First week of self propelled commuting complete.
Shockingly, it took a full week before some kindly motorist thought I might be more comfortable if I was further over to the left. Even more surprising was the fact that the car in question had a bike rack attached to the boot! Possibly for collecting bikes from the ditches and hedges on his return journey.
This bike is a whole lot twitchier than my last "racer", twenty-ish years ago. The castor angle (thems of a non-technical bent may skip ahead a paragraph), possibly referred to in cycling circles as fork rake or head angle or something, doesn't look too extreme but I'm pretty sure that "look ma, no hands" style showboating is out of the question. Even for a one week veteran of the cyclo-commuting circuit such as I. Moreover, I feel like I should take back every chuckle, laugh and guffaw I ever uttered at a professional cyclist on Youtube for snotting themselves trying something as simple as a fist pump as they cruise toward the finish line, comfortably ahead of the chasing pack. The guy getting thrown over the bridge by the spectator is still pretty funny though.
The motorists, largely, have taken me by surprise with how considerate they are. The couple of Km of my commute along the Celbridge-Dublin Rd. was feared as, and remains, the dangerous stretch and the reason I won't be cycling to work once the mornings or evenings get dark (12 hour shifts shorten the cycling season considerably, I've just realised). Mostly the traffic overtakes me as though I was another car, crossing to the other side of the road to go around. Maybe 5% though, seem to think that if their passenger side wing mirror doesn't clip my elbow, they've left me more than enough room. Negligible margin of error aside, this presents a problem when coupled with the twitchy steering I mentioned above. Not wishing to delay traffic unnecessarily I try to keep far enough left that I'm not too much of a hindrance. The problem with being so considerate is, that's the part of the road where the drains and shores live. And most of the roadkill. And where the branches and nettles stick out of the hedges. So apart from my inherent instability. Excuse me, that should of course be, my bike's inherent instability, there is bound to be some small amount of weaving to dodge these obstacles. Just because I'm holding a reasonably straight line two or three feet from the side of the road, doesn't mean I won't need to avoid a corrugated manhole cover that's barely noticable at 50kph in a car but at 15-20kph is equivalent to a Kango hammer helping the saddle along it's reverse journey up the digestive tract.
The saddle. Yes, the saddle. The question has remained since last Friday whether the sore bum, aching notcher, pernickety perineum etc. etc. et-fecking-cetera, has all been to do with the interaction twixt saddle and arse, to use the vernacular. Having had the bike fitted and adjusted by a pro, I initially thought I just needed to get used to it. A few days of discomfort followed. By pure chance, while on holidays during the week, I discovered that www.ChainReactionCycles.com (one of THE web superstores for bike related gear) was only five minutes down the road so a tentative first visit was paid. A few pairs of proper shorts were acquired, with better looking padding than "baby's first cycle shorts" which came with the bike. The initial pleasure at the fit and padding, though, has been short lived, only lasting until bum contacts seat each morning and evening. It's far from a debilitating pain but, for me, it's a reminder that this, at best, isn't coming naturally for me. So today, rather than waiting for my body to morph into the shape of a Landis, Armstrong or Roche, I went out at lunchtime and adjusted the saddle a bit, dropped the height about 1/2 an inch and moved it forward on the rails a similar anount. Come home time, the first minute or two in the hotseat brought some discomfort, as you may rightly expect when the cause of a bruise comes into direct contact with the bruise. Beyond that, though, I felt for the first time that the sitting parts of my bum were the bits on the saddle. I don't feel there's any more luxury to come form buying more/better padded shorts. Also important to remember that my goal is to cycle to work three or four times a week and, if that proves enjoyable, spend a more leisurely and scenic hour or two in the saddle at the weekends. A wider or more comfortable saddle will be high on the list of potential buys.
I certainly haven't approached my fitness threshold on the bike yet. I'd love to think I could find my physical fitness limit, or approach it, before I have to go home with a sore BoBo.
