worry! I didn’t hurt myself. I went out on a ride, went to take my feet off the pedals, and only one foot came free. The other one was stuck. I was in a safe place and kept my balance, but I had to take off my shoe to free myself from the bike. With my foot out of the shoe I tried to wriggle it free, but it was not coming off. So, sitting on the asphalt in an unused parking lot on the bike path, I started googling the solution. The first few answers I found I didn’t like. Take off the pedal and put it in a vice grip. Nah. Not doing that. I don’t even own a vice grip.

Photo by Markus Spiske from Pexels

Finally I found the quick solution. With an Allen key you can use leverage to trigger the spring. I had my bike tool but quickly realized I couldn’t get the leverage I needed. The trouble with having my shoe stuck on the pedal was I couldn’t go inside a bike shop or hardware store to get the Allen key and solve the problem. No shirts, no shoes, no service. I was only five minutes away from my apartment, so I went home and grabbed the tool from my toolbox. I freed my shoe. Turned out I was missing a bolt!

I removed the cleat so I could finish my ride without clipping in, and I finally got on the road. While the whole thing might have been mildly annoying, I now have an Allen key in my repair kit just in case, and I’m glad I know now to check the bolts before I go for a ride. This morning I got a replacement bolt so I can clip in like normal, and I hope to bring a few extras with me on the road.

Sick of Hearing My Own Voice

“Well, you know what they say about the best laid plans…”

My plan for this week was to transition from training posts to good old history nerd content. Yes, I enjoy riding my bike, but that’s not the primary reason I plan on biking the Lewis and Clark Trail this summer. I might like the idea of bike touring in general, but I’m going on this specific trip because of the history. Well, you know what they say about the best laid plans…

The drama of this week has been more in launching my Kickstarter than any excitement on a ride. My overly optimistic plan was to launch on Tuesday. But, as you can see, that didn’t happen. Not only did I miss that deadline, but I missed my Tuesday blog post because getting this darn thing going has taken up every waking moment of the past week, save for bike training. I told you about my filming trip to Concord, well last week I started filming the talking head parts of my Kickstarter video. I wrote my script, and with my mom’s cinematic help, filmed a video explaining the project. It took me all day to get the files onto my computer in a file type that I could actually view. When I finally did, I realized the external microphone I used didn’t pick up any sound.

My mom and I agreed that the background was lackluster and the lighting bleached me out, so we went to plan B. My mom’s friend Stephen (cue plug: The Digital Doc) lent us a green screen to make the background a little more on theme. On his suggestion I planned on showing a map of the route behind me, as well as other images. We filmed it on the same camera, did an actual sound check (what an intelligent and novel idea!) We finished filming the whole thing and uploaded it. This time the sound worked, but you could hear the distracting whir if the camera’s hard drive grind through the whole video. It took just as long to get the files onto my computer.

We filmed a third time with some success. I used my phone to avoid the various problems my camera had caused. Upon Stephen’s technological advice, I learned how to actually use the green screen effect on Premiere Pro in the half hour before I had to leave for my first Pfizer shot. Learning with that time crunch felt much like diffusing a bomb, but I was sure I wouldn’t be able to film again that day because I relied so heavily on the sun for my lighting. I was sweating and irritable.

When I got back and looked at what I’d filmed I realized that there was too much light coming from behind the green screen and it looked off. Finally, I moved the green screen to solve the lighting problem and filmed it again. As far as I was concerned, once I uploaded that video I was finished. Then I started editing. My eye line was so far off camera it looked awkward. I had set up a jerry rigged teleprompter by chrome casting my script onto a TV. I used a selfie stick attached to my tripod with Velcro, but we couldn’t really see what was happening on screen. At this point I was back at my apartment, no longer had access to the green screen. I was so sick of filming that I was ready to just deal with what I had, even though I knew it didn’t look great.

My friend Becca offered to help me edit, since I’m learning Adobe Premiere on the fly as I work on this project. I met up with her on Tuesday afternoon and showed her what I had so far.

“My morale was at an ultimate low.”

