Saltwater and Rust

Both this summer and in previous years we've brought our bikes to the coast, we've noticed rust forming alarmingly quickly - even with the bicycles kept indoors. The chain is usually the first to rust, with the various bolts that hold components together shortly following suit. Even hardy powdercoated frames are not immune to this: We noticed rust spots on the Co-Habitant's pale blue Surly at the end of our first week here. I am curious how those who live next to salt water year-round take care of their bicycles. If the rate of rust formation we are seeing is any indication, it seems that bikes kept near salt water are liable to become rust buckets in no time.

On the other hand, I recall that my parents - who live around the corner from a marina - have always kept bikes in the garage, which was left open more often than not. These included my old mountain bike - which was stored in this manner for 15 years before I retrieved it, and the vintage Raleigh we later restored - which must have been kept there for over 20 years. Neither of these bikes show any more rust than is typical for their age. Could it be that bicycles were somehow rust-proofed in the past, and that this is no longer done? Or does rust formation slow down after an initially vigorous attack? Insights from coastal dwellers appreciated!

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Within My Grasp, Yet Out of Reach: the Evasive Century Ride

Once a cyclist begins to ride longer distances, it is inevitable that they will hear the siren call of the Century - the 100 mile ride. While 100 miles is as arbitrary a number as any, it has an undeniable cachet to it. It is a three digit number, a round number, and impressive number. Put simply, 100 miles is unambiguously "a lot." It is often considered a marker of seriousness when it comes to long-distance cycling.

Although I never set it as a goal for myself to complete a century, to tell the truth I thought that surely I would have done it by now. Distances of 30, 40 and 50 miles were so easy for me almost from the start, that I assumed 100 miles would inevitably follow. However, it is now my 3rd summer of cycling and somehow I still have not managed it - 65 miles being the longest distance I've covered so far in one go. One obstacle has been lack of time. As someone who gets annoyed when others tell me they don't have time to cycle, I can't believe I am using the same excuse. So maybe I should rephrase: My time management skills have been inadequate. I try to set a day aside for a century ride, but something inevitably comes up to make it impossible. Shorter rides are easier in that sense, because they do not require taking an entire day off. The other obstacle has been finding places to ride to. While the countryside outside Boston offers excellent cycling, I am having a hard time mapping out routes that exceed 65 miles and are still within my comfort zone when it comes to car traffic and elevation changes. And doing repeat loops just to cycle 100 miles is not appealing.

While on Cape Cod last summer, I thought that surely a century would finally be completed. Our plan was to gradually work up to it, but in the end we did it too gradually: Just after the 65 mile ride I got sick, and by the time I felt better it was time to go home. This summer, the inability to reach the 100 mile mark is becoming almost comical. Now that we are on Cape Ann - with both the time to do it and the perfect location - weather and other factors have intervened to foil our plans repeatedly. 50 miles along the coast has been the longest we have managed so far, and with half our stay over and more storms predicted for this week, it's possible that a century is simply not in the cards during this trip either.

It is becoming clear that, while I am accustomed to fitting rides into my life "organically," the century may necessitate a different approach. If I am serious, then I will need more careful planning, stronger determination, and a willingness to do it in poor weather conditions or along a route that I am not entirely comfortable with. But frankly, that just doesn't seem like much fun. When I finally find the time to do a 100 mile ride on my terms, it will be fantastic. But to approach it as a grimly goal-oriented undertaking for the sake of saying that I've done a century would defeat the purpose. As far as endurance goes, I am fairly confident that I can handle the mileage, so it's just a matter of an opportune situation presenting itself. I am sure someday it will.

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A Dirt Road Excursion

I've decided that I will definitely be going to the Deerfield Dirt-Road Randonnée (D2R2) this year - a scenic ride along New England dirt roads that will take place in August. The 40 mile route is said to be tame in comparison to the longer options, but I still need to get used to riding on dirt roads if I am going to do it. So we began by exploring some of the ones close to our usual cycling routes: the Narrow Gauge Rail Trail that runs from Bedford to Billerica, and the Battle Road Trail that runs from Lexington to Concord. Both of these are pretty short (3 miles and 5 miles), but they are the only dirt roads I know of around here that aren't too technical. We incorporated them into our regular 40 mile ride, setting off on bikes with wide tires. 

650B x 42mm Grand Bois Hetre tires on my Rivendell, and 700C x 50mm Schwalbe Fat Frank tires on his Surly. I know that some prefer to ride mountain bikes and be more upright on trails, but I really like the feeling of a roadish bike with dropbars on this terrain: My weight feels well-distributed and the speed and maneuverability seem to work in my favour when going either over or around tricky patches. 