Pedals have come into sharp focus this week too. Actually, I've discovered the world of bikes, pedals and, by extension, shoes. My bike came with fairly normal looking pedals which included toe clips. Unless I missed a meeting, the expected way to mount a bicycle is via the mini-scoot on one pedal, while the other foot engages it's pedal, and then it's onwards to glory. Not quite so with toe-clips, I'm afraid. With TCs what happens is, you start with one foot ready for maximun thrust, it's power barely contained in the clip/strap arrangement. You launch yourself away from the traffic light with all the gusto of somebody with "one of those jobs" chasing a goon around Dublin's landmarks for half a day, to win tickets to something that half a day's wages would have comfortably covered. But I digress. The first foot imparts a Herculean effort on it's pedal and, by proxy, the cranks and drivetrain and launches the bike off the line like a bride-to-be at the head of the queue for the Harrod's sale. In the meantime, sadly, the other foot has barely come close to engaging in it's toe clip and, thus, spends the next 5 minutes/ two dangerous junctions trying to worm it's way into a device that was supposedly designed for it.
This weekend I'll be checking Aldi to see if they've any shoes left, and maybe a jersey or two. I'll also be shopping in bike shops for hi-vis jackets and looking into pedals and shoe cleats that hopefully will hold my feet on the pedals while I'm transferring my awesome power to the road, but will also allow me have the use of my feet back when I start to topple at a set of lights. Quickly!
30 ish miles covered this week. I had been tracking and timing with GPS on the phone but figured there was little point in busting my chops trying to shave a minute or two off a 22 - 29 minute cycle when the wrong sequence of any of the three sets of traffic lights along the way could add 5 minutes. I will keep an eye on it though. Dropping the car over to a mechanic in Sandyford Ind. Est. on Monday and cycling back. Google maps tells me it's just a bit more than a return trip to work but already it feels more daunting :o Also quite looking forward to it. Plus, it will force me to use the bike to get in and out of work on nights next week.
Weight remains as near to 92kg as makes no difference, which I'm putting down to the well known fact that muscle weighs more than fat. I'm especially pleased to be gaining muscle at exactly the same rate I'm losing weight. No truer sign of a balanced diet/workout regime surely? ;P
Friday, 26 August 2011
Saturday, 20 August 2011
A degree of progress. More questions raised.
Day 2. Decided that today's task would be a dry run for the trip to work. The irony of that phrase will soon be apparent.
I had estimated the trip being about seven miles each way and had previously reckoned 20-30 mins to complete. Using the free, excellent and free Iphone App Runkeeper Pro (free at time of posting at the very least) I was able to log the trip. A previous chat with a friend with more experience than me, i.e. some, had reckoned that I was being a bit optimistic for a beginner. It actually shook out at about five and a half miles and the trip into work took 21 minutes at a comfortable pace. Having to cross the dual carriageway twice lengthened the return trip slightly and I got home in 25 minutes. A mixture of being more tired and the home stretch being more uphill is my excuse.
I should have paid more attention to my condition when I got there, 'cos when I got back home I was soaked in sweat and only fit for the shower. Hopefully within a few days of cycling in I can hope to be dry enough not to be needing the shower straight away.
The questions:
Top of the agenda is my tenderised barse. After a cycle I can sit back and I can sit forward. But if I sit at a particular angle, or on the edge of the bath watching my toilet training son doing his business I'm instantly transported back to the saddle and the world of associated pain. I need to decide if my first upgrade is going to be new shorts or a new saddle. I believe as I progress I will be spending less time in the saddle but at the moment it's a big concern for my perineum!
Also, the logistics of getting everything that's needed into work needs to be thought about over the next few days. Maybe a big bag of spare clothes and shower kit on day one and then just bring one or two things home for the wash every day. We'll see.
Just to ensure my self esteem got it's daily knock today, I had a play around with a BMI calculator. It confirmed that I was overweight. No shocks there. I then decided to play around with the figures to see what would be involved in getting myself a healthy BMI. Doing it the hard way I'd need to lose 12 kilos, or almost two stone. The easy way doesn't involve losing any weight, I'd just have to put on height. Five inches of height to be precise. I wonder who does Jedward's hair?