My morale was at an ultimate low. She told me what I already knew. I need this video to look professional if I want my project to get funded. Thank goodness for friends! When I sighed and said I knew I needed to re-film, that I was burnt out from filming it so many times and I didn’t know what to do for a background. Suddenly I had a director. More importantly I had someone who was excited to help, and I mooched off of her enthusiasm. We grabbed a tripod and went outside for a shoot. She gave me direction, convinced me to do it off the cuff instead of reading it off my screen (Is it surprising that I had it basically memorized at this point? Nah). We wound up with a much better clip, and I spent the afternoon editing at her apartment. I had two gaps I didn’t know how to fill, but played her what I had and asked for her thoughts. She told me I could use more action shots, and we were right back out the door to take video of me biking at “the magic hour”

I finished editing after my ride yesterday. I’m confident that I’ll be ready to launch the Kickstarter on Tuesday. Please come back and check it out!

Useless When Wet

I’ve spent most of the last week running around like a mad woman, trying (and succeeding!) to keep up with my training regime while putting together a crowdfunding campaign on Kickstarter. Thus, I’ll keep today’s post brief. My every moment has been so crammed full of preparation that the ride I wrote about last week feels like a month ago. Everything since is a bit of a blur. This seems like a good sign. I’ve hit a rhythm so consequently training has been uneventful.

I stayed with my mom this week. She had her second vaccine last Friday and I stuck around just in case she needed anything. We did a photoshoot for Instagram and my Kickstarter over the weekend (my mom took her vaccine like a champ). I get my first vaccine on Saturday and am immensely relieved to say I’ll be fully vaccinated by the time I leave for my trip. I was afraid I’d wind up stuck between vaccines and have to postpone my departure or figure out how to get it on the road (the latter of which seemed pretty impossible). I’ve never been comfortable with the idea of doing this during a pandemic. I went on faith that I’d get the vaccine before I left, but the certainty of knowing when has helped with some of my trip anxiety.

“The person who posted this loop on the app might be a bit insane.”

Yesterday I did just over twenty miles on the North Shore (from Marblehead to Nahant and back). I used the Ride with GPS app to find a route that would fit my regime (more than 10 miles but less than 20). The person who posted this loop on the app might be a bit insane. It asked me to bike through a busy rotary and across a causeway with blatant signs that said no cyclists. I skipped the rotary because I’m not suicidal, and took the sidewalk to the causeway, only to see I couldn’t safely or legally take the route specified. I went back the way I came and wound up taking a nice bike ride on a paved walking path through small dunes, close enough to the water to hear the constant roar of the ocean. It was windy and subsequently pretty chilly, but I had warmed up enough through exercise to only feel the bite of the wind without it piercing through all the way to my bones. Fortunately, the exercise kept me warm. I went rogue on my way home. I am familiar enough with the area that I ditched the planned route that continued to fail to follow logic, and biked along the ocean back into Marblehead.

When I got home, I had an important realization. So often on chilly days the moment I stop biking I cannot stop shivering until I take a hot shower, even if I pile on the blankets to try to warm up. That’s fine when I have access to a shower, but realistically, they are going to be a rare luxury for me this summer. I didn’t feel that sweaty, but sometimes it’s more like steam is emitting from my pores than dripping sweat. At any rate, I was cold and shivering. It was enough moisture though to make it impossible to warm up.

My mom and I had errands to run and I didn’t have time to take a shower before we had to go. So, instead of a shower I changed into clean dry clothes. I immediately stopped shivering. I feel silly for not realizing this was a potential solution to the problem. I’ve put a lot of effort into researching what gear I should take. It took me a long time to even commit to a sleeping bag, bouncing back and forth between down and a synthetic fill. Down is supposed to be warmer and more compactable, but it’s useless when it gets wet (much like my cycling jersey).

