Tag Archives: chamois

He Blinded me with Science

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I no longer look at the weather before I head out. I know it’s cold – that’s a given – I won’t be too hot wearing my stretchy pants. Don’t need to carry my shorts for the warm ride home because there isn’t going to be one. It’s going to be windy, likely a crosswind in the morning with a head/crosswind on the ride home. The wind will be okay in the morning and anywhere from annoying to hurricane level in the evening when all I want to do is get home and relax. I know all of this in the back of my mind, yet when confronted with it as I stare into my iOraclephone first thing in the morning, it can be enough to send me out on four wheels. If I’m going to continue to ride this winter, it’s best I don’t know just how bad it’s going to be. Which reminds me, I’m might need snow tires soon.

When I started writing, it was ostensibly because I wanted to pass on my newbie experiences to the next budding Fredcyclist. The idea being I could answer some of those new-rider questions not with any authority, just the results of my own trial and error methods. It’s veered away from that and into a blather of this is what happened on my little commute today and that’s boring. Part of that detour off course is a result of this: I’m at a post-newb plateau.  I’ve learned the easiest stuff…maybe?

I’m not smart or learned by any means. My authority on matters cycling comprises the following nuggets: don’t pedal while leaning hard unless you enjoy pavement-surfing with your flesh; make sure you have air in your tires; ride as often as possible. On the other hand, here’s what I’ve learned:

• Yes, you do want stretchy pants with a chamois if you ride any distance unless you like friction burns on your most sensitive areas.
• “Slicks” or street tires on your mountain bike are definitely smoother and quieter but they were not the limiting factor in my quest for speed. The factor turned out to be me.
• Lube your chain or the squeaking and squawking will make you even more insane.
• Tires don’t hold air indefinitely – my 80psi slicks drop to 40 over a couple of weeks but make for a handy lie excuse reason you can tell yourself when you get Chicked.
• There may not be any car traffic on the bike paths, but a rear light will keep the rest of us from running you over in the dark because we are riding with
• The 3-LED headlight from MEC – makes an excellent targeting device for on-coming cars and may keep other riders from clipping you in the dark. Also serves as an excellent defense against establishing effective night-vision while simultaneously completely failing to illuminate anything far enough away to still avoid. Note to the city of Calgary – if you really loved cyclists, you’d fluoresce the yellow stripe in the middle of the path.
• If you insist on using a 1 million candle power strobe-light on your helmet while riding on the darkened bicycle path, I reserve the right to push you into the canal while claiming disorientation and blindness thanks to your head-mounted smugness device. Save it for the road where it’ll flash in everyone’s mirror after they’ve passed you and are no longer in a position to nudge you with a bumper.
• The colder it gets, the slower I go. I blame the increased air density and layers of clothing. It has nothing to do with laziness.

It was most definitely this increase in clothing layers and air density that turned me from rabbit to rabbit-chaser this morning. As is typical of my rides these days most of the path traffic is on-coming, which is good because my MEC night-vision-disruption light which as the name implies handily keeps my eyes from adjusting on the darkest sections of the path, combined with riding sans prescription glasses means I’m essentially navigating to work by muscle memory and feel. When I was kid with a big-block drum-brake hotrod, I learned all about over-driving your brakes – travelling faster than your brakes could stop you. I’m now over-driving my eyesight as, even at my reduced winter speed, there is little chance I will be able to avoid an unexpected obstacle.

Anyway – back to the engrossing tales of What I did on my commute this morning. I was passed, unexpectedly and totally off-guard by a high-cadence-pedaling rider whom I’ve seen once or twice before. My first instinct was to ignore the obvious Cat 6 race we were now in and continue as I was but as Dwernie noted last week it is not possible to simply ignore this challenge. I gave chase and didn’t lose any further ground until we got to the pedestrian bridge. I managed to maintain some semblance of speed but failed to stand and hammer when he did (note to self – stand and hammer is appropriate when in Cat 6 mode). By the time I’d reached the end of the bridge, he’d almost disappeared and our diverging routes put an end to the match. I was however given a small reward as I wound under 17th Ave and tried to run over a flagging rider making the climb up to 26th. I allowed myself a small degree of pride as I pedaled past him and he got off to start pushing. “At least I’m not pushing” I thought as I wobbled up the slope.

In recognition of the Cyclist’s Imperative to Chase Rabbits, I wish to congratulate Dwernie on his first blood. A successful pass and defense of position – job well done!  Way to represent Canadian Cat 6 riders abroad.

