After my glorious spill, I was itching to get back out there. Since my husband and I have to trade off child-watching duties to get rides in, he was not able to squire me into the woods. Fortunately, my enabler lives close and had a bit of free time.
Enabler
I'll confess to being a babe in the woods here and I don't like it. I can definitely change a flat on a car, but haven't had cause to learn the same on a bicycle, so I don't ride alone. I'd like to, but I've been repeatedly warned against it. Sigh.
We met up at one end of an almost-27-mile-long rec trail wearing matching jerseys and smiles. After a liberal application of bug dope, we got rolling.
As we emerged, victorious but tired, at the other end of the trail, I reflected on my improbable rise from couch-slouch to athletic phenom...
Nah, we rode for about an hour then went home. But it was a fun hour. I shook off my nerves from the recent fall and got great advice, too.
I learned the rules of the trail are the same as on horseback--to call out obstacles the others might not see, to pass left after calling it out, and to always keep a few sugar cubes in your pocket.
I was shown sweet tricks for quicker mounting and choosing lines. Jen demonstrated extended slow-speed balancing while repeatedly waiting for me to catch the heck up. I remember doing all of these things as a wilder child so the real trick to cyclocross is probably never to grow up.
Excited that the grandparents were going to watch the children overnight, C and I quickly planned a ride together. Though they are the greatest joy of my life, the kids are also so young that they can also be an impediment to riding. Someone's got to watch them, of course. But, it is going to pass, and all too quickly, so I will never complain that they need me.
I wanted to try a maintained trail of some kind so I could get the hang of the shifting on the new bike. My husband had sold his cx bike when we moved back down to civilization but a quick tire swap on one of his road bikes and he was trail-ready.
Ready to roll
They say you never forget how to ride a bike and that's sort-of true, but it had been seven years since my last ride and it did feel a bit strange, if euphoric.
I had a huge smile on my face after the small, muddy descent and the few branches I rode over though I was later jokingly admonished for doing so with no patch kit on board. Ha. Oh, well. I felt like a kid again, exactly what I wanted in the first place.
Bellatrix in her natural habitat
I was getting the hang of the shifting on this new bike and even enjoying the surroundings. C pulled up beside me and then it all gets a bit squirrelly. I've still got no idea how or why it happened, but down I went. I do remember the fall in slow-motion, like all good tumbles.
Trixie was fine. That's the first thing we checked. I knew I was banged-up but okay. We washed off the blood and some of the sand with water from the water bottles and kept going. "It doesn't even hurt," I noted, somewhat surprised.
Haha, oops...
A mile down the road I stopped. We were at a road-crossing and I realized it was going to be a long haul from there on out. I was still bleeding and the adrenaline was wearing off making it obvious that I had actually hurt my shoulder and should probably ice that. We bagged the ride and headed back. I was disappointed (understatement).
Of course it was worth it. I only sprained my shoulder and I the road rash healed pretty quickly. I have mad nursing skills from my husband's old spills. I have a very physical job and I spent the week doing my eight-hour shifts one-handed. That was probably the worst of it right there.
Cool sling
I'd like to regale you with tales of all my subsequent cx adventures, but I am still working weeknights (when the local group rides go off) and my husband is in serious training for a pretty big goal so he hits the roads for hours and hours at a time. I'm super impressed by his determination.
So if anyone wants to take an enthusiastic newb out on the trails, I promise to be smiling the whole time and to always laugh at my own foolishness. I mean, that's kind of me in a bizarro nutshell: equal parts stubborn grit, childlike enthusiasm, and extra hearty servings of self-deprecation. I don't know any other way to be. Let's play!!
Since I was 14 or 15 I have been completely obsessed. I want to confess a love for a boy band here, or for soft tacos, or for glitter eyeliner (that's actually pretty awesome), but my obsession was with names.
A trip to the book store--and there were super-duper many of those--would compel me to the same two sections. The first was Philosophy. I was always trying to learn something, so home came Nietzsche and Camus and Sartre and...none of that helped. I got a C in college Philosophy. Meh.
Horse camp. 15? Only the most flattering photos make the blog. This chick loves books. And flannel. And has no idea where her hairbrush is.
The other section was Parenting. I wasn't a young mom (although my mother was visibly confused when I brought in new baby name books). I didn't even want children. Babies? That was a completely foreign concept to me. But--NAMES!!! Oh, how I loved them. Still do.
And...I lied when I said two sections, I would also sneak into the Children's Department to search for new Saddle Club books or to pick up anything related to Anne of Green Gables. There were a hundred of each. I still read those. Good stuff.
