Chocolate cake

Chocolate.

I recoil ever so slightly when, upon finding out I'm into cycling, an "ah-ha" moment washes over people wondering how I lost and keep off all this weight. Scanning for some sort of easily explainable reason I could possibly drop more than 70 pounds, they finally pounce on the fact that I ride a bike, and to them, it explains it all.

"Oh, so that's how you stay so thin," they'll say, or some variety.

What a strange time and space we occupy where it's simply unbelievable that someone could lose a ton of weight without being on some strict diet or being a kettle-bell throwing fitness freak.

I understand, I guess. It's part of the world we live in. Everyone wants to know the shortcut, because everyone uses the shortcut. And I guess it would be disingenuous to say that cycling has had nothing to do with losing weight. It obviously has. I lost a considerable amount of weight before I even bought the Peugeot, though, and I'm convinced that all these CrossFit crazy people are at least slightly misguided. I think keeping trim is mostly about eating right. Just look at that food pyramid the doctor always told you about, and that's sort of my guide.

Sometimes I do feel like the miles I put on my bike do, shall I say, allow for some slop in the system, however, and that brings me to chocolate, my true love. My middle guy's birthday cake request was chocolate cake with a ganache frosting. Yes, my 10-year-old requested ganache as his topping.

Who am I to argue? I went to my go-to. What recipe is that, I am always asked? I proudly tell them it's the "Perfectly Chocolate Cake" recipe on the back of the Hershey's Cocoa label. I actually find product recipes to be some of the best there are. For example, there' s a great recipe for cookies on the back of Reese's Pieces.

I've often considered making a different chocolate cake, but the label really is truth in advertising: it's perfect, and I just can't bring myself to mess with it. There's an odd step at the end with boiling water that I don't understand, but why question it?

The only audible I called was my son's request for the ganache. I just poured hot cream over about 8 ounces of semi-sweet chocolate, and that was it. I made the "Perfectly Chocolate Frosting," which is also on the back of the cocoa container, and used a whole cake's worth in between the cakes.

The cake is delicious. I know restaurant food is a different way of cooking, but this cake is something I would put up against anything in any bakery. I'm not bragging--it's simply that good. It's moist (I think that's the boiling water part), and unlike box cake, it tastes like chocolate. That's the thing about from-scratch baking with chocolate. The end result ends up tasting like chocolate. A little bitter, a lot sweet, a little coffee-ish.

So I had a huge slice and part of a few others, and it felt wonderful and right and why would you ever want to deprive yourself of something like that?

Check out the geese in the background. Coes Pond, Worcester, Mass.

Yes I rode yesterday and today, but not in some frantic race to balance out what I ate. I rode because I wanted to ride my bike. If it happens to absorb the dietary blow of eating wonderfully good food, then that's a bonus. I suppose that's one of the great things about cycling--it's a hobby that's actually incredibly good for you.

The end of the tunnel

The Ernest A. Johnson Tunnel is a short little bypass of Lincoln Square that squirts you out onto Main Street from under Lincoln Square. It's a superfluous road in a section of the city that doesn't really need a tunnel, but I love it, for no other reason than there's something viscerally cool about a tunnel.

My favorite part of riding through the tunnel is coming out of it. That contrast of dark and light just adds, I don't know, something theatrical. It makes it an event.

It's fun, and the general rule I employ is that if it's fun, it's fun on a bike, too. I have been looking for new places to take the Fuji and I have enjoyed every inch I've traveled on my shiny new bike. It has truly been a great experience, and it has only been a few weeks.

New bike.

"And then you just press this button with your thumb to go toward the harder gears," said Peter, the owner of Barney's Bicycle, said as he demonstrated how to use the integrated brake/shifters.

I'd love to say that with that simple, bike jargon-free explanation, he sealed the deal with me on the stunning new Fuji Sportif 1.7. That's almost exactly what I say to my son when riding with him and trying to get him in the right gear. Make it harder. Make it easier. I have no idea what high gear or low gear or what numbers they are.

