Drinking and Cycling

Yesterday I did a 40 mile ride in 97 degree heat and high humidity. As someone who is sensitive to hot weather, normally I would not go outdoors on such a day at all. But when the temperature is like this on a daily basis, the choice is either to stop riding or find a way to deal with it. One experienced cyclist I know suggested drinking large amounts of water starting early in the morning, and then a dose of coconut water right before the ride itself. I did just that, and it helped: I  was able to do the ride without feeling faint or headachy. Earlier in the week I tried to do the same ride and turned back 15 minutes later, nursing a migraine for the remainder of the day. I don't know how much the hydration regimen had to do with the improvement, but it made me curious about the relationship between drinking and cycling. 

Take, for example, water: I've always been one of those weird people who doesn't like the taste of water and does not usually feel thirsty, so drinking so much of it was an entirely new concept when I began cycling. At first I had to practically force myself to do it, but at some point it started to become more natural and I developed the thirst mechanism I hitherto lacked. Those who've known me for a while are surprised that I now actually crave water, even when off the bike. 

On the other hand, juice and energy drinks make me feel sick when I cycle. They are too sweet and I only feel more thirsty afterward. Things like Gatorade and weird chemical energy powders I just can't take at all - it goes straight to my head and makes me feel dizzy, as well as leaves a disgusting taste in my mouth. So in order to regain electrolytes, I've been eating bananas and putting a tiny bit of salt in my water. Coconut water was suggested as an alternative, and I was surprised to read about its electrolyte content: It is basically a natural sportsdrink. I still find it slightly too sweet and the aftertaste a little weird, but manageable - and it seems to work.

Then there is the question of coffee. I am addicted and drink more cups per day than I care to count. I like to drink coffee before a ride, because it makes me feel more energetic. However, some warn against doing this - claiming that it's bad for the heart to have coffee right before exercise. Are cyclists who caffeinate dooming themselves to early heart attacks? Seems unlikely to me, but I do wonder sometimes as I drink my nth cup.

And finally, alcohol. I am not a big drinker by any means, but I like an occasional white wine or martini. Sadly, I've discovered that I can't drink if I plan to go on strenuous rides, not even a little bit. Maybe I am worse at processing alcohol than most people, but if I have a martini in the evening and then try to go cycling the next morning, I can smell the gin coming out of my pores and just don't feel 100% on the bike. That's after just one drink. I cannot imagine how some cyclists manage to guzzle beer during races, or stop for lunch with wine in the middle of long ride; I can't do it.

What's your practice with regard to water, energy drinks, coffee and alcohol when cycling?

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Junk Miles: Not an Insult

Since having gotten into roadcycling, I find myself in the hilarious position where both "roadies" and "non-roadies" will ask me questions about the imagined other, as if I can provide inside information. Of course the dichotomy is mostly a false one, but that hardly matters. I get questions such as "So why do roadies ___ when they ___?" or "So when people ride bikes to work, how in the world do they ____?" Half the time I don't even know what the person means, but it's always entertaining. It also shows our readiness to think in terms of ingroup/outgroup - attributing exotic, irrational tendencies to the outgroup while perceiving the ingroup as entirely normal. 

Anyhow, the latest conversation I had in this context was about "junk miles." Before I even knew what that term meant, I'd noticed that transportation cyclists find it offensive - perceiving it as a derogatory expression used by roadcyclists to be dismissive of any other type of riding. In keeping with this, last week someone asked me: "So when you go to the grocery store, do you now think of it as junk miles?" - the idea being that the person assumed roadies do not consider that sort of thing to be "real" cycling, hence junk miles or wasted time on a bike. 

All right. So allow me to attempt to explain "junk miles" as I now understand it from a roadcycling perspective, because the term appears to be widely misunderstood. Transportation cycling is not junk miles. A fun ride with friends at a leisurely pace is not junk miles. Relaxed touring is not junk miles. Nothing you do outside the realm of cycling as a sport is junk miles, because the term simply does not apply to you.

But let's say you are a roadcyclist who is training for a race. This means that you want to improve your performance, to become faster. In order to train effectively for this purpose, it is generally suggested that you alternate training rides that are super-difficult with rides that are easy. The super-difficult rides will push you beyond your current abilities and the easy rides will allow you to recover. What you don't want to do too much of are rides that are in between. Those types of rides are called "junk miles," because they don't help you get faster, but they don't allow you to recover either. That's it; that is what the term means. It is used exclusively within the context of roadcycling, and with the assumption that the person is an athlete, intentionally engaging in goal-oriented training. The term does not refer to other forms of cycling. 

I am not sure how the misunderstanding originated that "junk miles" is an insult to transportation or leisurely cyclists, but it is exactly that: a misunderstanding. 