I am fairly certain that I would not enjoy a trail so technical as to require a dedicated mountain bike. Even this offshoot of the main path was too much.

When there are rocks and roots jutting out every which way, navigating around them is stressful - while going over them feels like riding a pogo stick. I don't think this kind of surface is for me.

But the surface of the main paths looked like this most of the time: Mainly packed dirt with some gravel, and occasional stretches of sand. These things I am more or less okay with.

We maintained a speed of about 12-13 mph most of the time on this surface, and I was fairly comfortable. When gravel is loose, it can feel like it's slipping out from under your tires - but the main thing is to get used to that sensation and just keep going. Easier said than done of course - especially when cycling down a winding incline. Even a gentle incline and a subtle turn can incite panic if it feels like your tire is slipping sideways. But braking is a bad idea and trying to put a foot down is a bad idea - pretty much just trusting in the bike's momentum and continuing seems to be the way to deal with this.

I did have a minor incident when we went over a stretch of deep sand. I was fine through most of it, but toward the end the mere awareness that I was cycling through sand just got too much and I lost my nerve. The bike started to topple and I sort of half-fell forward in slow motion (crotch onto toptube - ouch!), while desperately clutching the handlebars so that the bike itself wouldn't fall. Given that this hardly even qualifies as a fall, I am glad it happened: Now I understand how the bike behaves if I slow down in sand.

After this dirt road excursion, I am still not not sure how I feel about cycling off-road. Riding in the woods was nice and I do appreciate the fresh air and the quiet of being away from busy roads. But the slower speed felt limiting and I was very glad to be back on pavement and cycling at 20mph once we were done with the trails. The technical aspect - developing skills to transcend difficult terrain on a bicycle - is just not exciting to me at all in of itself. The aspect I do like is the feeling of exploring, and I hope to find some other trails that are longer and lead somewhere more interesting next time. What appeals to me about the D2R2 is the vastness and diversity of terrain it promises, with beautiful riverside views. It's a legendary ride, and I hope to be comfortable enough on dirt roads to complete it in August. Any advice for local routes to practice on most welcome!

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Bikes, Trains, Sailboats

After months of deliberation and procrastination, we've finally done it: Traveled by train with our bikes. For a while now we have wanted to cycle around Cape Ann, which is a beautiful area about 40 miles North of Boston - accessible by the MBTA Commuter Rail via the Rockport line. A number of people we know have taken this trip with their bikes, so it seemed doable. Also, I was delighted to spot the following notice on the MBTA website: "Commuter Rail re-introduces The Bike Coach on the Rockport line for the summer season." Bike coach! No other information was provided, so I did some research. Turns out they have commuter trains with special cars dedicated entirely to bikes - with bike racks as far as the eye can see, like this. But I could not find any information regarding its schedule, and it seemed that only some weekend trains were Bike Coach trains. A call to the MBTA was fruitless, so we decided to just show up and hope for the best.

The commuter train to Cape Ann leaves from North Station, a 3.25 mile bike ride from our house through some of the busiest parts of Boston. I don't like cycling through the city on a roadbike, but on a Saturday morning the traffic wasn't bad. We arrived early, which was good as there was a line at the ticket machines. There were plenty of other people with bicycles. When our train arrived, the conductor came out and announced that all those with bikes must proceed to the first car of the train. Only those with bikes were allowed in that car. Only those without bikes were allowed in the other cars. The segregation gave us hope that this was the fabled Bike Coach, and we happily headed for the front car along with the procession of other cyclists. 

What happened next was rather stunning. The car we were ushered into had no accommodations for bikes what so ever - just a small corner of space at one end where a couple of handicapped seats had been removed. This was definitely not the Bike Coach. Nonetheless, everybody proceeded to drag their bikes on the train - more and more of them, until not only this corner, but the entire aisle was filled with bikes. When even that space ran out, new passengers began to pile their bikes on top of other bikes. Loud clunking noises filled the train as tubes smashed against derailleurs. 

Not wanting our bikes damaged in the velo moshpit that ensued, we found a seat near the exit and sort of held our bikes on our laps the entire time. As you might imagine, it was uncomfortable to sit that way for an hour. But the alternative was to accept that a dozen 50lb mountain bikes would be thrown on top of our bicycles - which was not a viable option. So we tried to have a sense of humour about the whole thing and looked forward to reaching our destination while seriously discussing the possibility of Bromptons in the future. 