But by then, I had already made up my mind in two ways--I was leaving that bike shop with a bike that day, and Barney's had sealed the deal months ago.

Barney's operates a new bike shop at Park Avenue and Coes Street, and keeps open its old shop for used sales and repair (It's called "Chandler Bike" now). Chandler Bike is a revelation. The used bikes, I have come to realize, are ridiculously overpriced. But they have an impressive array of do-dads and oddball parts in all different sizes for even the most obscure projects. They are friendly and courteous, and humor people like me who have the most harebrained ideas with the most godforsaken bikes.

The good service extends to the new store, as well. They have no qualms about selling you a few bearings or cable crimps or bar end plugs. It's a nice, airy place to be.

So once my wife gave me the go-ahead, I knew my first-ever new bike experience at a bike shop would be Barney's. I don't have much experience with other bike shops, but I enjoy the easy-going feel to the place. It lacks any hit of the elitism that infects so much of the cycling world.

The Fuji was the cheapest road bike available at Barney's. I wasn't necessarily approaching it that way, but it was certainly a factor. I wish they had more options in my price range, but I guess that was the compromise I made when I decided I wanted to buy the bike from a particular shop. That said, it appeared to be a good deal on that particular bike.

It sports Shimano Tourney-level shifting and braking components. That's the lowest teir of Shimano's offerings, surely scoffed at by the carbon fiber types. But it's all relative. The Peugeot is a friction-shifting 10-speed mountain bike made in France in the early 1980s. The light years of progress I made just by moving up to modern braking and indexed "brifter" shifting give me no real reference point from which to judge. I just know it's better.

And that's how I wanted it, in many ways. When I bought the Peugeot two years ago, I wanted a used, basically functioning bike to re-learn cycling on. Some part of me wanted to "learn the old ways" so I got a full appreciation of how a bike worked and functioned.

Friction made me a better rider, I think. It requires much more organization and planning about what gear you want to be in at any point in time. It's a deliberate, gradual mechanical system that relies a lot on feel. Does it feel like the chain is solidly in gear? Do I need to trim it back a little? Is it worth shifting right now?

I absolutely love the new system. Shifts are smooth and crisp, and it's an easy system to learn on. It becomes intuitive after one ride, and I'm impressed with how the front derailleur action, typically the toughest part of shifting, functions. If I had to guess the difference between the Tourney set I have and something like Ultegra or Dura-Ace, it's probably something to do with more crispness, maybe faster shifts, or maybe a more robust feel. But who knows? Maybe I'll find out someday.

What I really love about the Fuji is the frame. It's beautiful to look at, and that blue paint was a major draw. Bikes seem to be either black or white or silver these days; I specifically wanted a splash of color. I am going to have to ride this bike every day; I want it to be pleasant to look at. 

From what I've read about the Fuji Sportif, the all-aluminum frame is the same geometry as the high-end carbon Fuji Gran Fondo. It leans toward the comfort end of the road bike spectrum, and I can confirm it's a spectacularly comfortable bike.

It's a big bike, at 59 cm, but I wanted it that way. It feels like I can really stretch out while riding it, although on the hoods I perhaps stretch a little too much. I may try a slightly shorter stem (the XL Sportif employs a 110 mm stem, which is pretty long), which I think will make it perfect.

It rides quiet and smooth and light, and again, it's all relative. But I can't seem to get enough of my new blue Fuji. I took it up over Aiport Hill the other day, which two years ago I would never have even attempted. I never felt that nervousness that I was going to stop or fall over or go backwards. The bike just pulls, and I think I finally realized what bike dorks talk about when they say "acceleration."


Worcester has famously bad roads, and I cringed a few times going over some unavoidable ruts. The Fuji has an aluminum fork, which is fine, but I immediately realized why the bike dork community always recommends chrome-moly or carbon forks. They just soak up the bumps better.