Song of the Day:

Soaking My Tired Limbs

On Sunday I took a course on crowdfunding and dove into my Kickstarter project full force. During a minor panic attack over how little time there is between now and my trip, I had to remind myself that I’ve been talking up my trip since last summer and I’m not starting from square one. First of all, I have this blog, I have an Instagram account that is slowly building up steam, and a Youtube channel in the works. I’m getting things done! In the past few weeks, I have felt incredibly good about how much I’ve accomplished, about how regularly I’ve posted here and on Instagram. I can be a flake sometimes, but I’m taking this project seriously. I’m figuring out what I want this trip to accomplish, what I want my book to accomplish, and I’ve mustered up every ounce of passion I have in me to make this thing happen.

My first point of action was to start filming my Kickstarter video. I came up with a list of visuals I wanted to shoot: me on my bike, the mountains of books I’ve read or plan to read for research, even the locations I had in mind.  I wanted to film outside in the sunshine and was absolutely set on doing so Tuesday. The forecast said it was the only warm and sunny day in a week full of rain and cold. I don’t own a car, so I came up with a packing list, loaded up my panniers and went on a ride. In addition to the weather, my training regime required me to go on one 40 mile ride and I wanted to do that on a nice, warm day.

“Friends, books are heavy. Like, HEAVY.”

I have a lot of books on Lewis and Clark. I filled up both panniers with my collection. I made one slight oversight. Friends, books are heavy. Like, HEAVY. I planned to go to Lexington to get a few shot on a set of picnic tables in front of a cute yellow colonial house museum right off the bike path. I had only gone eight miles and my limbs were already pretty tired when I arrived. I got a handful of good shots and started thinking that a 16 mile ride sounded a lot more doable than biking another 24 miles with 40 pounds of books to drag along. I was ready to listen to my body. The weight I was carrying was a huge jump in my training. I was meant to bike with “light weight.” 40 pounds was much closer to the full weight I’d carry on the trip in a month when I finish training.

I texted my mom. “Man I wish the sun was gonna be out tomorrow. I got a few shots, but I think I’m gonna head home. Books are really heavy.”

“Get used to it baby girl.”

She responded “Get used to it baby girl.”

It was a fair point. I was going to be carting that much with me for months! In retrospect, it was too easy to pressure me into continuing when I felt it was too much. I don’t turn back easily. I really should have listened to the blaring warning signs my body had already given me, but I continued past the end of the bike trail, down a few miles of dirt path through the woods, (much more solid and dry now than my last muddy attempt,) and into Concord. I set up my tripod and got nearly all of the shots I wanted. It was time consuming. I’d decided to film a good portion of my shots at Old North Bridge. There’s a steep gravel path through an open field and I was sure it would make for some great action shots. The trouble was that it’s a tourist destination and a common place to take an afternoon walk. It took significantly longer than it should have. I kept on having to wait for people to walk out of shot. The moment one was out of frame the next was just entering it. At least it was a decent length break, and it kept me active. My adrenaline kept pumping. When I was done I continued into downtown Concord and took an eight mile loop through farmlands and colonial houses, back to Old North Bridge before I headed home.

Every single time I bike by this house in Concord I think this sheep is real. Just a lone sheep.

The sun went down as I biked home. I was too tired to even clip my shoes in, and too tired to even flip my pedals to the flat side for comfort. My feet were sore from the awkward pressure the clip put on my arches, but I pushed through. It got colder, and even wearing my fleece I was  shivering. In Arlington I ordered a burrito through Grubhub that would be at my door when I got home. That was enough to get me there. I could barely pick up my feet when I got back. I kept tripping over myself. I left my panniers in the basement to deal with later. I barely said a word to my roommate, completely ignored his dog, who kept insisting on an enthusiastic greeting I was too wiped to give. I climbed all the way upstairs and flopped into my bed. A half an hour later, I’d recovered enough, eaten by burrito, and got off my butt. I took a long hot shower to warm up and soak my tired limbs.

A More Optimistic Outlook

I’ve ridden the Minuteman too many times to count. On Thursday I got to the end of the trail, took a few pictures for Instagram, turned around and headed back. I mention how often I’ve ridden it because there are still parts of it I’d never noticed before. The previous week I realized there was a cemetery alongside the path that I’d never seen. Someone had been clearing out trees near the path and one day headstones suddenly appeared before me, looming over the path.