But no sooner had we reached Rockport than the train trauma was forgotten, as we were greeted with perfect weather and glorious coastal views. 

The Cape Ann peninsula consists of Rockport, Annisquam Village and Gloucester - each of them with beautiful scenery. Severed from the mainland by the winding Annisquam River, water views are everywhere. This was our first time in the area and we decided to do an exploratory loop along the coastline instead of a long-distance trip. The Cape Ann loop is about 20 miles, with mild but constant rolling hills, alternating between open water views and tree lined country roads. Especially considering the 4th of July weekend, the area was not crowded. Drivers were courteous everywhere except for the traffic circle in Gloucester, but even that was not too bad. Roads were good on the eastern side of the cape, but terrible on the western side. Navigation was intuitive - just follow the coastline! 

My Rivendell is in the midst of a small (but exciting) make-over, so I took the loaner Seven on this trip. Overall it was pretty good, though a burlier bike might have been a better choice on the pothole-ridden roads. We also ventured off road a bit, which was "interesting" on 23mm racing tires!

Cape Ann is even quieter and less commercially developed than we expected, a pleasant surprise. Lots of parks, meadows and nature reserves. Not too many parking lots. And "motel sprawl" is virtually non-existant - at least compared to places like Cape Cod, the NH Seacoast, and much of coastal Maine. 

Also, there are apparently sailboat races happening in Rockport - wonderful!

All in all, we loved the area and are now considering staying there for longer, instead of venturing further from home on vacation later this summer. After all - just load up our bikes on the commuter rail, it's so easy! Of course we'd forgotten about our train experience earlier that day. Or at least, we thought, there would surely not be as many bikes on the return trip. Or maybe we would finally get the mythical Bike Coach?

Nope, no such luck. On the return trip, passengers were once again segregated into those with bikes and those without, and this time the "bike car" had a car rack attached in the handicapped seating area. It accommodated 4-5 bikes, tightly squeezed, and was filled as soon as the train began to board.

Minutes later, that pathetic little bike rack was surrounded by dozens of other bikes, stacked and thrown against one another haphazardly. 

Exits were blocked, aisles were blocked - no one seemed to care. When passengers with bikes needed to get on or off, they would simply throw the other bikes out of the way and the whole thing was like one huge pile of scrap metal. So we held our bikes on our laps again - hugging them ever closer to our bodies as other passengers kept trying to pile their bikes on top of ours (yes, even while we were holding our bikes on our laps!). It was a madhouse and probably violated all sorts of safety regulations. The MBTA clearly needs to have these alleged Bike Coach cars run with more frequency and on a predictable schedule. As we now understand it, the schedule is random and there is no way to time your trip to ensure that you will get a Bike Coach. Sounds improbable, but that's how it is!

Late in the evening, we rode home from the station along mostly empty city streets, recuperating from the train but also satiated from a day of exploring such a beautiful new place by bicycle. We only cycled 30 miles over all, and the point of the trip was mainly to hang out and get to know the area. Next time we will plan for a longer route. The North Shore is a great starting point for long distance touring: While there is no pleasant bicycle route North out of Boston, from Cape Ann we could just continue to cycle along the coast to Maine. Definitely something to consider, despite the less than ideal commuter rail experience.

What is it like to travel on a train with a bike where you live, and do you do it often?

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The Surly Cross Check: a Colourful Build

Two months ago, the Co-Habitant got a Surly Cross Check frame that he wanted to build up as a fun on/off road bike around a touring wheelset with fat tires that we already had in our possession. He is getting a nice roadbike later this summer (waiting for the frame to be finished!), and the Surly was meant to be "the other bike" - a playful, go-anywhere bike built around an inexpensive frame, mostly using components we already had. He swiftly put the bike together and has now cycled about 500 miles on it. The Cross Check is technically a cyclocross frame, but it is versatile and can also be used for touring and commuting. Given its unusual build, we've had many questions about this bike and so I offer a review on the Co-Habitant's behalf.

The most noteworthy aspect of the build, is that we were able to fit the frame with Schwalbe Fat Frank tires and metal fenders. This looks great, and the tires feel awesome, but to tell the truth the whole thing was a pain. The Cross Check is described as being able to fit tires up to 45mm with fenders, but the Fat Franks are 50mm. It was a tight fit that required some DIY. Initially we wanted to use Berthoud steel fenders, which are available in 700Cx60mm, but the Co-Habitant was not impressed with their quality upon seeing them in person. He also dislikes plastic fenders and did not want to use SKS. In the end he decided to get the Velo Orange Zeppelin 700c x 52mm fenders (which are rated for 42mm tire), and "massage" them to fit.