It's a great bike, but then again, I think the conventional wisdom these days is that most new bikes made today are great bikes. Of course it's more than that. This awesome little bike is a dream realized. Something I visualized happening. It represents my full immersion into something I've become quite passionate about. I love riding my bike, and I love bicycles. I love what they've done for me, physically and mentally, and I love what they represent about life, society, and good, healthy living. There's nothing like the sights, sounds, smells, and physicality of riding a bike. It has helped me learn so much more about my city and my area, and so much more about myself.

That's a whole lot of emotion and philosophy packed into a Chinese-made 23-pound amalgam of aluminum and rubber and steel. But it doesn't matter so much when you're out on the road. Nothing really matters as much, really. It's volume gets lowered as you concentrate on the road ahead. When's the next turn? Will I have to take the lane? What's the hill situation over there? Can I get a tailwind, or is Mother Nature messing with me? Do people really throw this much glass out the window? How much pot are they smoking in that car? Those are the only questions that matter out there. Just you and the bike. Communicating.

Project Univega mixte

It's done. With new brake pads and some final cleaning and waxing, it finally reached the point in the project when there truly wasn't anything left to do.

On a shakedown ride earlier in the week, the bike performed flawlessly. It is a very, very nicely-riding bicycle. If I ever come across another Univega project, I will scoop it up.

It's heavy, no doubt, but it doesn't mess with what works, I guess is how I would describe it. The solid Suntour drivetrain still shifts clean and crisp, and the Dia-Compe center-pull brake calipers are surprisingly strong. 

Yes, it has turkey levers, but like a minivan, you can't deny their utility. 

The saddle received the full tear-down/rebuild treatment, and is quite comfortable, at least over short distances, and the new black wrap can be swapped out for something more adventurous at any time. 

The 27 by 1 1/4 Araya rims were a pain to clean, but it was worth the elbow grease, and some patience was rewarded after a few days of brake pad truing.

I reused the chain, mostly to get some experience doing it. My bike book gave a good tip not to fully push out the chain roller, so you can push it back in. It worked, and while I probably should have done another round of degreasing before reinstalling, it functions just fine. 

What a fun project. The big takeaways from this one would probably be that it's amazing what a thorough scrubbing will do; that Barkeeper's Friend does amazing work removing rust from chrome; and that it's worth trying to save an old chain. 

If I keep it, I'm thinking fenders and rack and yellow bar tape. If I sell it, I expect I'll at least make my money back. Either way, the process in this case was its own reward.

Yeah, I'm just gonna go ride a bike

Headstone at a local cemetery.

The weather apps seemed a bit bleak this week, but so far it has been reasonably warm and pleasant. Each day this week it has been a quick and easy decision. Guilt about not getting enough done around the house has been building, however, and the weather may not end up being the determining factor for the rest of the week.

Don't be jealous of my sweatshirt "kit." 

For today, however, the riding was splendid, and I took a rare spin down Granite Street to add a few miles. The hills are nicely spaced so momentum just pushes you up the next hill. Before and after the junkyards, it's a nicely wooded, quiet ride, and a right on Cliff Street spits you out across from the bike path parking lot.

The Pug is bullet proof, always a trusty ride.

Earlier in the week a brief cross-border raid into Millbury took me over or under three major highways for the day: I-290, I-90, and Route 146. It's nice to be able to make route adjustments on the fly. I wanted to go up Upland Street to get home with slightly less hassle than having to back under 290, but Upland is a mini-beast of a few long, kinda steep hills.

Rarely do I venture over the bridge.

A quick left onto Spofford Road cuts those hills in half. It's such a neat area over there; my iPhone ride-bys don't do the neighborhood justice. There are these huge vegetative areas that still haven't been developed, and they're just beautiful. It's surrounded by these big hills, so it reminds me if Central America or some mountainous land. Really cool.

Upland.

The true revelation, however, was after the ride when I whipped up some zucchini fritters. I envisioned a sort of burger, and it worked in that sense, but they would be just as good with some sauce on the side or maybe some caramelized onions. 

Fresh chives from the unkillable chive plant in the backyard.

Only looking at the picture do I now realize how huge that piece of salmon was.