On Thursday I noticed for the first time a farm nestled alongside the track. My heart leapt when I saw a pair of horses alongside a wooden fence, stretching their necks out to chew on the branches of a sapling on the other side. I stopped, set down my bike and took pictures. Few things can compare to the joy of spotting an animal somewhere I hadn’t expected. I feel that elation every time a bunny bolts across my path in Somerville. There are plenty of them there, but the mere fact that I’m in a city just outside of Boston makes them a novelty to me. Since I’ve been cooped up so long I’ve gotten to the point that even squirrels can cause a jolt of glee.

It was about four, and the afternoon sun was still bright in the sky. Considering how late it was when I started my ride, I expected a darker ride home. I felt like I was racing to beat the sunset, but there was no evidence that I was. My route was shady, but not even remotely dark. I was probably just guilting myself because I had meant to leave my apartment before noon. The ride home always feels faster than the ride out. As I got closer to Arlington, I noticed a man kneeling beside his bike, helmet still on, bike standing upside down, rested on its seat and handlebars. I saw an empty innertube next to him. I had flashbacks to my own tire fiasco, still very fresh in my mind, and pulled over.

“Did you get a flat?” I still had my hand pump attached to the frame of my bike.

“Yes, do you have a tire guage?”

“No, but I have a pump.”

“I am a cynic and I long for that sort of optimism.”

It turned out I wasn’t the first person to stop. He had more luck than I had. Someone had stopped with a CO2 Cartridge, filled up his tire and left. He had a road bike with slim tires that were likely to burst if they didn’t have enough pressure. There’s a strange sense of comradery when you ride a bike. Often on long rides, passing cyclists will give a friendly wave. I have heard many times that bicycle touring makes people have a more optimistic outlook on human nature. I am a cynic and I long for that sort of optimism. This was my first taste of it.

I told him I planned on investing in a tire gauge, but he was welcomed to use my hand pump. I gave him some pointers on its use since my own experience had taught me well what worked and what definitely did not. He pumped his tire just a bit more, tested the pressure with his thumb, and we chatted for about ten minutes about my trip cross country. He told me about his own attempted trip when he was younger through the southern states. I believe he started in South Carolina.

“Have you always been like this?” he asked.

“What? Independent?”

He nodded.

“Yes.”

“Good for you!”

I tried to casually insert my blog into the conversation. I’m not much of a salesperson so I couldn’t slip it in naturally and gave up. It crossed my mind that it might be a worthwhile idea to have a business card with my social media handles and website on it. I haven’t quite decided if it’s a good idea or a terrible one.

The Nazgul Path

The theme continues. I’m meant to bike 10-20 miles three times a week for the first two weeks of training. The weather was so nice that I wound up biking four days. Tuesday I went on a ride with my friend, Becca and we had lunch in the woods. We explored a few paths I’d never gone down. We ate lunch in a marshy field and watched a kindergarten class release ladybugs into the wild, charmed by the joy it brought them to watch the little buggers fly off.

“It was a rocky trail through a tunnel of trees, littered with skittering fallen leaves”

I brought up a path I’d dubbed the Ringwraith Path. I’d been prodding both Becca and our friend Katie to explore this path with me for almost a year. It was a rocky trail through a tunnel of trees, littered with skittering fallen leaves. I always expected a sudden gust of wind to blow down it, followed by an unearthly shriek. I had the nearly uncontrollable urge to shout “Get off the road!” Before bolting, barefoot, to take cover beneath a cave of gnarled tree roots. It wasn’t the type of path we could barrel down on our road bikes, and it was a trek to get to it on foot, so I never pushed the matter. I mentioned it casually, thinking we needed to do it before I left, but Becca was down to explore it immediately. I’m always down to explore, so it was settled.

I only notice the path on my way out of the city, but we were headed home now, so I told Becca what I remembered of the entrance and warned her I might miss it. I remembered it was just past an overpass and there was a sign for a field at the entrance. Joseph Miller Field? I couldn’t recall the name. Perhaps she’d see the sign if I missed it. We did find it, though I still can’t remember the full name. We had hardly walked down it when we came upon an open grove that was more than half shaded and half covered in soft, deep green moss. I told Becca I wanted to lay down on the bed and and live out my childhood fairy dreams.