Out of the box, the fenders were too tight: The edges touched the sides of the tires and there was not enough space under the brake bridge and behind the seat tube to mount them high. So, the fenders had to be opened up. But when you open up a fender that's 52mm, it no longer follows the line of a 700C tire, instead making the opening much smaller. So while opening the fender, it had to also be stretched out -  taking care not to crimp the edges. To do this, he used a flat low table holding the fender upside down against its surface and pressing down gently, rolling it end to end - opening and pressing down. Pressing down would close the fender and opening it would alter the curvature, so the back and forth balanced out the opposing forces.

For the front fender there was sufficient clearance underneath the fork crown, but in the rear there was less clearance - the brake bridge is quite low and the chainstays are short. He had to dent the top of the rear fender (which isn't visible) in order to get it closer to the brake bridge, then fabricate a custom circular-L-bracket to hold the fender in place, screwed into the eyelet of the brake bridge. To dent the fender, he placed it on some clothing on the top edge of the back of a chair, then hit it with a rubberized end of a pedal wrench, creating a grooved dimple. He also had to dent the ends so that they wouldn't pinch near the bottom bracket. It was a bit of an ordeal, and if you are going to attempt this beware that it is easy to ruin the fender - it may not be a risk worth taking.

Happily, the "massaging" was a success and the Cross-Check looks great with the fat cream tires and the VO Zeppelin fenders. The ride is fast and cushy, and the Co-Habitant is discovering just how addictive wide tires are. On the downside, the clearances between the tires and fenders are so tight, that the set-up is not really practical for serious off-road cycling: stuff can get caught in there and cause problems. But for fire trails and gravel paths it is fine, and if he decides to do anything more serious (like the D2R2!), he will remove the fenders.

The rest of the build for this bicycle has mostly already been described here, but a few changes have been made since then. The original shortish stem has been replaced with a 9cm stem, flipped upside down. The original yellow cloth tape got filthy and tattered fairly quickly, so we replaced it with Fizik tape. Initially, the cloth tape was supposed to be shellacked to a warm caramel - but the bright yellow looked so "right" on this bike, that it began to seem like an inherent part of its personality and he decided to keep it that way. He also added a frame pump, lamenting the lack of pump peg and using a strap to hold it in place.

After two years in a lukewarm relationship with his Brooks Flyer saddle, he decided to sell it and replace it with a Berthoud touring saddle - the male version of the one I now have on my Rivendell. So far he loves it.

He fitted the bike with the Carradice bag that used to be on his old bike.

It now has a patch on it, to cover the tear that happened as a result of the bag rubbing over the brake cable on his old bike.

He affixed a CatEye headlight to a braze-on on the front fork, and a Spanninga Pixeo tail light to the rear fender.

He tried to liberate himself from clipless pedals and rode the bike with touring pedals for a few weeks, but ultimately could not take it anymore and put his old clipless pedals back on. Fair enough, but this does limit the versatility he originally had in mind for the bike.

After riding the Surly Cross Check for two months, his main feedback is that the bike is faster than he expected - even with the wide tires and a bunch of weight in the saddlebag. While initially he intended to use the Cross Check in conjunction with his old Motobecane until he got his new roadbike, the Motobecane was retired as soon as he started riding the Surly - no need for it, since the Cross Check did everything it could do and more. He does not find the bike sluggish, and it seems that the tubing is just right for someone of his stature (6ft/ 200lb+). Overall, he is pretty happy. Though he likes lugs, he also likes a nicely done TIG-welded frame and the Surly suits him just fine.

My take on his Cross Check... I think it is a well-made, attractive frame for the price and I am glad that he finds it comfortable and fast. To be honest, I think that at least to some extent this build was not so much about practicality, as about doing a fun and challenging project using a bunch of components that we had acquired but had no use for. If the original purpose of the bike was off-road, then the tire+fender combo with such tight clearances does not really make sense. I have a feeling that he will end up using it mainly on the road, because I can't imagine him bothering to remove and reinstall the fenders every time he wants to take it on serious trails. And this means that when he gets his long-awaited road frame later this summer, the functionalities of the two bikes will overlap considerably. Not that there's anything wrong with that. But given how much he likes the Surly I am almost worried that he might be disappointed with the special bike he's waiting for. Well, hopefully not.