And here's a gratuitous grilled salmon shot from the weekend. I would eat a salmon jumping out of the river, grizzly bear-style, if I could. It is my most beloved fish. It needs little to be spectacular, which is probably my biggest folly. I simply don't do too much to it. 

Wonderful stretch

Southbridge Street, tailwind.

Recent weeks have blessed me with good riding and good eating. Today, for example, the temperature soared into the 70s, reminding me about why I love spring so much. Riding in the winter has its own set of enjoyments and rewards, but there's nothing like simply lacing up the sneakers, throwing on the helmet, and hitting the road.

Grass and dandelions.

It's views like this all over the place as lush grass still waits for its first cut. Everything is just so lush and colorful this time of year. The trees and their various buds, flowers popping everywhere. The things you have the time to notice on a bike.

Pasta with vegetables and basil-garlic oil.

Recent months have revealed a bit of a food rut on my part. Not anything as desparate as losing my love for cooking, but just a general un-adventurousness, if that's a word (it's not). My wife shaking up her eating habits has in turn forced me to stretch a bit, and I've been inspired to work on little things like the basil/garlic oil I whipped up for this pasta dish. Pasta dishes like this fill my plate several days a week, but the quick, easy herb oil makes it interesting and new and fresh all over again.

Ball bearings, herded back into the headset.

New and fresh and all over again has been the wonderful experience so far with the Univega mixte. It's just about wrapped up, and it went back together nicely. Look for details in an upcoming post. Here I was repacking the headset bearings. They seemed in good shape if a little dirty, so I cleaned them the best I could with household kitchen cleaning being my chemical exposure limit. The bungee cord holding the fork on was a godsend, and while it took three days to pick up all the loose ball bearings that scurried all over the floor upon disassembly.

Riding in warm weather, learning the contours of a fascinating old bike, anticipating the new road bike some time soon, and enjoying time with the family. In such an uncertain, anxiety-ridden world, there is much to be happy about. The fundamentals are sound.

Project Univega

Last weekend my wife warned that some rain was forecast for the week. I had been looking for a project bike beyond my endless loop of 24-inch mountain bikes, so I figured it might be a good week to keep an eye out for something cheap to work on.

Later that day I stopped by the Salvation Army on my way to the grocery store. I stop in semi-regularly to see if any hidden jewels show up, and while I'm not sure it's a jewel, I've been rather impressed with the $8 Univega Mixte I spied that rainy Saturday.

For $8, the fact that every part was there and functioning on a basic level was impressive. From what my cursory internet searching has turned up, my best guess (since there are some stickers/decals missing) is that it's a late 70s "Super Ten" model. It seems the Super Ten was Univega's entry-level assortment of good but basic components with a sort of heavy hi-ten frame.

One thing that seems to be said often of Univegas was that they were good bikes for the money in their day, and I'd have to agree with that, even though it's in a million pieces in my basement right now. The Suntour/SR drivetrain is honest and of good quality.

The Dia-Compe brakes seem like they might get a little finicky, but they are in great condition.

I love the saddle; there's some fraying near the bottom on one side, but it seems to be in pretty good condition.

There's something appealing about mixtes. It's way too small for me, but I guess mixtes were never intended to be thought of strictly as women's bikes. It just seems to have turned out that way. But I love that continuous bisected line from head tube to dropouts--it's like a bike with foul lines. The lugs are elegant and have nice paintwork surounding them.

My plan is to simply put it back together again. I'm repacking the bearings in the bottom bracket and the headset. The Shimano hubs laced to Araya steel rims seem perfect, so I'm not messing with them just yet. If I was going all out for a bike for my wife or something (she did raise an eyebrow of interest, so who knows), I'd switch out the rims, maybe go to an indexed setup in the rear, and replace the turkey levers in front and move to an alloy drop bar. Brooks saddle? Porteur-style bars? The sky's the limit, I guess.

But my limit is limited here. I spent $8, and I shelled out an additional $38 for new tires, bar tape, and cables (I still need tubes). So for around $60 invested, I should be able to turn a profit no problem.