Just to ensure my self esteem got it's daily knock today, I had a play around with a BMI calculator. It confirmed that I was overweight. No shocks there. I then decided to play around with the figures to see what would be involved in getting myself a healthy BMI. Doing it the hard way I'd need to lose 12 kilos, or almost two stone. The easy way doesn't involve losing any weight, I'd just have to put on height. Five inches of height to be precise. I wonder who does Jedward's hair?
Stay tuned.
Friday, 19 August 2011
What the glaven have I got myself in to?
Day one.
Collected my new bike today from the shop. It's part of the government approved Bike to Work scheme which lets you buy a bike and associated equipment out of your pre-tax salary up to a value of €1000, saving up to 50+%, depending on your tax bracket. More info: http://www.bikescheme.ie/ Not having had any recent experience of bike buying, I was a little surprised when, rather than asking how much I wanted to spend, or how many bikes I wanted for my €1000, the more usual question was, "would you rather keep it at/under the thousand for the bike and gear?" I could tell I was already getting out of my depth!
A little history: My last experience of regular cycling was in and out of work and Bolton St. while I was serving my apprenticeship as a fitter. I can't tell you a thing about the bike. Who made it, where it came from or where it went to but it was silver and at the time it was modern enough because it had front and rear derailleurs, which were operated by levers ergonomically placed between your knees. 10 gears in total. Who could ever need more? First gear felt like the chain had come off and tenth felt like it had seized. The eight in between were useful enough and got me to college and work, quicker and cheaper than the bus ever could.
Back to the present. Thank you to Stagg Cycles in Lucan and Andy in particular for holding my hand through the whole selection process, not making me feel like an idiot for not knowing which crankset I wanted or which accessories were needed. I was a blank canvas and it's a credit to them that I didn't leave with a bike and a separate carload of accoutrements and an empty chequebook!
What I did leave with was a bike, a Trek 1.2. A vision in white and blue, it looks the part until I get on it. There is a big problem with the engine but more on that later. I also got a little bag that hangs under the saddle, containing a spare tube, puncture repair kit, tyre levers and tool kit. I got two locks. A serious U lock that at some point is going to mean the death of whatever I lock the bike to, and a handier cable lock for out and about style popping in to the shops for an energy bar and an electrolyte drink. As if!
The shorts, in conjunction with the saddle, deserve a paragraph all to themselves. First the saddle. I've grown accustomed, or rather my bottom has, to the comfort of car seats over the years. My cars have not always (ever?) been the freshest, nor the seats as supportive and cosseting as when they left the factory but, truth be told my arse has got used to expanding horizontally when I sit on it. So the shorts were an odd experience, and should have warned me about what was coming. Hurdle one: Lycra. Mr.Motivator and Bizzy Lizzy wore Lycra while doing morning exercises on breakfast TV when I was growing up. Even then you wouldn't dream of dressing like them in case you had the only two way TV to slip past quality control, and they could see you. So the Lycra was a slightly odd feeling. Not nearly as odd as the padding though! I'll be honest, if I was padding a pair of lycra bike shorts I may have a somewhat different agenda. But the guys that made these shorts had my comfort in mind. To that end, they contained a nappy with no dry nite absorbency or dry weave top layer. This nappy had one function, to stop the instrument of torture that is the saddle of the bike from chiseling it's way into my digestive tract. You know when you're stopped at traffic lights and you're watching the JCB across the road with the rockbreaker chisel breaking up the path/road. You can hear it hammering but it doesn't look like it's moving, but as you watch it's disappearing deeper into the ground? Yeah, that!
So, Lycra discomfort syndrome, coupled with the closest thing to a nappy I want to feel on my undercarriage until my kids are liquidising my food. AND IT DOESN'T WORK!! I can't imagine that the cycle would have been any less comfortable if the shop had omitted to fit the saddle.
