the tao of cycling: cleats and pedals

Saturday, May 15, 2010

cleats and pedals

these are all things I could write about today, having ridden the infamous Salt Lake Century earlier today:

the perfect riding weather
the million-and-one potholes on the streets
the fact that I went through a pothole and both my water bottles went flying
my forever-now-lost water bottle
how long it takes to catch back up to your team after you have to stop and look for water bottles
how nice the bad ass team members are
how many hundreds and hundreds of other nice people there were out there
the bugs I tasted
the other bugs I tried really hard not to taste
how much time I spent with my heartrate in zone 4B
how many people I flew past
how proud I am to wear a bad ass cycling jersey
how close I am to buying the bad ass cycling shorts that say you-know-what on the rear
the snow capped mountain peaks, from layton to sandy, that I was able to enjoy today
why century organizers insist on making their rides 104, 106, 108 miles......

but the only thing I really want to write about is the amazing sound of 60 cyclists clipping back into their pedals after stopping for a stoplight, then moving forward again when the light turns green. there is just something powerful and uniting about that sound. and as much as I love my time riding all by myself, in a strange little way I look forward to the next time I'm able to hear the sound of a slew of cleats clipping into pedals worn and owned by people who just might, possibly, enjoy that unifying sound almost as much as I do.

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the Male Ego

The other day I was coming down a canyon in my drop bars (two years ago I would have said, 'what's a drop bar?'), working hard, when I came up on two guys who were also heading downhill but at a more leisurely pace. I passed them, said hello as I did so, and pulled back into the bike lane. a few minutes later they went flying past me, faces looking dead ahead, not a single bit of acknowledgment that I even existed on this planet let alone was involved in and enjoying the same sport they were.
I have to attribute this to the male ego. what else can it be? now I know we all have egos, myself included. and mine even shows its ridiculous little head once in a while, or perhaps more often. but the difference between mine and say, those of certain men on bicycles, is that I KNOW mine exists and I can LAUGH at mine. I know my ego was quite excited to pass those guys, and I could also smile because I knew if the men had really been working like I was, they would have kicked my butt down the hill.
I think I pissed them off.
and I'm sure I will be sharing with you much more of my thoughts about the male ego . . .

a little history

I was married, and I had a mountain bike which I rarely rode. we separated, I moved out, and four months later someone stole my bike. the next spring, 2005, I bought myself a new mountain bike. I rode occasionally, and in april 2006 I rode in my first century, the Cactus Hugger in St. George, Utah. I made it 54 miles on that mountain bike, and it took me about 6 hours. I think that included the rest stops where I prayed that someone would steal my bike again . . .
in june 2006 I started riding my mountain bike five mornings a week, a 45-55 minute loop that was intended to be all about exercise. and what I found was that I loved the quiet, peaceful morning full of bird chatter and barely breaking sunrises. by that fall I was hooked, and began considering the purchase of a road bike. I rode up emigration canyon for the first time that Labor Day of 2006, panting and plowing along on my trusty (heavy) bike, and a month later I was the proud owner of my own road bike: I had become a two-bike girl!
a 17-week-long "power camp" over the winter and a handful of new friends kept bicycling front and center in my life, and when spring of 2007 rolled around I was ready to hit the pavement. I rode my first century the end of april, when I again went to St. George and completed that Cactus Hugger. it took me about 7 hours, but this time I rode the entire 100 miles with about 9300 feet of vertical gain. woo hoo!
I started riding canyons around our area, emigration and millcreek, city creek, big cottonwood, little mountain and big mountain, and once--yes, only once--little cottonwood.
then in september of 2007, I rode from Logan, Utah, to Jackson, Wyoming, in the slightly infamous LOTOJA race. I rode, I did not race. and I completed the thing, crediting my good training buddies, the incredibly perfect weather, my support team, and an amazing convergence of all things positive in the universe.
I put in about 3500 miles last season, and as of today, july 19, 2008, I have about 1700 in, adding to it every day.
I have again signed on to ride the LOTOJA race, and my goal is to have just somewhere near as great a ride as I did last year. oh, and to have someone fun to talk with along the way as I got incredibly bored last year . . . star valley is still a nightmare scene in my biking memories . . .
and here is a picture of the machine that has helped me reclaim my life.