I wanted to know the complete history behind names, their evolution, earliest known usage, all the juicy stuff. I learned that some authors invented names that we still use today like Vanessa, Olivia, and Evangeline.
I never named my cars. What?? I dunno.
If you've been following any of this, you'll know I'm searching for a cyclocross bike. I'm not going to spoil the surprise, but I've got one on hold to try out. I might hate it, but I'm already trying to name it.
I've got the perfect name but this bike isn't black, and having it repainted would cost nearly the same as buying a second bike so I'd just get a second bike, obviously.
So, I need a name for a very peppy-looking red and white bicycle.
Do I want her to sound fierce? Do I want her to have a cute name so people underestimate us then get trounced? Do I use up the cool baby names I won't get to use on actual children and skip the plan to adopt dozens of cats? I mean, not all at once.
On the short list:
Harpy (tough and scary--just like me! Grr!!! (see above photo for confirmation of this)
Philomena
Ruby
Isolde
Freya
The Flying Tomato
Lola
Zelda
Florence
Matilda
Ingrid (nixed for my human daughter--what?!!)
Should I try to hold out for an ebony steed to use the name I covet? Does it really matter when cross bikes are primarily the color of mud?
Have you ever named a bicycle? Car? Stilts? (I'm thinking lefty and righty for the stilts, though I used to have a pair and those didn't get names, either--slacker)
My husband shaves his legs. I'd be willing to bet that on most days, his legs are better cared-for than mine. I'm totally cool with that.
On the day we met, I happened to mention my interest in triathlons. I'm pretty sure that was all it took to hook the guy. Who knew?
I had no qualms about the hours he devoted to his training, because I owned a horse so I was going to be pretty busy, myself.
Though I anticipated things like long rides and being shown-up in the leg department, there were a few things I didn't realize before we got serious.
Here are the top ten things to know before dating a cyclist...
1. Your weekends are probably already planned. Whether your partner is a roadie, a cross rider, a fixie, track cyclist, gravel dog, or a mountain biker--you can bet they have big plans. Even the most devoted couch-potato will think nothing of dropping the remote for some chamois time. There might be charity rides or competitions. In the interest of togetherness, you might find yourself recruited to volunteer. For casual group slogs or small club rides you might be tapped to tag along as a sort of SAG or broom wagon. Your reward? FOOD. Cycling takes a lot of energy and you can be sure that and empty tank will be refilled.
Resting after a three-day charity ride. Safety patrol. Look at those legs--smooth as a baby's bottom.
2. Your pantry will get weird. From flirtations with protein powders to performance gels, goos, and bars to every drink mix made for athletes, you'll find they begin to arrive, one by one, and take up all the extra space in your kitchen. Four pound jugs of drink powder for long rides? You're going to have two of those on top of your fridge until Armageddon.
3. The bikes will mysteriously multiply.
Aw, his and hers' bikes...nah, both his. You're gonna need a Cross bike, obviously.
I believe the equation to be n+1 = the number of bikes at any given time. They will start with whatever bike is a good all-arounder. Then they will want to upgrade frames or components, eventually convincing you it makes more sense to just buy the complete bike they "happened to find" on a website. Then they will reconnect with a buddy who rides but prefers to stick to mountain trails. Aren't you always saying they should spend quality time with friends? The old MTB isn't going to cut it... and did you happen to see this great price on last-year's model? Ugh, the dreadmill and indoor trainer sessions are boring. Why not ride all year? Have you heard about fat bikes? And on, and on, and on.
4. They will get hurt. Eventually.
"Don't worry, the bike is fine."
This could be a bit of road rash. This could be a broken bone. If you want to recoil in horror, realize it's not much different from other activities. If your partner is like mine, the first thing they will let you know on the phone is the condition of their bike. I can't say anything because horseback riding is one of the most dangerous sports out there, and that was my jam for most of my life.
BOTH ears forward, Ginger. Pretend you like me.
Many things that are engaging and sporty also carry risk. You skied in college, remember? Played a season of adult kickball? You were the catcher on a rec league softball team with no equipment...or was that just me? Stock up that first aid kit and make them wear a helmet. Or put on your own helmet and join them! Life is meant to be lived.
Who needs safety gear? You do.
5. The gear is not cheap. The aforementioned helmet is a necessity and could set one back a couple hundred smackers, depending on brand loyalty or if you have a matchy-matchy partner like mine. Did you know that pro-cycling teams release a new kit every season for their fans? Did you know that there are special gloves for all the different seasons? That arms and knees have their own warmers? That each cycling discipline requires a new set of gear? Did you know that a person will quite willingly spend more on a jersey because it matches with their shorts? That debating between white or black shoes will take half of an actual hour? That water bottles can coordinate with bikes and cyclists can then coordinate with their bikes and water bottles?