Once the rain looked like it may be taking a breather, and the neighbours were notably asent from their front gardens, I decide it was time for the maiden voyage. My Lycra, eh, aversion, coupled with my common decency meant that a pair of cargo shorts were fitted over my skintight nappy shorts. Jacket and helmet donned and I was off. First thoughts: I'm going to die, if not today then soon. It seems to take about 10 minutes to get the second foot located in the toe clip of the pedal. Ample time for several SUVs, Jeeps and juggernauts to render me an interesting design near the gutter.
Wahey! Two feet engaged and we're off, heading toward the Newcastle road with the plan to go as far as the top of the Nangor road and down to the Outer ring and back towards home. We'll see. Not much in the way of suspension here, tyres are rock hard and my nappy doesn't seem to be repelling the saddle as well as I might have liked. Quarter of a mile down and I feel violated already.
Then came Adamstown.
You tend not to hear Dublin and San Francisco spoken about in the same terms when hilly cities are being discussed. Usually for good reason. SF is all about the hills, whereas in Dublin, if there's a hill we'll tell you about it by naming it such. Arbor Hill. Captain's Hill. Constitution Hill. And so on...
So it was with some surprise that I encountered Adamstown Hill for the first time. I've driven over it hundreds of times but it was always called the Newcastle road and never seemed too much of an incline. Today the word hill seemed too polite. It was my Hamburger Hill! (Yes, ironically I was regretting the double sausage and egg mc.muffin I'd had for breakfast today). Near the bottom of the hill I passed a kid on a BMX huffing and puffing a bit (him not me). I dropped a few gears and continued my ascent like a boss. I was ok at trigonometry in school but I struggled today to remember the bit where metres at a slight angle are exponentially longer than flat metres. Every pump of my legs produced a burning sensation that was only nudged into second place in my priorities by the thoughts of this little shitbag passing me on the way up the hill!
At the top of that hill I gave serious thought to moving to Holland. Then I remembered they have trains there too.
I reckon I managed about two more miles before I was back home wondering what have I done. I had a time of 20-30 mins in mind for my commute to work, but after today I'm going to have to re-evaluate the route with a spirit level!
By way of motivation, I weighed myself today to judge my progress. 93Kg.
Next on the list is to find a good iPhone app to properly log my cycles.
Then to keep this blog updated.
Stay classy San Diego!
Collected my new bike today from the shop. It's part of the government approved Bike to Work scheme which lets you buy a bike and associated equipment out of your pre-tax salary up to a value of €1000, saving up to 50+%, depending on your tax bracket. More info: http://www.bikescheme.ie/ Not having had any recent experience of bike buying, I was a little surprised when, rather than asking how much I wanted to spend, or how many bikes I wanted for my €1000, the more usual question was, "would you rather keep it at/under the thousand for the bike and gear?" I could tell I was already getting out of my depth!
A little history: My last experience of regular cycling was in and out of work and Bolton St. while I was serving my apprenticeship as a fitter. I can't tell you a thing about the bike. Who made it, where it came from or where it went to but it was silver and at the time it was modern enough because it had front and rear derailleurs, which were operated by levers ergonomically placed between your knees. 10 gears in total. Who could ever need more? First gear felt like the chain had come off and tenth felt like it had seized. The eight in between were useful enough and got me to college and work, quicker and cheaper than the bus ever could.
Back to the present. Thank you to Stagg Cycles in Lucan and Andy in particular for holding my hand through the whole selection process, not making me feel like an idiot for not knowing which crankset I wanted or which accessories were needed. I was a blank canvas and it's a credit to them that I didn't leave with a bike and a separate carload of accoutrements and an empty chequebook!
What I did leave with was a bike, a Trek 1.2. A vision in white and blue, it looks the part until I get on it. There is a big problem with the engine but more on that later. I also got a little bag that hangs under the saddle, containing a spare tube, puncture repair kit, tyre levers and tool kit. I got two locks. A serious U lock that at some point is going to mean the death of whatever I lock the bike to, and a handier cable lock for out and about style popping in to the shops for an energy bar and an electrolyte drink. As if!