In the meantime, the Univega is pretty much mission accomplished keeping me busy. It has been a joy to work on.

Stopping

I'll admit it--I like Strava. I like looking at a map of where I just went. I get jazzed when one of those little trophies pops up, although the other day the air partially went out of my balloon when I realized that my "second best time" going south to north on Mill Street was just that--I almost beat my own personal best. I was 67th or somewhere near there when stacked up against other cyclists.

I figure I'm pretty safe right now with my free-level membership, and I obviously don't take it too seriously. But I have noticed I have to tell myself every so often that it's not a race. I don't need to aim for a target speed or calorie burn or longest ride.

Today I rode down to the Blackstone River Bike Path, and it's as wonderful as it always is. The rains have swollen the mighty river, and as I approached, the thought crossed my mind that someone has probably Strava'd their time on the path, and I pedaled harder thinking I might rate. 

It was silly and harmless, but I had to tell myself to stop and get off the bike. It's beautiful, and it's not 20 degrees like it was in March. 

It's okay to stop. Stop and take a drink. A look. A bite to eat. It's like golf and rally racing--you're only competing with yourself. 

The way of nature

Obadiah Hadwen loved trees, and I love him for that. He donated the land for which Hadwen Park is named, and it's a wonderful place to ride through. 

My eyes-on-the-prize goal is a road bike, and I'm told by the Power That Is that the day is coming soon, perhaps in the next month or so. But what I haven't told the Power That Is is that I've developed a hankering for mountain biking. 

Now it's not as big a problem as it might seem; my vaguely imagined plan is that if I came across a halfway decently put-together mountain bike of any vintage for dirt cheap, I'll scoop it up. 

But it's riding through places like Hadwen that really gives me the hankering. It's just nice being out in the dirt, away from traffic and glass and sewer grates and potholes. It's always nice to be near water. And cemeteries. 

It's times like these when it dawns on me that I am more fully submersed in modern bike culture than I thought I was. Padded shorts. Dreams of a road bike and clip less pedals. And now the storied "N+1" affliction. How many bikes will wander into my basement? 

 I submit myself as a full-fledged, triple-butted bike dork.

The long ride

The numbers don't lie. It's true--I averaged 0.0 miles per hour.

The big cycling goal this year is simply to just pile on the miles. Longer rides, more adventurous routes, perhaps a tour or charity ride or two seem like tangible targets. It has been two years; I am in shape, and feel perfectly capable of the distance.

The other morning, after fixing my sunglasses with a tiny little screw and my long thumbnail, I filled a water bottle, drank some water, and headed out on a ride.

Just over 31 miles later, I returned home. What a fantastic feeling it was, putting that much distance on the bike. My legs felt a little weak, and there was some soreness in my knees, but other than that I felt no different than if I had just completed an 8 or 9-mile jaunt.

Getting this nice long ride in gave me some good data. It told me that my bike must be at least a halfway decent fit for me, and is in great working order. I never had any leg numbness or extreme pain anywhere, and I wasn't even sore the next morning.

It told me that next time, I might want to pack a snack or two, even though it was still a relatively short ride in the whole scheme of things. Maybe just some granola or a banana.

It told me that mapping out a route in your head and actually riding it can be two different things, and that details matter.

Cutting through Webster Square and onto Mill Street, I made my way up Olean to the reservoirs. It's nice scenery and nice roads. It gets really hilly, though--the reservoirs have to collect that water from somewhere.

My mini-backpack is trespassing.

I did succumb in a few spots in Paxton and had to walk it a bit. I'd say I walked no farther than a bit less than a quarter mile the whole ride. That's what I was talking about with the planning. Perhaps next time a little recon in the car beforehand would go a long way.

The sun was out, although it was chilly for late April. But the big challenge was the wind. God that wind was horrible. Gears aren't only useful for hills; they are invaluable, I found out, for heading into brutal winds. I knew what I was getting into checking the weather forecast. It was a northwest wind, so I figured if I rode into it on my way out, I'd get the wind behind me on the back half of my ride.