Dwernie

I Do and I Am…Maybe

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Lacking any modesty, I use any opportunity to pronounce my new-found religion.  Meet for lunch?  Only if it’s nearby – I cycled to work today.  Give you a lift?  Sorry – rode my bike this morning.  Lost weight?  Thanks, yeah, 30 pounds now, riding my bike all the time.  This is typically greeted with a positive response – Really?  That’s cool. – followed almost immediately by one of the following.

You don’t wear spandex do you
This seems to be the primary concern of my friends.  It’s almost as if they’re afraid of catching some heretofore unproven-but-suspected sickness that might render them powerless against showing up at the office Christmas party or the Friday-night poker game in head-to-toe spandex.   Ken, completely bonkers downhill racer, a man I’ve known since before either of us could shave and never noted as a conformist rolled his eyes “oh gawd, you’re not wearing those black spandex shorts are you?”, the disgust dripping from his words.

In truth, I don’t but that’s not because I’m unwilling…now.  When I was 40 pounds overweight (as opposed to the optimistic 10 I am now), you wouldn’t have been able to bribe me into them in public at any price.  I rode in my cargo shorts with the stealth chamois shorts hidden underneath.  I thought it was perfect but then single-digit temperatures arrived.

It didn’t take too many mornings in the almost-freezing air to figure out I needed something to cover my knees if nothing else.  Enter my first stretchy-pants – the MEC winter cycling tights.  When asked recently if I wear those shorts I replied “no – I have stretchy pants, like tights” just to watch the reaction.  As predicted, my friend reacted with horror, disapproval and disappointment.  You’d have thought I’d just told him I’d been having an affair with the neighbour’s poodle.

It’s not like I’m asking them to join me in my new-found clothing choices.  I’m comfortable in my choice of clothing – I don’t need someone else to validate it for me.  Yeesh – it’s not even like we’re riding together and they can’t handle being seen with a lycra-clad rider in the group.  Doesn’t matter though – switching back and forth between the cargo shorts and the stretchy-pants leaves no doubt – stretchy-pants rule and stretchy shorts are a foregone conclusion when the temperatures relent.

You’re not going to be one of those guys
Jason and I went for lunch recently and the topic of my riding came up…because I brought it up.  Jason, who doesn’t ride and hasn’t expressed an interest to (yet) has no problems with my stretchy-pants though he expressed some degree of relief that I wasn’t wearing them in the restaurant.  Jason was supportive and complimentary, arguably the most supportive of my small cadre of friends.  He came from a different angle.  “Are you going to ride this winter” he asked, to which  I replied with an enthusiastic maybe.  “I’d like to” I told him “but we’ll see how much I want to when there’s snow on the ground and no room in the lane”.

“Noooooooooooooooooooo” was the immediate response, his head shaking .  “Don’t be that guy!  Put the bike away and just drive a car like a normal human”.   Now, I could see if I was his courier or pizza delivery service how my desire to pedal through the winter might cause him some concern.  Luckily for both of us, I am neither of those.  So, what’s the issue?  We don’t work or live in the same quadrant of the city and virtually none of our respective commutes or general travel overlap…so what if I ride?  The reaction is almost reason enough and Jason is not alone in his disapproval of my plan.  Well, not really a plan so much as an idea.

 

Now these are all friends that have eaten my food, who have fed me and my family.  They’ve taken their weekends and evenings to move me – in the case of Ken, 3 times in a single 12 month period.  These guys aren’t peripheral or fair-weather friends – they’re the real deal and I’m lucky to have them.  So what is it about cycling that makes even your closest friends hang their heads, cluck their tongues and nod disapprovingly?  If I’d bought a motorcycle and we were talking about leather chaps or riding in the rain, there wouldn’t be any such reaction – unless I demonstrated my predilection for wearing the chaps without anything underneath them.  What is it about bicycles that puts everything on its head?

An Indulgence in Self-Pity

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During this week of miserably cold mornings and progressively warmer afternoons, I had a chance to ride in a multitude of differing weather conditions from genuinely freezing to unseasonably hot.  Such is the weather in Calgary that this can occur within the same day.  As such, I’ve had opportunity to compare and contrast my different riding gear outfits.  I say outfits like I have a plethora of selection and choice when only recently I pointed out that I’ve acquired the bare minimum to go cycling every day.