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Everyone Wants Stability

In discussions of a bicycle's ride quality, one thing that always comes up is stability. We want a bike that is stable and we complain when it is not. Of course the problem with "stability" is that the concept is largely dependent on our skill level and cycling background. Those who are unaccustomed to riding roadbikes will often find them unstable at first, while those who ride roadbikes exclusively will often find upright bikes unstable. This does not mean that either is actually unstable, but rather that the two cyclists are used to radically different means of weight distribution. Similarly, what's "unstable" to one cyclist can be "responsive" to another. It seems that perception of stability has at least as much to do with the person riding the bicycle as it does with the bicycle itself. How useful is it, then, to tell a salesperson or a framebuilder that we want a bicycle that is stable? And how useful is that term in reviews? Clearly we need further qualification.

When I talk to new cyclists who are uncomfortable operating their bikes, instability is often cited as the problem: It can make a bicycle difficult or scary to ride, making the cyclist feel not entirely in control. In the process of teasing out what exactly is meant by this elusive concept, I've identified a number of distinct points that I would like to share, and see what others think: 

Starting from a stop

Some bicycles are described as shaky when starting from a stop, as if the front wheel is wobbly and wants to turn just as the cyclist is trying to get the bike rolling forward. This is a complaint I hear a lot from women about vintage mixtes that came with dropbars, but have been converted to upright bikes and also, interestingly, about classic Dutch bikes. The feeling is sometimes referred to as "light steering" or a "light front end," and has to do with a complicated combination of the bicycle's geometry and the height of the handlebars. With some bikes, I have found that lowering the handlebars helps - in particular when it comes to the mixte conversions - but ultimately it is a matter of getting used to it. Some cyclists do get used to it, but others can't and feel inherently uncomfortable with the bike. 

Cycling at slow speeds

Similar to the above, only extended to cycling at slow speeds: The bike wants to weave (i.e. feels "squirrely" or "twitchy") when the cyclist attempts to ride slowly, making it difficult to control. Aggressive roadbikes are known for this quality, but cyclists report the feeling about some upright bikes as well (albeit often they are upright bikes that are roadbike conversions). One thing I have found useful when riding bicycles like this at slow speeds, is to pedal in slow motion while feathering the brake, instead of coasting. I would be interested to know whether this works for others. 

Cycling at fast speeds, downhill

When riding at fast speeds, and particularly downhill, some cyclists are alarmed to notice that the font end of their bicycle will begin to vibrate in the region of the stem and handlebars. Assuming that nothing is loose on the bike or mechanically wrong with it, this is known as "shimmy" and there are ongoing debates regarding what causes it, whether it's a problem, and whether it is even a real phenomenon. This is something that a cyclist either gets used to, learns to avoid by abstaining from high speeds on that particular bike, or deals with by getting a different bike. 

Turning

When cyclists describe a bicycle as unstable on turns, they can mean a number of things by this. One type of complaint is that the bike turns too aggressively or, "too much," overreacting to the turn. Another type of complaint is the opposite: that the bike keeps trying to straighten itself while the cyclist is still continuing the turn. Either of these qualities can make turning stressful, with the cyclist struggling to make the bicycle follow the course they would like it to follow. How to deal with this, other than developing handling skills in line with the bicycle's tendencies (or getting a different bike) I cannot say.

Rough surfaces

To some cyclists it is important how stable a bicycle feels when going over rough or uneven surfaces. While wide tires play a role, at least to some extent this seems to be also about the bicycle itself - with some bikes seemingly "unfellable" off road or over potholes, while others relatively easy to wipe out on, especially for novices. In the realm of upright city bikes,  there is an increasing number of manufacturers (Pilen, Retrovelo, Urbana) infusing classic transportation bicycles with mountain bike characteristics in a way that works well in this context. Converting an old hardtail mountain bike to an upright bike can work as well. Upright roadbike conversions on the other hand, tend to be problematic in this respect - particularly for beginners. 

Tire width

Whether on smooth or rough surfaces, I have noticed that tire width can have a lot to do with a novice cyclist's perception of a bicycle's stability: Narrow tires are simply more difficult to balance on across a wide range of circumstances. If the bicycle's clearances allow for wider tires, this is an easy way to improve the feeling of a bicycle's stability. 

Cycling with a load

Finally, whereas a bicycle might feel perfectly stable unloaded, some notice that introducing weight in the front basket or on the rear rack can disrupt that stability. Most of the time, this happens with a front rather than rear load: the bicycle begins to weave or wobble if the front is overloaded. There can be a myriad of causes for this, and subsequently a myriad of ways to deal with them. Generally speaking, carrying weight lower on the bike (i.e. not mounting a basket on the handlebars) is said to improve stability. But some bicycles are just not intended for a front load no matter what.

While it might be difficult to express what we mean by stability, breaking it down into specifics can be helpful - both in communicating with others and in gaining more insight into our own preferences. In attempting to understand the nuances of ride quality, it continues to amaze me how the same idea can be echoed by so many people, yet mean something slightly (or even not so slightly) different to each. Does a novice who finds their bicycle unstable need a different bike, or merely wider tires? Could be either.

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Pop-Up Tour de France! A Book About a Race That Put a Smile on My Face

When Paintbox Press asked me to review Pop-Up Tour de France: the World's Greatest Bike Race by Pamela Pease, I agreed out of sheer curiosity - expecting a children's picture-book. Having now read it cover-to-cover, I must say that this is the most comprehensive and captivating explanation of the race I have come across, as a novice follower of the sport. Oh yes, and the pop-up illustrations are adorable!