It didn't quite work out like that. The wind was brutal the entire way to the reservoirs, but then it miraculously died out. Perhaps it was all the hills providing some sort of barrier, I don't know. But once I got to the hills, it was pretty much the hills that were tough, not the wind.

Well, the wind did contribute to me almost getting killed. Yeah, I'm not exaggerating. I almost got killed by a falling tree. I had just completed a disastrously long detour due to a wrong turn taken after a picturesque stop at Paxton center.

I have a thing for cemeteries, I guess. This is a really really old one.

What I was thinking I don't know, but I decided I knew where to take the turn for Route 56, a road I've driven down in a car dozens of times in my life.

Turns out I was very wrong, and I ended up in the wilds of Spencer until getting back to 56. As I coasted down a hill toward the intersection of Paxton Road in Leicester, I heard the unmistakable crack of a tree about to fall. A few loud cracks, increasing in frequency, just to my right. For a split second the thought crossed my mind to take a look and try to gauge where it was going to fall and get out of the way, but I instead decided just to pedal as fast as I could toward the intersection. I blew through the intersection, figuring my chances of surviving getting hit by a car were better than being crushed by a tree. As I got to the middle of the intersection I heard and felt the giant old tree fall to the ground.

Those limbs were huge, I swear!

I turned around and saw the wreckage in the road. the bulk of the trunk stayed in the woods, but some big limbs sat in pieces in the road, right where I had been. A couple pulled up, and the woman in the passenger seat rolled down her window and said, "Boy you dodged a bullet there, eh?"


I agreed, composed myself, took a couple pictures, and headed on my way, knowing I had used up my free pass for the day.

The reward for this harrowing experience came at the top of yet another climb, seemingly toward some Star Wars--esque cloud city.

Oddly enough, this was one of the milder climbs I had to do that day

I've driven around here many times--I used to drive around here with the kids in the car when they were babies and it seemed they would only stop crying when in a moving car. But it's a whole new world on a bike. You think something is coming up, but it's far away. You didn't notice what a nice view a certain vantage point provided. You didn't notice that farm. Those sheep. That nice old house.

A landing plane would have really knocked this pic out of the park

Route 56 goes along the backside of the Worcester Regional Airport. It's just a nice place to be on a sunny day. My bike almost blew over after I leaned it against the fence. But this is really what the destination was when I mapped out the ride in my head. On this day, this is where I wanted to be. It took an extra 45 minutes or so because I was where I didn't want to be for a time. But no matter. Besides some apologizing for wildly underestimating the time I was gone from home, there was really no penalty. It made it better. And it produced that nice big number on my bike computer.

My reward? A simple roasted chicken, cooked according to legendary chef Thomas Keller's old recipe. It's not even a recipe, really. I did brine the chicken first, which he doesn't mention. But then I just threw it in the skillet and put it in a 450 degree oven for about an hour and 15 minutes. It's delicious every time.

My go-to chicken. Basically throw it in the oven. You won't be disappointed.

My city

In the course of following more bike blogs and advocate/activist groups, I've noticed there's a huge emphasis on whether a particular city or town is "bike friendly." 

I would break down the particular bike-friendliness of an area into two categories: culture and infrastructure. 

In Worcester, it's hard to say whether the infrastructure is quite there yet, or whether it's pretty decent considering what it's like in other cities. I dnt have a heck of a lot of perspective, but compared to, say, Cape Cod, Worcester falls behind. But jeez the Cape is amazing. You can basically get to wherever you want to go mostly using dedicated bike paths. That's never going to happen in Worcester. 

Worcester has it's end of the Blackstone, and there are random bike lanes here and there. Construction is supposed to start soon on an extension of the path up to Union Station, but that seems to be about it right now.

As far as riding a bike in the city goes, I find it easy and enjoyable. Take Mill Street, which I meandered down the other day. I was told recently that the wide shoulder was actually conceived as a bike lane. You wouldn't be able to tell, but there is one of those "bike route" signs. Bike lane or breakdown lane, it's very nice and long, and there's nice scenery to chew on. 

