the Get Rolling Orbit

5,000 miles and counting. No more white sidewalls and no more white handlebar tape. (It’ll look cleaner more of the time!)

Anybody who read my early biking days posts will understand my delight to have passed the 5,000 mile milestone. As a little reward, I bought new tires and will soon be riding with an upgraded computer.

What have I learned since 2013? A couple things.

Being in great shape is simply is not enough to keep up. I can build strength and endurance with all the leg presses, chin ups and top-to-bottom ski runs I want, but as serious biking season approaches, I know I’m still the most likely rider in my (sneakily) competitive group to bring up the rear on the flats and downhills. My new cycling computer will track my speed, time and  distance as before but will also capture heart rate (one less readout on the handlebars) and revolutions per minute. For RPMs, the guiding rule is that fast spinning combined with proper shifting (every hill is a learning experience) should  keep my legs fresher longer. We’ll see!

Distracted biking, oh no! Where fear once compelled me to stay focused on my surroundings, now I find myself processing work issues, mulling over a foreign language, or imagining some wonderful or difficult future. For me, this is actually a form of blindness.  I am constantly reminded that it’s bad for me because my day-to-day job tasks are all related to safety: I work with a global facility management group’s safety team; write and share corporate communications about health, environment and safety; and provide editorial support for incident investigations to determine the root causes of workforce injuries. Not following procedures and mental slips are the two prevalent human performance issues behind almost every accident.

The stoplight dilemma. More experienced road bikers assess an upcoming street intersection with the expectation that the light will stay green. If it’s not a high-risk gamble to ignore a yellow light or run a red, they’ll do it. Despite the negative of being dropped by whoever I’m riding with, this is one area where I do retain my feeling of vulnerability.  As a distracted rider already, I am much safer with the instant decision-making of having a rule to always follow: red means stop. And for me, yellow from about 3 car lengths back also means stop (easy to anticipate if you scan the cross traffic streets). Riding alone, that’s not a problem. But on group rides or even with one co-rider, if I decide to set aside my safety rules and give away that power, I may end up getting hit by a car.

Every weekend is another opportunity to test my legs and lungs.

Road cyclists who live in the East Bay area of Northern California like to test their fitness and skill  by riding up and down Mount Diablo. It’s 3,848 feet high, and on a clear day, you can see the Sierra Nevada range across the Central Valley from its peak. A year ago, I swore I’d never ride on that curvy road with its long climb up and fast ride down. This is big time biking: it’s part of the Amgen Tour of California every year.

Mt. Diablo

But there I was with Dan and my fellow Team Chevron riders on a foggy morning in July. We headed east and began to climb. I was worried on the ascent because I had no experience with a long climb like that. How much is in the tank? What if I can’t make the pedals go around?

I was relieved to make my objective for this first time, the junction of South Gate with North Gate roads. I was proud and jubilant! After a brief rest, I watched just about every body else head up for the final third of the climb, which culminates in a brutally steep but short strech to the very top. After supporting me as I made my first (partial) ascent up the hill, Dan rode away with them.

Aftermath of success.

On the long descent, I tried not to brake continuously, but my hands did get tired and I stopped to shake out my arms at a pull out. I was alone except for the two or three guys who whizzed past me.

The following weekend, as Dan joined Team Chevron on a 35-mile loop that included Altamont and Patterson Passes, I was eager to check my progress on something I’d ridden after only 4 months on my new bike a year ago, the hills on Calaveras Road.  I rode the full 32-mile route on my own (with lots of company from bikers I didn’t know). In solidarity with Dan’s harder ride, I also biked the steep hill at the end, which I’d skipped last year.

Braking down that hill felt stressful, and I confess I got off and walked down the S-curve.It’s a struggle to get my fingertips out that far to squeeze the brakes, and the weight on my hands and stress on my thumb is considerable. I think I need to add another pair of shims to bring the brake levers closer.

On the ride back, I practiced banked turns on the curves, standing on the pedals to pass people for the few uphills, and getting into the drops.  I felt amazingly good. I rewarded myself with Ooie Gooie chocolate cake as soon as I got home!

With over 1700 miles logged, it’s time to share my latest biking revelations. I didn’t dare hope for this so soon, but my Year of Fear is gradually fading from memory. These days I even dare to brag in Facebook.

My main goal last year was to desensitize myself to the intimidating aspects of riding on streets next to fast-moving cars. I still have plenty of skills to master: hand signals, drinking from my water bottle, and fast cornering. But these weren’t at all approachable with my whole body tightened up with tension. I don’t know how many times I had to remind myself, “Don’t strangle the handlebars!” “Quit hunching!” “Pretend you’re relaxed!” (helpful to my skate students). I know it’s not safe to get too relaxed in the face of these dangers, so lately I’ve had to add “Pay attention, be here now!” when I notice I’m daydreaming.

As 2013 saw the shorter days of fall, I returned to my favorite morning spin class. The noise has always bothered me. I made the mistake of researching the issue of ear damage caused by the high decibels so common in group exercise classes.  When I learned typical music volume matches that of a chainsaw, my attitude began to sour. After two more classes trying out ridiculous-looking ear protection, I finally vowed, “No more indoors spinning for me!”

It’s not so bad riding at near-freezing temps. I learned that layering up in a neck gaitor, extra gloves, and fleece tights and vest works just fine for cold-weather commuting. When the days were at their shortest, I was still able to get just enough daylight before and after work to be safe, attaching a flasher to my handlebars and saddle for extra visibility. Once it became light enough, I found an hour-long morning commute I’m still enjoying this summer. It has a very wide bike path where I can safely practice lifting my hands off the handlebars and drinking from my water bottle. The route also has several long hills, both up and down, where I work on efficient shifting and try hard to resist braking on the fast descents.

The best indicator of my 2014 biking progress is that Dan and I are now riding together on the weekends. He’s shown me many of his favorite routes and for the most part, I am able to keep up. In the past few weeks, we have completed two 30+ rides with Team Chevron. (Thus my Facebook brag above.)

Riding behind Dan last weekend, I found myself thinking, “Why isn’t he pedaling harder? I’m gonna have to pass him! Those two guys up ahead are going to leave us in the dust!” And then I realized what was happening: I was drafting! I’ve always sworn I would never feel safe enough to get that close (and I never did on inline skates). But 25-30 miles into a long ride where I’m trying desperately not to be dropped by “the big boys,” my legs don’t care about my fears. I never realized how nice it could be to spend a few moments soft pedaling while the burn in my muscles gets a chance to subside. And actually, our wheels weren’t that close, just close enough.

And that’s where I am now:  just close enough to taste the bright future promised by my sexagenarian fitness program.