I now have 2 sport shirts ostensibly made with some super technology that allow me to sweat comfortably, never be damp and never smell.  I have no problem sweating in these shirts though I’ve never had a problem sweating in any other shirt so I’m not sure what the benefit was supposed to be.  The instant I stop moving, two things happen: the evaporative action of the breeze is gone so instead of being mildly sweaty, I look like I’ve just walked out of the shower; this is quickly followed by a general cooling from no longer trying to propel my fat self through the air, which is greatly aided by the yards of now-wet fabric, wicking away all the heat in my body.  Which is a long way of saying they lied – my shirt is damp.  My co-workers have assured me they lied about not smelling as well.  Still, I have 2 shirts which is more than I had 6 months ago.

For Christmas last year, my mother-in-law gave me a fantastic MEC long-sleeve zippered T, designed to be a base layer.  Unfortunately the slim fit design rendered it virtually impossible for any use in public where I might retain some sense of dignity.  It’s like she knew what was coming though as today it fits perfectly, even a little loose.  I’ve worn it as a base layer and also as a mid layer over the not-very-smart fabric t-shirt and my purple MEC shell.  It is fantastic.

I’ve spent the entire summer riding in my Levi cargo shorts, at first in normal underwear (and once commando which I strongly, strongly advise against) before graduating to cycling-specific, chamois-equipped underwear.  Also from MEC.  These lend themselves to riding in almost any sort of below-the-waist garment though I’ve not yet tried them with a kilt.  Perhaps next year.

Best Wife rewarded my moaning about frozen knees with a pair of stretchy pants, properly called cycling tights but I just can’t bring myself to say to anyone ”no, it’s not cold when I wear my tights” so stretchy pants they are.  They are fuzzy-lined (technical term), wind-proof from the front, breathable in the back and slippery.   These are also from MEC.  As is my bike (though I bought it at a pawn shop).  I’m starting to feel like a MEC shill.

In the course of the past week, I’ve used all of the above in addition to my Running Room (hey – they’re not MEC!) 2-layer winter running socks and generic pseudo-leather winter gloves.  Friday was the culmination of all of this – a cool morning departure with all 3 top layers, the chamois-shorts and stretchy pants and leather gloves and the omnipresent headwind.  In all fairness, I’m not certain there’s been a headwind every ride or even every morning however the density of the cold air makes it feel that way (rough calculation of the difference for power at the same speed between the hot and cold days is 6-7%, equivalent to a 2% grade).  Friday’s forecast called for +26°C and I couldn’t help checking the 3 flags at the end of the hall at every opportunity.  The limp and lifeless flags promised a windless afternoon.  I was looking forward to a smoking ride home.

I’d brought my cargos to replace the tights as Thursday’s adventure showed even 18°C to be too hot for them – 26°C would surely fry me.  Despite an overwhelming desire to bail out early on such a nice Friday afternoon I was still at the office after 5 when I heard the outside buzzer ring.  I ignored it at first but after several minutes finally relented thinking perhaps one of the guys had locked himself out.  Such was not the case and I immediately regretted opening the door.  The courier was apologetic about being late but was finally here to pick up a large shipment – long after our shipping department and staff had called it a day.  We messed around to sort things out and finally got the truck loaded and on it’s way.  I grabbed my gear to get changed for the ride home when what to my wandering eye did appear?    Angry, angry, billowing flags.  I’d been rewarded with a headwind for my troubles.

I slipped into my not-very-smart fabric shirt and chamois shorts and pulled the cargos over top, pushing the rest of the riding gear, lunch kit and dirty laundry into a now very-stuffed pack.  I was no longer excited about the ride home and after wheeling around the corner and getting the headwind full-on, I momentarily debated the call of shame, such was the level of my disappointment.  My energy level was coincident with my disappointment.

I slogged on thinking about how miserable it all was, how I’d been cheated out of a brilliant ride home and how I was sick to death of fighting the wind every ride.  Reality eventually prevailed and I thought about how lucky I was to be able to ride to work every day, to be able to ride at all, to have a great wife who supports my weekend disappearances with the bike, and kids who have expressed an desire to join me.  Really, I have nothing to complain about.

Once I’d sorted myself out, I had time to take in the ride and the very first thing I noticed?  My cargo shorts.  While they have indeed been a decent entry point for cycling, I believe I will, as I suggested Thursday, join the ranks of the lycra-shorted cyclists come summer.    The riding experience of the chamois shorts & stretchy pants combo is splediferous, in such subtle-yet-significant ways.  The back-to-back comparison Friday – as I’d not ridden with both stretchy pants and cargos the same day – showed there just might be something to all that cycling lycra besides sheep-like behaviour afterall.

I spent the remainder of the ride finding solace in the suffering but my knees are starting to disagree with me.  They’ve been aching more than normal lately and I’m not sure if it’s age, recent temperatures, bike setup or a combination of the above.  I do know it concerns me.