The plan to take the O.G. to work was pushed off from Monday AM to Tuesday AM thanks to a screaming bout of ankle pain that lasted about 16 hours, starting Sunday PM at about 9:00. So I took a sick day and while in a Motrin haze, decided that Tuesday would be just as good a day to put in about 48 hard miles on the fixie. Wife of Rouleur said "you are nuts!" but I thought she was talking about riding a good distance on the O.G. Little did I know...
Oh, the ankle? Nevermind. It was only a little sore. What could possibly go wrong with that during the ride?
On the way out to Bowie in the car this morning, I heard a snippet of the weather forecast. "Hottest day of the year... mid to upper 90's." I disregarded it because I know better, and nobody is telling me shit, right? Fortunately, I did pack two water bottles rather than the usual single.
The ride in was fun, and mostly uneventful. Sure, there was some interesting stuff, like hitting 35MPH and 180-some RPM on the steep hill at the end of Good Luck Road. But the ride was generally pretty easy because the hills on Rhode Island slope up gradually as you ride south, which makes them nice on a fixie.
They're exactly the opposite on the way out, and I had a number of epiphanies about riding the fixie long distances in tough conditions.
First, forget about the 48 miles thing. A fixie pulls about 50% more work out of you than a geared bike, and my legs sure feel like they rode 70, rather than 48.
Second, it was 95 out according to a number of bank thermometers and my cycle computer. On Rhode Island - a dark black tarmac, stuffed with 6 lanes of traffic, and big buses belching hot diesel smoke - it was probably 105 degrees. It was like an indian sweat lodge except without the solace of peyote and cool dreams, though admittedly avoiding the urine drinking was a +1 in favor of the bike ride.
Third... man, them are some long hills. Rhode Island is steep if you're northbound, and by the time I hit the big summit, I was gasping and it was hard to turn the pedals over. It was bad enough that a woman with her two young kids heard me gasping, gave me the hairy eyeball, and clutched her children closer to keep them away from the lycra-clad pervert.
The Rouleur Reacts Upon Cresting Rhode Island at 18th.
"I'm comin' Elizabeth," I said out loud to myself at one point. Near 100-degree temps are not optimal for fat men climbing hills on bikes, it seems.
Fortunately, I could coast down the hill to Mount Ranier...
Oh no I couldn't! Trying to spin 150 RPM down the hill after blowing my legs on the uphill made me realize: "Jim, you're a shithead." It made no sense to ride that bike today. There's no such thing as easy coasting on a fixie. It's all work.
Fortunately, I had cleverly frozen two bottles of water in the office fridge. I figured they'd melt as I rode, providing me cool water until I was at least past Lanham.
That was another bright idea that didn't exactly work out as planned. The front bottle was lukewarm and entirely melted by about 4th Street, Northwest; the back bottle was entirely melted by about 14th Street, Northeast. Turns out, the only thing that seemed frozen was my brain after I got up the big hill past route 201...
But make no mistake: the fact that the bottles were warm and filled with tap water that smelled like a cross between moldy Accellerade, soap, and armpit, and the fact that I was apparently suffering from some type of brain meltdown, did not stop me from guzzling the spit-warm water. It did not even slow me down.
So it was really hot at that point and I had the jersey unzipped, showing evidence of my bad eating habits to the entire world. I did not care. Nor could I tell whether the waves rising up off the pavement were heat distortions, or the first signs of a stroke. I did not care about that either. I just wanted to get the ride done.
How hot was it?
It was so hot, there were no joggers. Not even the transvestite jogger who is usually out when I'm riding through. There were other people on bikes, but they were the kind of people who ride bikes because they had no choice - no car, no Metro money, no options.
These people all looked at me like I had brain damage.
After an hour in that heat, I probably did.
Despite the strange heat, there was at least one familiar happening. This recent immigrant guy on a nice older 10 speed - I knew he was recent because his clothes were definitely not American in origin - decided to show me a thing or two, so he started hammering up Rhode Island. Which was cool because 21 or 22 is the maximum comfortable cruising speed. Mr. 10 Speed was going marginally faster than me, bobbing and gripping the handlebars with a death grip, swaying all over the road...
That's right. Different neighborhood, different language, different culture... same Pathlete behavior.
Patlética.
It is truly nice to know, truly edifying to discover, that riding like a jackass isn't limited to any particular demographic group, but that it's a scourge that cuts across racial, ethnic, economic and geographic lines. Why, look at Mark Cavendish, and the guy who just had to pass me today no matter what! That realization restored my faith in humanity, right there on the spot...
It worked out okay in the end. As I headed down into Bowie, cloud cover at least reduced my radiant heat problem, and a few dribbles of rain teased me. The O.G. and I got back to the car, and boogied the last couple miles home, where I took as cold a shower as the water supply of the Mean Streets of Crow-fton would permit.
Did I get anything out of it? Other than a couple highly variable workouts, some major efforts on a few hills, and a new condo in the same neighborhood as Heat Injury, probably not.