We live in exciting times, folks.
There are no rain delays in cycling! Pro-tip: this does NOT go in the dryer.
6. Tools, tools everywhere. No, not referring to the bad drivers out there (see #8). As a reaction to your visible nausea at the recent bill from the favored bike shop, tools will begin to arrive in the mail. (It's Amazon Prime, babe, the shipping is free!) The cyclist will begin to attempt basic bike maintenance tasks like swapping out chains and bar tape, and then, bolstered by early success and YouTube videos, launch into an amateur career as a bike mechanic with varying degrees of success.
7. Data overload. Your love, who may or may not have despised math class in school, has now morphed into a sporty mathematician. They will keep metrics for things like mileage, grade, elevation, calories, temperature, moving time, average heart rate, and watts. They will compare it to other rides and other years to monitor fitness and progress. They will compete with virtual partners. They will compete with results from actual friends. They will share this data with other sporty mathematicians on enabler websites like Strava. They WILL share these numbers with you. Each and every time.
"Why, yes, I'd love to hear your numbers."
8. The most-feared event. This one is especially for the road cyclists. Cars. The foolish drivers who ignore laws or have no idea what cyclists are allowed to do such as taking the lane if at speed or sitting in the left turn lane waiting to make a *gasp* left turn. Sometimes a savvy cyclist can avoid accidents by anticipating bad drivers. Sometimes, as in the case of my husband, the driver simply pulls out into the road, without looking, when you are descending a hill.
What was left of the mighty Madone. This was a very bad day.
There's not much I can suggest that will make this worry go away for you. Get involved in opportunities for public education. Pray. In every thing we do, there is risk. The riskiest thing to me, is to live a life so small that you never get to be brave. To grow.
Gratuitous motivation
Gratuitous motivation
9. The mess! I suppose it varies depending where you live and what type of cycling your partner does, but in my house there is a lot of dirt and mud. We have four intense seasons around here and the bike(s) see them all. Remember that thing about no rain delays? Well the results of such athletic badassery are pretty filthy, especially with no garage. Bring that muddy bicycle right into the kitchen, why not? Mmhm, you'll wash it after you eat something. Get a good broom and a sense of humor.
Can you guess the original color?
Worth it.
Shiny! Now, about the kitchen floor...
10. You will be recruited. Don't think you are going to get away so easily! Even if the last time you were on a bike was in sixth grade, and haven't thought about it since, you'll get many gentle nudges to get back in the saddle. After all, it's riding a bike. You never forget. (Probably)
So there it is, my list of ten things to know before dating a cyclist. Did I miss anything? What would your list look like?
Not long ago--really, like a few days ago--I dipped my quill into ink made from crushed winterberries hand-gathered into a basket woven from locally-sourced swamp ash collected with my obedient children in tow. I penned all my cyclocross wonderings onto parchment and sent it out into the universe by way of electronic journaling. Hi. I have three kids. I work a full-time night job. I'm tired. It's quick or it does not happen!
To recap: adventurous spirit meets motherhood x3 and menial household tasks and physically-taxing job and inertia. Adventurous spirit, undeterred, splashes some cold water on my face and reminds me that 1. I'm not dead and 2. I'm still alive. Let's make something happen, shall we?
The spouse is a rabid cyclist, a roadie, who loves big hills and long rides. I'm not sure he's sane. I wasn't sure I wanted to tag along for 100 milers so I pretty much let him do his own thing. Does that mean I am NOT a real cyclist? Not a REAL cyclist? Not a REEL cyclist (see below)? Am I meant to drive the SAG wagon only, or is there more for me?
Deep questions.
Enter Jen Murphy, Master Enabler. While shoveling piles of mislaid toys back into the toy box, I noticed a cyclocross photo she posted. And another. And then I was on local race pages noting registration deadlines and searching for sale bikes (thrifty=me, see previous two blog postings). Hmm...cyclocross...I was feeling...excitement? She seemed hooked on this crazy sport.
But, first, I had a few questions. How do I know I've got the right stuff?
Friend Jen is a good sport. She baited her hook and promptly posted this response. Will she lure me in? Is there something fishy about someone who overdoes metaphors?
I'm a trail runner. It doesn't matter that I haven't run in over a year, does it? I'm a self-identified awesome athlete with no particularly convincing evidence to back this up. Ice climber? Yes, that's me! Oh, well I haven't actually gotten around to it. But I've joined all the forums and I have my equipment carefully researched and selected. And I even get updates on sales, you know, for when I have the time and money.
Mostly time.