 I spent the whole week waiting for Thursday. Thursday was supposed to go up to seventy degrees or close to it. I wanted to go on my longest ride yet and stay out all day in the sun. The day came and I was sorely disappointed. It was rainy, wet and worst of all, muggy. I spent most of the day convincing myself that I should go for a ride anyhow. After all, I won’t have a choice but to ride in the rain come this summer. I can’t see it as a deterrent now. If I let weather dictate my riding schedule, I might not complete my training before I need to leave.

I watched youtube videos most of the morning and couldn’t will myself outside until after 2pm. I put on my raincoat and shoved my fleece jacket into my pannier just incase I got too wet or cold on my way home. I decided to aim for ten miles, that way I hit the training minimum. I didn’t even change into my biking gear. Ten miles should only take about an hour. I could live without padded bike shorts that long. I wore a green denim jumpsuit. It was wet, but not raining. The raincoat went back in the pannier. The air was thick with humidity. I felt stifled the moment I stepped outside, but once my bike was out of the basement. I rolled my sleeves up as high as they’d go. I was doing this and I wasn’t turning back.

The sky  was dark, ominous, and overcast. When I got to Arlington, only three miles from home, I was fed up with my mask, already moist with sweat and stuck to my face. I was going to do ten miles though, discomfort aside. When I stopped for bubble tea, the world suddenly seemed a thousand times brighter. I continued on to a picnic bench at the same little park I’d stopped at on Sunday. If I headed home, I’d have done a 12-mile loop. But as I sat there and drank my bubble tea the sun emerged. The sky was a vibrant and inviting blue. I assessed myself. I was sweaty. I could live with sweaty, but I wasn’t uncomfortable. So, instead of 12 miles I decided to go to the end of the bike path again. Not quite as far as I had initially hoped (25 miles, not 32), but much better than 12.

The sunshine has brought with it the casual joy I associate with bike rides. On this even paved path I could coast and enjoy a cool breeze, no matter how muggy the weather. On long stretches, when there were no people walking the path, I sat back on my bike seat, spread my arms like wings and felt like I was flying.

Stuck in the Mud

March 25, 2021

It’s time for my first training montage, so open Spotify and play “Eye of the Tiger” for the full effect. While my first day back on a bike was incredibly eventful, things got easier and less chaotic. The next day I went for a ride around Marblehead. I decided to take advantage of the weather and biked to Salem and back that Friday with a pastry at A&J King for incentive. I reached my goal for my first week of training. I got my training regime from a book released by the Adventure Cycling Association about the Lewis and Clark Trail. The first two weeks I’m meant to bike 10-20 miles three times a week and build up up from there.

I followed the assumption that my lazy butt hadn’t retained any of the muscle I’d built up in the past two years since I’d been so slothful all winter. In 2019 I biked 85 miles a week just by commuting. I worked a costume job in Somerville and the only way I could make it to my second job at the MFA (intime) was by bike. I liked it, except when it rained and I had to spend a six hour shift soaked and shivering behind the ticket desk. I could feel myself getting stronger on that commute. When I started I struggled up hills. By winter it was a breeze. In January however, the snow and ice made the commute torture. I was offered a permanent position at my day job and when the weather turned I decided to quit the MFA.

I was proud of the strength I’d built up, not to mention the weight I’d lost from regular exercise, so I got a gym membership and started going after work. I figured a stationary bike would tide me over until I was outside again. Then, well, Covid hit. I stopped going to the gym completely. By mid April I was dying to get back on my bike. This spring was much the same, but instead I was out of the saddle for months, plural. I’m told cyclists start losing muscle mass after two weeks of inactivity. It had been about twelve.

I could tell I was weaker. Well, at least after everything that happened that first day I felt weaker. I was exhausted after only 15 miles. Last summer I was biking 30 to 50 on the regular. But, after my ride on Friday I managed to move a whole carload of stuff from my 3rd floor apartment into my mom’s attic and had a bit more faith in my stamina. It felt like surprising progress since I was often a complete loaf after I finished a ride.