The shorts, in conjunction with the saddle, deserve a paragraph all to themselves. First the saddle. I've grown accustomed, or rather my bottom has, to the comfort of car seats over the years. My cars have not always (ever?) been the freshest, nor the seats as supportive and cosseting as when they left the factory but, truth be told my arse has got used to expanding horizontally when I sit on it. So the shorts were an odd experience, and should have warned me about what was coming. Hurdle one: Lycra. Mr.Motivator and Bizzy Lizzy wore Lycra while doing morning exercises on breakfast TV when I was growing up. Even then you wouldn't dream of dressing like them in case you had the only two way TV to slip past quality control, and they could see you. So the Lycra was a slightly odd feeling. Not nearly as odd as the padding though! I'll be honest, if I was padding a pair of lycra bike shorts I may have a somewhat different agenda. But the guys that made these shorts had my comfort in mind. To that end, they contained a nappy with no dry nite absorbency or dry weave top layer. This nappy had one function, to stop the instrument of torture that is the saddle of the bike from chiseling it's way into my digestive tract. You know when you're stopped at traffic lights and you're watching the JCB across the road with the rockbreaker chisel breaking up the path/road. You can hear it hammering but it doesn't look like it's moving, but as you watch it's disappearing deeper into the ground? Yeah, that!
So, Lycra discomfort syndrome, coupled with the closest thing to a nappy I want to feel on my undercarriage until my kids are liquidising my food. AND IT DOESN'T WORK!! I can't imagine that the cycle would have been any less comfortable if the shop had omitted to fit the saddle.
Once the rain looked like it may be taking a breather, and the neighbours were notably asent from their front gardens, I decide it was time for the maiden voyage. My Lycra, eh, aversion, coupled with my common decency meant that a pair of cargo shorts were fitted over my skintight nappy shorts. Jacket and helmet donned and I was off. First thoughts: I'm going to die, if not today then soon. It seems to take about 10 minutes to get the second foot located in the toe clip of the pedal. Ample time for several SUVs, Jeeps and juggernauts to render me an interesting design near the gutter.
Wahey! Two feet engaged and we're off, heading toward the Newcastle road with the plan to go as far as the top of the Nangor road and down to the Outer ring and back towards home. We'll see. Not much in the way of suspension here, tyres are rock hard and my nappy doesn't seem to be repelling the saddle as well as I might have liked. Quarter of a mile down and I feel violated already.
Then came Adamstown.
You tend not to hear Dublin and San Francisco spoken about in the same terms when hilly cities are being discussed. Usually for good reason. SF is all about the hills, whereas in Dublin, if there's a hill we'll tell you about it by naming it such. Arbor Hill. Captain's Hill. Constitution Hill. And so on...
So it was with some surprise that I encountered Adamstown Hill for the first time. I've driven over it hundreds of times but it was always called the Newcastle road and never seemed too much of an incline. Today the word hill seemed too polite. It was my Hamburger Hill! (Yes, ironically I was regretting the double sausage and egg mc.muffin I'd had for breakfast today). Near the bottom of the hill I passed a kid on a BMX huffing and puffing a bit (him not me). I dropped a few gears and continued my ascent like a boss. I was ok at trigonometry in school but I struggled today to remember the bit where metres at a slight angle are exponentially longer than flat metres. Every pump of my legs produced a burning sensation that was only nudged into second place in my priorities by the thoughts of this little shitbag passing me on the way up the hill!
At the top of that hill I gave serious thought to moving to Holland. Then I remembered they have trains there too.
I reckon I managed about two more miles before I was back home wondering what have I done. I had a time of 20-30 mins in mind for my commute to work, but after today I'm going to have to re-evaluate the route with a spirit level!
By way of motivation, I weighed myself today to judge my progress. 93Kg.
Next on the list is to find a good iPhone app to properly log my cycles.
Then to keep this blog updated.
Stay classy San Diego!
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