A week ago a friend asked me what my most memorable cycling moment was this year... Although I couldn't think of just one, the question resonated with me. So without further adieu.... My Top Five Most Memorable Cycling Moments from 2008, in no particular order:
#1: Odocoileus virginianus - On one of my morning commutes in April, through the back woods of Dover, MA, I noticed an something large moving parallel to me in the woods. I couldn't make it out, my impression was of a large dog or wolf; either way, not exactly something I wanted to tangle with. I stared, trying to get a better idea of what it really was. And that's when I saw it. My line of sight crossed something and in an instant my mind deconstructed the camouflage and revealed the scene: A Doe, running back to the protection of the herd, passed behind the Buck, sternly staring down the threat as it passed.
#2: Canis lupus familiaris - Early this year, I was attacking one of my fitness check routes. I had just pounded it up the route's steepest hill and switched to the big gear for the descent.
The descent is tricky, not because it is particularly technical, rather because it's a street with houses and pot holes. You constantly have to scan the right side of the street for cars, car doors, and children.
On this day, I was doing just that, watching the houses on the right side of the street, before I relaxed enough to scan left... and that's when I see him.
Ten feet out, at full speed, and on an intercept course, a full grown dog.
My first thought was I don't want to hit the dog; my second thought, of course, was I don't want to get bitten by the dog. I hit the brakes and start to lean left (the idea being to turn under the dog, having him pass me on the right). It is about this point that the 2nd objective kicks in: How do you plan on avoiding being bitten by going slowly? Self preservation, I suppose, takes over, I release the brakes, shift to a higher gear, stand, lean right, and start pedaling. The dog, apparently thrown off my my first adjustments, unable to correct in time, drifts his rear around and takes chase.
The second I saw him miss, and take chase, I knew it was over. During the initial encounter I was in the 20mph range, now I'm motivated, on an adrenalin high, and in a larger gear. The dogs only chance is endurance, but his owners who watched this all play out (before I rocketed by them) but a stop to that, grabbing him before we could see who could go farther.
The real reason I wanted to avoid being bit had nothing to do with being bit by a dog; it had to do with not being able to live down being bit by a Poodle. My foe in this story was a black full size poodle.
#3: Geococcyx velox - Dover, MA has to be one of the road cycling capitals of the state. Very rarely do I pass through that town without seeing other cyclists. Even during my early morning commutes, I see at least one or two club rides, always going in the opposite direction. This day was no exception.
Waving Hi to the club, and staying over for cars, meant, on this day, running over glass. Or more accurately put, trying to weave between pieces of glass.
Half a mile or so down the road, I hear the rhythmic click-click-click, of a piece of glass is stuck in my tread. Immediately I pulled over to clear the tread.
The problem with "immediately" pulling over is you don't downshift, meaning when you start off again, you are way in the wrong gear. To make matters worse, I stopped at the base of a hill.
So, I'm in too tall a gear, forcing the bike up a hill (too proud to turn around, descent, and down shift), when a Time Trial bike rolls to my side. This rider had the advantage to being able to choose the correct gear and have a momentum assist, however by the time he reached my position on the hill all those benefits had been expended and it was just him and the hill.
For 10 or so feet we silently slogged our way up the hill like synchronized swimmers. Since we are laboring together, I figure we must have similar abilities, so I decide once we clear this hill, to give it a go and pace with him.
The plan works perfectly, we crest the hill, I slow slightly and tuck in behind him and for a few glorious seconds I am drafting the time trialist. Until I hear him shift, Click, Click and BAM he's off like a shot, no change in cadence, just a massive change in speed.
#4: Oreamnos americanus - In 2008, my number one goal was to complete the Mass Bike Pike tour. The number of hills and the overall length of the ride concerned me, so in May I decided to do a fitness test on a Category 3 climb up Mt. Holyoke, part of the Skinner State Park in Hadley, MA.
In an effort to warm up my legs, I did some quick sprints at the base. Not bright. Since it turns out that the steepest part of the Skinner assault is the first mile, which starts out at a brutal 13% grade (0.25 miles) before easing back to a 10-11% grade. By doing the sprints, then starting the climb, I put myself at a massive oxygen deficit, not quite the best way to start a fitness test.
I made it up the first part of the climb (very difficult) without stopping, however I can't say the same about the second half. All in all I stopped three times on this assault, each time letting my heart rate come down before continuing (the idea of walking a bike up didn't occur to me).
At the top, pride slightly dented, I paused, drank water, and prepared for the descent. This was my first mountain descent, so I didn't really know what to expect.
I started rolling and easily traversed the first turn; confidence (and speed) increasing, I set my gears. All to quickly, I came to the second turn (the first of the switchbacks), when I applied the brakes, the back brake locked up. Immediately I released and regripped (the cycling equivalent of pumping), however this momentary release, combined with my descent speed, was sufficient to pull me WAY out of the line necessary to traverse the turn. It became obvious I was going to crash into the earthen mound if I wasn't careful and lucky.
I leaned over as far as I'd dare, and using ALL of the road (save a half an inch or so) I was able to avoid crashing. However, I was fully committed to a left turn and in less than 5 feet I had an equally tight right turn. Miss this one and you go over the edge of the mountain.
Like a sports bike rider, I shifted my lean and (with my now greatly reduced speed) made the turn. Lesson learned, brake far more than you think you should during mountain descents.
#5: Buteo jamaicensis - The lessons learned on Mt. Holyoke proved very useful through the year, however one story exemplifies their utility. D2R2 is, in the best of circumstances, a difficult ride. Made worse for me by the fact my trusty steed decided that was the weekend to throw a temper tantrum.
Early on, I was riding at the front of the peloton, sufficiently behind the leaders not to get caught up in their misdirections, but close enough that I wouldn't be caught up in any crashes.
We tackled the first hill without difficulty, but on the second I threw my chain, on the following hill my rear wheel lost traction in the dirt and the bike went down. Needless to say these offs were sufficient to take me from the front of the peloton to "off the back." Extra-ordinary efforts were going to be necessary to reestablish contact.
Fortunately, the next section on the course was a downhill. I tore down those hills, powering where necessary, tucking in, and leaning heavily in turns. In short order, I could see the back of the field. Ten feet or so before properly reestablishing contact, the road turned off and started another dirt ascent, which resulted in my third and final fall. Many lessons were learned from the ride, but the highlight, by far, was rocketing down the hills to catch up with the field.
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