“When I got to the entrance, it was ice and slush, but I had gravel tires so I had grip.”

I was still set on biking to Old North Bridge, and the next Wednesday I finally did. There was still snow on the ground. On the paved minuteman that didn’t matter. I hadn’t even noticed it on my previous ride, but the path to Old North Bridge was all dirt paths that snaked through the woods. When I got to the entrance it was ice and slush, but I have gravel tires so I had grip. I skidded around but past the entrance it dried out a bit—or so I thought. At first it was only a mild struggle. There were icy patches, but they were sparse. Then I came to a part of the path where the snow was melted into mud. I could turn back and give up on my goal, but I’d already given up on this plan once! I wasn’t ready to give up again. Besides, I really wanted to relax by the Concord River. I got to a point where the mud was three inches deep and there was no way around. I pedaled with all of my strength (and it took all of it to even move) and by some miracle stayed vertical. A hundred yards through the mud I began to question my own sanity. I didn’t even know how far I had left. It went on longer than I expected, the mud and the path. It had been so long since I’d gone this far I couldn’t remember it. I popped out on Monument Street and coasted to the river. I had severely underestimated how far of a trip I’d set for myself. I’d gone 16 miles and it was still early enough in the afternoon. That meant I’d hit 32 miles when I got home. I pulled out Sea for some cute Instagram pics, sat by a tree with a notebook and began to write my first blog.

On the way home, I had a choice. There was a break in the path and I knew I could skip the mud on my way home and save myself the struggle, but I kept going through the woods. Given the choice, I preferred the adventure.

Boy Are My Arms Tired

March 23, 2021

Somehow, riding in clipless shoes for the first time was not the only excitement on my first day of training. When I decide I’m going to do something I go in with everything I have. In this case this was literal. I strapped my panniers to my bike, brought a camera a book to read (I had big dreams of getting to Concord and relaxing by Old North Bridge) and even my tire repair kit. I hadn’t even looked at the training regimen I planned to follow but I figured I’d need to get used to the extra weight eventually, so why not now? It had been long enough since my last ride that I couldn’t remember it, so I decided to try the hand pump in my kit while I was still at home. I didn’t give it much time. I tried, felt like I may have let some air out of it accidentally. I was in a bit of a rush. My local coffee shop closes at 2 and I wanted a cup of coffee and something to eat before I got going.

When my tires are just a bit low I often wonder how my leg muscles got so weak so quickly. It always takes me a bit of struggle before I decide I really should put air in my tires more often. I pulled over not far from my coffee shop and tested the wheel. There was some give. There are a few bike repair stations on the Minuteman, but I learned the hard way that the pumps are questionable at best. Last summer I went through the same ordeal. I decided after I’d already started my ride that it would be easier with a little more air in the tire. I used the bike station to pump my tire and wound up with a flat. I had to carry my bike what felt like a mile to meet up with a friend with a bike pump. My muscles recall that day vividly and I refused to make that mistake again. The bike path breaks at Arlington Center. The Kickstand Café had the bike pumps I was used to attached to concrete to prevent theft.

“In a manic state of desperation, I searched Youtube for a tutorial.”

 There are plenty of things about biking that I haven’t learned quite yet. Things I’d rather learn now than in the middle of nowhere with no way to dig myself out of a difficult situation. One of was apparently how a presta versus a schrader valve works and what a universal pump looks like. I assumed this pump was universal. I thought I had a seal and started pumping but there was no tire pressure. Which made sense since a moment later, the tire was so flat it the bike was unrideable. I took out my hand pump to give it another try.  This time I took a look at the instructions. They were worse than anything I’d seen with Ikea. I was almost convinced my bike repair kit was missing a piece. In a manic state of desperation, I searched Youtube for a tutorial. I was right to think my instructions were useless, but the Youtube video made the process seem simpler than it was. I needed to unscrew the cap on the hand pump, flip the rubber seal around and screw the cap back on. But the seal was a good two millimeters larger on the other side, so when I flipped it around it didn’t fit in the hole it left. I tried to force it in but it only bent awkwardly out of shape. I spent a good five minutes fiddling with it before I figured it out. Relieved, I went to attach it to the valve. Because it was a rubber seal it required elbow grease to get it over the opening. I pushed it into place and the valve bent. With it bent and the inner tube flopping around inside of the tire, I couldn’t push it far enough in to get a seal.