On a more general note, while the Cross Check is clearly versatile enough for commuting and touring, I wonder whether many cyclists actually use it for cyclocross racing. I have a hard time imagining that, given how relatively heavy it is - even the floor models with narrower tires and sportier components. But maybe I'm just biased from having handled too many lightweight bikes recently.

The Surly Cross Check is a fun bike with a cult following, and it is particularly impressive how customisable the frame is. With its happy colours, fat cream tires, elegant fenders and classic touring accessories, the Co-habitant's Cross Check is distinctly his own.

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I am Curious, Yellow

Obscure film references aside, the past week for me has been dominated by equal parts anticipation and anxiety. I've ridden my loaner roadbike for 120 miles in preparation for the next paceline ride... which, ironically, was cancelled for the second time in a row due to rain. The more time passes, the more my anticipation builds and the more exaggerated my anxieties become.

The Co-Habitant and I did two fast-paced, hilly rides over the weekend - he on his Surly Cross Check and I on the borrowed Seven. We went over the same hills where he has previously passed me nonchalantly regardless of which bikes we were both riding... only this time our positions were reversed dramatically. I shot past him while exerting little effort, continued to merrily cycle uphill, and then waited for him to catch up as I sipped water and sniffed flowers.

Of course we expected that a racy roadbike would be faster than a heavier and more relaxed cyclocross bike with wide tires and a saddlebag. But since he is a stronger cyclist than I am to begin with, I thought that the discrepancy would level the playing field between us. Neither of us thought that it would make me this much faster uphill.

The interesting thing is that on downhills and flats there was not much difference between us; it was uphill that the bike really began to matter. This parallels my experience of the paceline ride on my Rivendell, where it was specifically on the uphill portions that I felt a disadvantage to the others.

But while I am now confident in the bike's climbing ability, this is tempered by a fear not only of its speed on descents, but also of my relative unfamiliarity with its handling. After putting nearly 2,000 miles on my Rivendell I pretty much know how it behaves across a wide range of situations. The 120 miles on the Seven are just not sufficient for that kind of comfort to develop. I don't mind admitting that I'm plain scared when riding it at 25mph+ downhill - scared of the narrow tires, scared of the carbon fork, and scared of its precise but aggressive cornering. The fear saps away my confidence, making me squeeze the brakes and cycle more conservatively than I am capable of.

Being 100% comfortable with a bicycle is not something I can force; it takes time. My curiosity is a strong motivator to keep riding and practicing, specifically seeking out those situations that still make me nervous.

While the bike is in my possession I've fitted it with my own saddle, which has made it more comfortable to ride long distances. I've also installed my pedals (the narrow MKS Streams) and PowerGrips. This looks silly on a bike that is typically ridden clipless, but I don't care: I need to ride it in a way that makes me comfortable. I've also now raised the saddle another 5mm from how it's shown in this picture, which almost makes it look like the standover is not too high. Almost. The length of the toptube and the handlebar set-up work well for me (the Ride Studio Cafe matched the configuration to one of my own bikes) and it's only the seat tube height that's off. The result is that the bike fits me extremely well when I am riding it, but looks too big when I am not. Ideally, the frame would have the same virtual top tube length, with the actual top tube just a little bit sloped in order to reduce standover. Given the available demo models I prefer this set-up over a smaller frame, because I don't like toe overlap. All in all I feel good on this bike, which is what matters.

I really hope they don't cancel the paceline ride next week; the anticipation is getting ridiculous. In the meantime, all I can do is keep riding.

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First Group Ride!

Yesterday, I went on my first group ride. Yes, there were only three of us and we're all friends. But those who were reading this blog last summer understand what an accomplishment this is for me.

Ever since I began to ride a roadbike, I've been whining about wanting to learn how to ride in a group... yet refusing to go on group rides. Yes, it was paradoxical. But you see, I wanted to learn the skills of riding in a group, while at the same time being afraid of it - convinced that I would perish in a high speed crash, images of the most gruesome bicycle race pile-ups flashing through my mind. I toyed with the idea of joining the women's training rides offered by a local cycling team, but ultimately the entire summer passed and I did not do it - opting for solitary rides and occasional rides with the Co-Habitant instead. I had to be coaxed into joining yesterday's ride, and I did try to back out as usual... but in the end something just clicked in my head and I went. And I'm very glad. Yes, I know you told me so!

My cycling partners were the Co-Habitant on his nearly-finished Surly Cross-Check (notice the fenders!) and our neighbour Somervillain on his vintage 650B conversion.