Even in the thick of city traffic, it's not too bad. Chandler Street is a nice climb and a chance to pay respect to the place where it all started, Chandler Bike (it was still Barney's then, but technically it still is). Just under two years ago the Pug rolled out of there all nice and not shiny. 

I think what I'm finding is that the infrastructure, quite simply, isn't as important as the culture. And right now, from where I pedal, that comes down to how drivers treat you. 

And one of the revelations of my adventures in cycling in and around the city is just how expectation and stereotype-defying 99 percent of motorists are when I'm on a bike. Sure there are some bad apples, as with all aspects of life. Nobody and no city is perfect, and besides being the recipient of the odd yell out the windshield or having someone make a big show of how they're gunning it by you the first chance they get, I find that most drivers most of the time just give me the room or time I need, and pass by when they feel it's safe. 

If anything, weirdly enough, some of my biggest peeves come not out of unfriendliness but of too much consideration. For example I don't like when people stop everything to let me turn. It makes me feel pressure to do so, even if I don't feel it's safe. And I also would rather a driver pass me closely, than leave some exaggerated wide berth around me. It makes me feel like I'm going to cause an accident. 

So I guess I'd say that in my experience--obviously everyone's opinion is shaped by their own personal experiences--Worcester is a pleasant place to ride a bike. 

Easter

A morning spent watching the kids revel in Easter greatness, it seemed a good afternoon to head out on a newer route I've been trying out lately. 

I pretty much ride alone so there is little frame of reference to how much climbing other cyclists do. But I feel like I do an inordinate amount of it. 

Maybe all cyclists feel that way. Partly because of time constraints, and partly because of a sort of ethos I seem to be ahdering to that says it's a bit silly to drive your bike somewhere so you can ride it (I think I'll realize this is ridiculous sometime soon), hills are just plain unavoidable in my little neck of the woods. 

Today took me out to Auburn for a nice 11-mile run around some water, because in Auburn it seems like there's a lake around every corner. I suppose that explains the hills, too, to a certain extent.

 

These are quiet little roads on any day, but it was nice to have such little traffic on the holiday ride. It's funny the things you notice on a bike. For instance, on a bike there's much more time to realize who is having an Easter gathering--cars packing up a driveway and spilling onto the street. There were a lot of people just sitting outside in their front yards today, which was nice to see. I didn't see another cyclist. I am sort of curious what the big bike thoroughfares around here are, because the typical cyclist I encounter is some guy going the wrong way on the sidewalk or pretty clearly getting to work the only way he can since his DUI. 

Maybe that will be my hill solution. Go where the spandex-clad cyclists are. Because for all the talk about challenging themselves with climbs, my guess is they know the long, flat routes that fill up their mileage logs. 

I am acutely affected by that sort of obsessive self-convicing behavior where I decide something is the way it is, and I put the blinders on. One thing I've convinced myself of is that I need cycling shorts, and I think history will judge that this is not one of those times I just talked myself into something. 

My mileage hasn't gotten extremely longer, despite my willingness to put more distance on my plate. Still, butt soreness is about the only complaint I can come up with, regardless of distance. I don't really get a sore back; my hands get a bit sore, but that's because I have unpadded, shellacked cotton handlebar tape and I don't wear padded gloves, so I know I'm sort of asking for it in that respect. My knees get a bit sore, but finely tuning my gear selection helps alleviate that. 

I really enjoy a nice hard saddle, and I think it's much better ot have a harder saddle than a soft squishy one. That's probably why I don't have a lot of back problems, even in light of my bike being a drop-bar converted 80s French mountain bike with slightly smaller geometry than I probably need. 

But I feel that just a little bit more padding would do wonders for my comfort on the bike. A cushier seat I think would be too much. Plus it seems cheaper to try a set of padded shorts before going for a nicer and/or cushier saddle. d

.  

Saturday afternoons

Vacations with my boys are always crazy, stressful, tiring, and fantastic. Three little men who continue to impress and amaze me. 