My husband, the Irish Italian (you're welcome, dear), is an AVID cyclist. He is usually in training for something. He always has big plans and tends to follow through. (Show-off...) To him, 100 miles in a day is actually possible. It's the equivalent of taking the stairs instead of the elevator. It's upping your incline on the treadmill (I'd call it a dreadmill, but I kinda like them. I'm weird). It's like no sugar all week. Another thing he manages with great success. While some people look at his data and feel sympathetically winded and vaguely nauseated, HE is looking at the people who do more, and who do it faster. He has mad goals.
Since he has always been one with the bicycle, you'd think I would have been swept away in a sea of spandex ages ago. Togetherness and all that. Well, I did have a road bike for a hot minute. I was super excited. Okay, it was poorly-fitted and the brakes were only 70 percent effective, but it was me who quit. I could have persevered. I could have found a different bike. I took that disappointment and put all that energy right into avoidance. Maybe I'm meant to run...
While I pretended to be completely over cycling, I would still think about it. Did I want to go for long, unforgiving hauls like my bonkers spouse? Meh. Did I want to launch my body all the way down steep twisty-turny sneaky-rooted mountain trails? Not on a bike. You know, bones breaking and all that. Besides, that's what my feet are for! You know how the joke goes that the mom in the house is the only one that still has to keep going when she is sick? Well, I have three itty-bitty ones. I'm not dragging broken bones up and down three flights of stairs in pursuit of exercise and thrills. Plus, work would like me functional. But...I still want this thrill. I'm almost 40 but don't tell me the thrill is gone. I won't have it!
Enter cyclocross. Really. Like I want to enter cyclocross events. It's perfect. The fun of charging toward deliberate obstacles smacks of the reckless joys of my childhood when I was never without my bike. Let's devise wild and wicked courses to test our bravery! Yes, let's! Let's push ourselves to the point of giddy, well-earned exhaustion. Let's race towards the mud like mad geniuses of physics. Wait--people still do this? I'll admit to being nervous about running, er--riding, with a field of fitter, fearless wonders, but I'm game. So how do I get started?
That's exactly what I asked superbrain and wildly weird cyclocross maven (and complete enabler) Jen Murphy. (You must go read her blog, but not before you finish mine, because I eked it out while sick and kids were shouting at me for more gummie snacks) Per usual, I've joined forums and peeked at gear and prices. But I want more. I need the dirty details. How much is it going to cost to feed my soul? So here we go...
I need a bike. How much should I have set aside for a decent starter bike? What type of frame? Any components I'll want to change out sooner rather than later? I'm also between sizes--my problem with bike number one--so do I want to size down for control? Give up and buy new trail-running shoes?
Let's say I have this bike, see, and I want to know how to maintain it. When I rode horses, it was a source of pride how well-kept your horse was. I did everything. I'm not so mechanically-inclined. Actually, I have no idea. I actually think I could be. So how do I learn everything I need to know from flats to bar tape and when to call the shop? I'd ask my husband, but he's already 100 miles up the road...
I like to shop, but my husband always jokes that I can't shop outside of clearance sections. He's right (don't tell him), so how will I know which equipment is okay to bargain-shop and on which gear I need to spend spend spend? Is my husband lying when he says the expensive Sidi's in his online shopping cart are better than the brand that was on sale and that he has to pay more for the helmet that matches his kit? I need to know.
Do I need a license to be this cool? Are there some events that are just for kicks and some that are for points? Where should a gal start? I'm a big joiner! Just check out the "clubs and activities" section of my old yearbooks. It would be embarrassing if I wasn't proud. Oh, and what is the "season?"
I'm...a bit..less fit than I was prior to gestating all my perfect children, so how fit is fit enough? Is there a routine that's more beneficial than another? An area to target? (Please don't say core...please don't say core...please don't say core...) You are going to say core. I sensed a disturbance in the force. Okay, so core and what else? Pilates is the devil so I'm sure I need to do even more of it. Yoga is like candy, so please tell me I can have more of that. That's strength and flexibility, what about endurance? I'm sure you've done well when you feel like your lungs are exiting through your mouth because you were really really pushing yourself, but I want to have enough stamina to make it through the entire race before collapsing, triumphant that I survived. Smiling, even, because this is wicked amounts of fun. So what do you suggest? I'll start right away.
What is the culture like? Every activity has it's own culture. I used to ride horses cross-country (alternate universe cyclocross for horses? Also, how you know I am brave as heck--go watch some videos on YouTube) and there were spoken and unspoken rules and traditions and even ways of showing your individuality within the cultural mores. So tell me what you know. These could be my people.
Finally, what is the one thing you wish you knew before you started? Yeah, I want the secret stuff.