I was on my Rivendell Sam Hillborne. How happy he was to be out amidst the cherry blossoms!

Though we were riding different bikes, the aesthetic was amusingly similar. We all had candy-coloured frames with fat tires, cantilever brakes, aluminum fenders, leather saddles, classic bar wrap, and even twined water bottles. All three of us were also wearing wool. We looked like a team of eccentric bicycle obsessionists. The plan was to go on a roughly 40 mile loop - starting on the Minuteman Trail, then going through the hilly parts of Lexington, and arriving in Concord, MA - where we would stop before returning along a similar route.

Any nervousness I had about the ride dissipated as soon as the three of us set off in city traffic on the way to the Minuteman Trail. I expected this to be stressful - keeping pace with the others while paying attention to cars and negotiating treacherous intersections - but instead it was easy. Easier than cycling in traffic alone and easier than cycling in traffic with just the Co-Habitant. I still need to think this through in order to understand why, but possibly because three cyclists really do constitute a group in the eyes of motorists and are thus given more space. Maybe. Whatever the reason, it was great.

For the first part of our ride, we went in an unchanging single file procession - with the Co-Habitant first, Somervillain second, and me last. We cycled fairly closely behind one another, which I did not find problematic. It took me some time to get used to the rhythm with which Somervillain started from a stop, and to time my own starts the same way so that I wouldn't run into him. But otherwise, it was all very intuitive. I did not have trouble pacing myself to maintain the same speed consistently. And I also liked it that they hand-signaled every move they would make on the road. When we cycle alone, the Co-Habitant and I don't do this - which sometimes results in miscommunication.

We went along the Minuteman Trail at 14-16mph, then headed for the hills in Lexington. We've had an especially long winter and rainy spring this year, and I had not done major hills like this since last Fall. I was physically unprepared for them. I also forgot how steep and long this one particular hill was. We began climbing it, and almost immediately I was spinning in a low gear and my speed dropped to 7mph. I just couldn't do any better. It was at this point that we dispersed, so that the stronger riders would not lose momentum. Somervillain took off uphill and the Co-Habitant followed him at a slower pace, but still faster than me. I eventually made it, but the climb was such a huge shock to my system that even the downhill decent that followed made me unable to catch up with them. As soon as the distance between us decreased, came another uphill and I would lose them again. While I found this frustrating, I also appreciated having a true sense of the differences in our abilities. And I certainly preferred them going ahead to slowing down for me - that would have made me feel excruciatingly self-conscious.  We cycled over a series of hills in a similar style - the distance between us decreasing on the descent, then increasing again on the ascent - until finally the elevation changes lessened and we were able to cycle in a single file again. I did not have trouble keeping up on flats and mild hills, so that was a relief. The day had been beautiful and sunny up until then, but now it started to rain, which was a relief as well. The raindrops cooled me down.

We stopped in the Concord town center to have lunch and coffee. The sun came out again by then, and the small town looked ridiculously picturesque - blue skies, green grass and cherry blossoms everywhere.

We filled up our water bottles.

And Somervillain showed us his clever iphone-charging system.

The socket is built into the light mount and derives its power from the dynamo hub. He made it himself. I don't own an iphone, but still want this on my bike!

At some point in the course of the ride, the Co-Habitant's brakes suddenly became stronger, solving his brake dilema. Looks like they just needed to wear in.

My writing skills are not strong enough to make the canti-comparison conversation that followed sound interesting, but I'll show you Somervillain's Mafac brakes.

And my Tektro brakes.  After a thorough examination of my bike, we may now have a diagnosis for my complaint about the drivetrain fussiness: bent derailleur hanger, possibly. So I will have to take care of that.

After the town center, we cycled a bit further and stopped by Walden Pond.

Even with lots of people there on a Sunday, it is still such a quiet, meditative place.

We chose a slightly less hilly route home, and the return part of our loop was more casual. We switched places in line frequently, and at times cycled in a cluster instead of a procession - all of which I was fine with. I got a sudden burst of energy on the way back and did not feel tired.

It is fair to conclude that my first group ride was a success. I enjoyed cycling in a procession at a controlled speed, and I did not have problems riding in close proximity to the others. I guess my sense of incompetence in this respect was exaggerated. The losing them on hills aspect I will have to work on, but I think it is to be expected given the differences in physical strength between us.

I looked up the schedule for the women's training rides this summer, and the first one of the season is this Tuesday - tomorrow! Before I lose my nerve, I think I need to just force myself to show up. Will make my best effort - now off to shop for a certain required accessory!

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