Of course time off for them means my carefully honed routine gets tossed aside in favor of playground trips, backyard frolic, long, made-to-order breakfasts, and just time spent together. Wonderful hours burned off as the weather gets warmer and the sun feels just so nice on the skin. 

How do I find the time to ride a bike? The best way to describe it is probably that my riding schedule is like a firehouse. My bike is like the turnout gear sitting by the fire truck, boots and uniform perfectly ready for when the radio crackles a call over the air. 

Planning for an elaborate day built around a bike ride is simply a superfluous luxury for me right now. If the time is right, I will simply guzzle down some water, grab my phone (Strava dork in traiining!), and bolt into the basement, where the Pug awaits. In just a few minutes I'm plunging down the street to start a ride.

Any hesitation, any contemplation, is a debit on the ride itself, so it is not considered. So today, with my wife about to rise for her day and me finishing up mine, I surveyed my tired boys, who were laying around watching television and poking at their tablets after a long day of playing outside, for the most part and to to their credit. 

I needed coffee for Easter Sunday--not a day when you want to add an extra trip. So there was my carefully curated ride log. Coffee. 

"I'm going for a quick bike ride." I announced. "I'll be back." 

Off I went, downtown on a beautiful afternoon. Starbucks for some beans (and those chocolate-covered graham crackers that are, I believe the best thing besides the coffee there). I always feel like Captain Bike Commuter when my rides have a purpose or a destination. I get to lock my bike, and I wonder what people think when they see it. Whatever they think, I hope it includes a happy thought about how much they liked riding a bike as a kid. 

I don't do it enough to have a system down pat, so I tend to fumble with things. I'll put my wallet back in the backpack when I'm going to need it to pay. I'll put my keys back in my bag when I get ready to go when I need them to unlock my bike. Stuff like that. 

The weather is getting really wonderful, and the environment is following suit. Not only is it getting warmer (although it was cooler than usual this week, but in a tolerable way), but everything is greening up nicely. The street sweeping is in full swing, which as a cyclist and driver I doubly appreciate, and I'm seeing more people riding, which is really nice. 

One of the teachers at my youngest's preschool was rejoicing at the weather the other day and talked about how it just lifts her mood. I agree wholeheartedly. I feel so much better now that it's nice out. I enjoyed riding through the winter (when I could--it was a nasty this year), but just a few weeks in, and spring has put much distance between me and those memories of staring out the window, wondering if the roads would be ok for a ride. 

Maybe, with this whole week off, I'll plan a nice long ride one of these days. Just take off for half a day and explore. Go somewhere and find a nice twisty route. Find some hills and a nice view and maybe some other riders to share the joy with. 

Riding all over the place

At the gym, what can you do when you get tired of the same old routine on the elliptical? Maybe change the channel on the tv display, maybe go with a different mix on the headphones?

That's the problem I developed with the gym--it's way too easy to get in a rut, and at that point the obstacles loom larger--getting to the car. Carving out the time. The drive there. Et cetera et cetera.

One of the many aspects of cycling that I have grown to love is that the gym dilemmas, which in essence is just convincing yourself that you aren't going to the gym, simply don't apply. 

When I shove the Pug through the basement doorway to head out for a ride, I usually pick one of about three or four more-or-less fixed routes. There's no real hierarchy; there's a quicker one,  hillier one, a few longer ones, and an easy one. 

If I ever get even a hint of feeling the monotony of going out on the bike, I know it's time to switch up the route. Today I took advantage of the almost instantaneously nice spring weather and blasted through the cemeteries, across Park Avenue, down Mill Street, down June Street, on to May, and eventually back home. 

I spent a lot of time riding bikes with a very good childhood friend in this neighborhood. It represented an amazing amount of freedom for a fourth grader. Just bombing around, exploring, with an occasional foray into the woods. In fact, I may or may not have fallen waist-deep into this brook at one point. 

It's still a little chilly in the morning, but I look forward to continually adding mileage. The different route today provided just the amount of newness, just the amount of fresh scenery to chew on, that in just 8 miles any hint of boredom with cycling was wiped away.