But I definitely learned a lesson today. That lesson is... I should try riding the fixie a bit further, all the way from my house. Hey, if 48 was *that* easy, 62 should be nothin'.
Well that, and if you're going long on the fixie, take your time doing it. There's no bailout option on a long fixie ride, you'd best save enough leg to get you home under your own power.
7 comments:
I'd like to point out that I've done much one and the same a weekend ago. It was a 100k ride devoted to MS fund-raising and Edy's ice cream. The latter lacks all flavor after said 62 miles but that's not the point. Immense cramps, debilitating me to full dismounts, after pounding through untold amounts of rolling hills on the fixie were unwelcome. I wanted to grab the filet knife and carve off every section that throbbed. At this point, I don't know if I want to shrink the rear cog so that the taint-thumping downhills suck less or unclip completely because I can't imagine future impotence will be fun. I'm in Raleigh for the summer. The conditions are very, very similar. What say you?
I say that if the Edy's lacked flavor after that ride, you clearly didn't get a pint of Percoset Crunch. You can mix it at home, or maybe they'll do it for you at Coldstone Creamery, by taking a handful of Percoset and mixing it in with the vanilla. Give it a shot and see how it works out.
As for the other... maybe try a saddle that is a bit wider and oriented toward supporting your sit bones rather than your taint. And get brakes if you don't have them. You can't really roll brakeless if you hope to go long on the fixie unless you're 114 pounds and you also have Fabian Cancellara's leg strength. Tapping the brakes to slow down, particularly when your legs are totally blown out already, is one of the most welcome bailout maneuvers I can think of.
I'll have to find that wrinkly set of prescription pads between my seldom used hiking boots and road kill pelt collection..
See, I worry it's fit too. In fact, I put on a leaner seat than before (Selle San Marco Regal to Serfas Furano) and I prefer the more narrow set. But now I worry it's my seat post. I have the seat set forward as much as possible on the rails and it's just about making it but no matter what, after a long ride, my flesh between the balls and the inner thighs (pardon the graphic naturalle) is always torn for days. The stem was shortened 2 cm because I was getting numb fingers after minutes and it may also be that I'm riding a track frame (Felt FK3) that's putting undue stress on me.
Def. sport the brakes, in front, and have hoods to hover over in traffic. I can't actually stop the bike fast enough on a downhill without them and I'd be a dickhead for riding "too cool."
I have ridden this far before but, in the Midwest. I'm getting tired of all this humble pie they keep serving me up.
>>>it may also be that I'm riding a track frame (Felt FK3) that's putting undue stress on me.
What I would do, from the sounds of it...
First, you definitely have a fit problem - whether it's setup or the bike's geometry isn't clear to me. You might consider finding out who the local fitting guru is then approaching them to get a fit. You don't need the $250 computerized fit, but just somebody who knows what they are doing like Les Welch in Harrisonburg VA. A really good bike fit can change your life.
The FiZik Antares might also answer the call for a saddle - wide in the back, and long with a narrow nose. Ass burn is a part of the fixed gear deal because you don't move a lot on the saddle yet keep pedaling the whole time, but it shouldn't be as severe as you describe. There may be other saddles with a similar profile, that one just struck me as a nice combination of little in the middle, but baby got back. I have a Sella San Marco Regal which really chewed up my ass the first few times I rode it but I now find it pretty comfortable because of the wide back, narrow nose and crowned shape. That's just me though; your butt may be shaped differently.
If that stuff doesn't work - were I in your shoes - I might consider swapping to one of the more utilitarian cross frames like the Casseroll or the Cross Check, or even an SS cross bike, to run fixed, just move your gruppo to the new frame. It's way easier to find a comfy position on a bike with traditional road geomtry than on super aggressive track geometry. It won't get rid of all the bouncing on the downhills but should help you find a more comfortable position on the bike to smooth out your spin a little.
YMMV...
BTW, since we have the same saddle... your taint shouldn't be getting pounded too much. Check to see if the nose is pointing up a tick too much. You'll also want to be sitting on it so your sit bones are bearing the brunt of your weight, and that they are near the back of the saddle in the widest spot. If you lower the seat height, you can move back some (stem permitting). Raise the saddle, and it moves you forward onto the nose of the saddle and your taint.
That's twice about the sit bone Jim...
I still hate boats.
-B
I'll give the seat post a tickling and see what I can do about height. I actually find that my knees and legs track well at the height but a little bit goeth a long way.
I also think it's the lack of road shorts. I wear tight baggies. It must be all the rubbing they do. Otherwise, the saddle was a little tilted - I hadn't noticed when I swapped seats.
All of the real big deal stuff will have to wait till I get a job and go come to loverly Chicagoland. I will totally opt for a steel cross bike as I do think I may want to start racing cross. I might go lighter than Surly though.
Let's hope the skin does well today. I've got a new group ride I've been hankering to find in the evening to test out. All will be real well, my nuts hope.
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