“I am a stubborn beast, and if I’m at all capable of solving a problem myself, that’s how I want to do it.

I was frustrated and very aware that I had a friend who lived a few blocks away. Should I lock up my bike and go borrow her pump? I am a stubborn beast, and if I’m at all capable of solving a problem myself, that’s how I want to do it. I had my tire repair kit and at this point I knew how to solve the problem. My arms were exhausted but I was almost there! I wasn’t confident that I’d solve it but I was going to try. I pulled out my tire levers, removed the tire, removed the inner tube. The hand pump pushed on easily when I could put pressure on it from the other side. I got the seal! I could see the empty tire filling up. I popped the tube back into the tire and the tire back onto the wheel. The hand pump didn’t have a tire guage, so I pumped until it felt firm and called it enough. I biked about twelve miles on that tire repair, the rest of my bike trip and all the way home.

I went to a bike shop the next day to get a new tube to replace the one with the broken valve, as well as two spare tubes for my trip. I’m poor and cheap, so I bought the tires and changed the tube myself on the sidewalk in front of the bike shop. I’m good at it, it takes me barely more than a minute and I felt savvy doing it myself so skillfully. I just bought what the guy working there handed me, but when I opened the box I discovered these lovely tubes had a beautiful innovation: a nut that held the valve in place, even when the tire was completely empty. With that little ingenuity, the fiasco of the previous day would not happen again.

Spring Has Sprung and Training Has Begun

March 19, 2021

I’ve been watching the weather like I’m waiting for the lottery numbers to come in. Spring is more certain than that, but in New England, who knows! Last week it broke 50 degrees and the day it did I was back on my bike again. I’d attempted a ride maybe three times this winter. I laugh at my stamina for cold now, when I think about how often I biked in the snow and rain just over a year ago. That was for my commute and therefore out of necessity. Last summer and into the fall I biked twenty to fifty miles three days a week. A few months off the saddle and I can barely manage more than 10.

Last Tuesday I put on my clipless cycling shoes for the first time, and ambitious as ever, went for a ride (Clipless shoes are meant to make the most of the kinetic energy put into cycling so that it takes less energy to bike long distances). I strapped my brand new, beautiful green panniers onto my rear rack for the first time (Thank you Emily and David!) and made for the bike path by my apartment. I’ve never clipped into bike pedals before. When I bought my lovely Cannondale, I got pedals that can be used with or without bike shoes, purely on the logic that I didn’t have the money for a $200 pair of shoes and didn’t want to buy pedals twice. I was warned that I’d find them annoying, but I’ve lived with them on my bike for something like 6 months and have no complaints. In this instance I was grateful for them. They let me bike to a stretch of path with few intersections before I attempted to clip in. I have been told by many more experienced people that it doesn’t matter how prepared you think you are, you will fall over. They were not wrong.

“I tried to catch myself, but my foot was attached to the pedal.”

When I reached my first stretch of path I realized how foolish I was to think my way would be clear. It was warm out and I live in a city! Of course everyone was outside enjoying this teaser of spring.  I might avoid dealing with cars but not traffic. I pulled off on a side path so I could clip in away from people and try my first few pedal strokes without interference. I clipped my left foot in while completely stopped ready to give it a try. Before my right foot had a chance to get off the ground, a woman carrying a baby—carrying! No stroller—turned down the path and directly in front of my bike. In a moment of panic, but grateful I wasn’t at risk of running her and the baby down, I attempted to scoot my bike out of her way. It did not go well. My left foot was still clipped in. I scooted left and hadn’t gotten far enough in this experiment to know how to release the cleat (not that it would have helped). This made me lose my balance. I tried to catch myself but my foot was attached to the pedal. I tumbled over and the bike tumbled with me. Despite having a baby in her arms, this poor, alarmed woman tried to help get the bike off me, but my foot was still attached. I thought for a moment she might break my ankle trying to help me, and shouted “I’m fine! I don’t need help. My foot’s attached!” which seemed to confuse her. I explained that I was using bike shoes for the first time and she went on her way. I managed to release my foot and scrambled back up and onto my bike.

My biggest worry with these shoes was a bruised ego. Falling hurt but it would never be a full-on wipeout thanks to inertia. I got over my bruised ego almost immediately when I realized that not only had this stranger watched me flailing on the ground due to my own awkwardness, but an entire crew of municipal workers had witnessed it while trimming trees not 15 feet away. One man asked me if I was alright as I biked by. I told him I was fine and soldiered on. Anonymity can be a blessing sometimes. I continued to bike without clipping in until I hit another long stretch. For some reason I had one foot down but the other clip was finicky, but I hadn’t fallen over so I considered it progress.

I decided to stop in a little park next to a church to practice clipping in and out over grass instead of pavement. I wish I’d started with this plan. I was having difficulty. I could clip in and out of my left pedal easily, but my right was resisting and I kept on getting stuck. I got so stuck that I had to take off my shoe to free myself and fell over again in the attempt. Then it dawned on me. I bought these shoes in the fall, attached the cleats immediately and then never tested them out. I was afraid to use them in the city and procrastinated until the winter made me forget them. So, in a moment of revelation I decided to look at the bottom of the shoes and compared my handiwork. Wouldn’t you know it, the troublesome cleat was crooked.

“I was nearly home and so far without incident.

I sat my butt on the wet ground, took out my bike multi-tool, adjusted the cleat and miraculously solved the problem! As I headed home I felt confident. I was nearly home and so far without incident. As I approached the intersection of the Minuteman and Mass Ave I readied myself early. it was a busy road and I didn’t want to fall over in front of a car. I unclipped. I’d developed a technique where I put my feet forward on the pedals so I could bike no matter what side of the pedal I was on without clipping in. I thought it was clever. Evidently it is possible to accidentally clip in and smack down hard onto the sidewalk. With road rash all over my knee and yet no hole in my bike leggings I got back up, ready to be home already, and hardly got out of bed the next day.

Finally, I decided to stop in a little park next to a church to practice clipping in and out on grass instead of pavement. I wish I had started with that plan. I could clip in and out of my left pedal easily but my right was giving me a ridiculous amount of trouble. Once I finally got the thing clipped I kept on getting stuck. When I finally stopped to troubleshoot I got clipped in and couldn’t escape. I had to take my shoe off to break free, and fell over again in the process. Just as before, I fell over, the bike fell on me and my foot got trapped under the bike. I had to thread my hands through the crossbar to free myself. Then it dawned on me. I bought these shoes in the fall, attached the cleats immediately and then never bothered to test them out. I was afraid to use them on city streets and procrastinated until the winter made me forget about them entirely. So, in a moment of revelation I decided to look at the bottom of the shoes and compare the functional cleat to the rebellious one. Wouldn’t you know it, the right cleat was crooked. I broke out my bike tool and adjusted it. It didn’t give me anymore trouble. I fell twice in that little park trying to solve it, but on grass, so with limited injury. I felt confident. Bike, clip-in, bike better, see intersection, clip out, break, stop. I was nearly home without incident. I approached the intersection of the Minuteman and Mass Ave. Mass Ave. is an extremely busy road. I didn’t want to fall over in front of a car and somehow get run over, so I unclipped early for insurance. I had developed a technique where I put my feet on the pedals with my heels forward so I could pedal without clipping, so I used this technique at the intersection. This may seem clever at first glance. It is not. In fact, it wound up being very stupid. Evidently it is possible—no—likely—that to clip back in accidentally and smack down hard on the the brick sidewalk when you stop. By hard I mean I somehow got road rash on on my knee and thigh and yet somehow no holes in my bike leggings. I bruised the entire left half of my body badly (why did I always fall to the left!?) and when I got home, I barely moved out of bed again until late the next day.