Written in a way that can be read by adults and precocious children alike, Pop-Up Tour de France begins with the history of racing and of the Tour itself, before plunging into a step-by-step explanation of how the race is organised and held today.

Everything one might care to know - descriptions of the stages, explanations about how teams work together, race tactics, etc. - is spelled out in language that is interesting and understandable to a layperson, without being condescending or simplistic. Illustrations are done in what looks like pencil and gouache, occasionally combined with photos and logos collage-style. The pictures have a whimsical, half-finished quality to them that adds textural interest and a sense of spontaneity: Pencil marks are visible and the density of brush strokes is uneven. While parts of the same image might be rendered in great detail, other parts look almost like abstract colour blocks. Combined with the pop-up features, it all comes together well to attract the viewer's eye to even the most minute details of the illustrations. The book is exciting and succeeds in portraying the Tour de France as a very real and very appealing event.

Then of course there is the cute factor. There are tiny cut-outs of jerseys for the various race stages.

And things like this, where you get to see who's inside the team car by pulling on the tab, or who rides in the caravan by rotating a spinning wheel. Overall, the book comes across as well researched, though I am sure Tour aficionados would find plenty of slip-ups. The only thing I found off was a reference to a "back derailleur".

Held since 1903, the Tour de France is the most famous bicycle race in the world and takes place every year in July - In fact it is happening right now, and today is Stage 16. This year is the first time I've felt inclined to follow the Tour and I am not ashamed to admit that this wonderful pop-up book has contributed to my enjoyment and understanding of the coverage. Whether a novice or a seasoned follower, a child or an adult, the Pop-Up Tour de France is certain put a smile on your face and rev up your enthusiasm for cycling - be it on a racing bike across France or on a 3-speed around the block. I am delighted that a book like this exists about a sport that does not receive as much publicity as its fans would like. Thank you, Paintbox Press, for the opportunity to review it.

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Bicycle Safety: My Perspective

Every so often I am asked to state my views on safety with respect to transportation cycling*. Though reluctant to raise this topic in the past, after more than two years I feel ready to share my perspective. So here it goes, and I ask in advance that you help me keep any ensuing discussion civil:

When it comes to bicycle safety, I draw a categorical distinction between two facets that are often mushed together, but for me are entirely independent: (1) safe behaviour, and (2) protective gear. I believe that safe behaviour is essential and a matter of social responsibility. I believe that protective gear is secondary and a matter of personal choice. This distinction and prioritisation governs (i.e. biases) the views on transportational cycling that are expressed throughout this blog.

To clarify what I mean by "safe behaviour" on a bicycle, here are the points I consider crucial:

Riding a bicycle that is functional and road-ready
Taking reasonable steps to ensure one's bicycle will not fail on the road. This includes making certain that the wheels are secured and that the brakes, lights, and other crucial components are functional. Riding a bike with known mechanical problems, insufficient braking capacity, or any unusual features that make it intentionally difficult to operate, can have disastrous consequences in traffic.

Being in possession of basic bike handling skills
This includes being able to start and stop without faltering, to maintain a line of travel without weaving, to reduce speed when appropriate, and to safely maneuver around obstacles. It helps to ride the type of bike one is comfortable with and in a way they are comfortable with, depending on skill level and personal preference. Those who do not yet possess adequate handling skills should practice on trails and quiet side streets before mixing with traffic.

Adhering to traffic laws
Knowing and following local traffic laws, as they pertain to bicyclists. This includes respecting lane directionality, street lights, stop signs and right of way, signaling turns and intentions to merge, and in general behaving predictably.

Knowing safety maneuvers
Awareness of various crucial safety maneuvers and the ability to execute them. For instance: not positioning oneself in the blind spot of a car that could turn into one's line of travel, not cycling in the door zone of parked cars, and not passing other cyclists on the right.

Being visible
Having sufficient lighting on one's bicycle, so as to be clearly visible to others on the roads in the dark and in inclement weather.

Being vigilant
Paying attention while cycling; being cautious and attentive to what goes on in one's peripheral vision while resisting distractions. This includes not being engrossed in conversation with fellow cyclists, not chatting on one's mobile phone or texting, and otherwise not engaging in activities that detract from an awareness of one's surroundings.

You might not agree with me on some aspects of these points, but I believe in them and try to adhere to them to the best of my ability. In my view, this makes me a conservative and safe cyclist.

As for protective gear (helmets, knee pads, steel-toed boots, padded vests, pre-emptive neck and back braces, etc), these things are simply not relevant to the safe operation of a bicycle. We all have the right to expect safe behaviour from each other, when the behaviour impacts other road users. But we do not have the right to decide what each other's personal comfort levels ought to be, when this comfort has no effect on us.

In addition, I think that protective gear - whether we believe it to be useful or not - is secondary to safe behaviour to such an extent, that to stress it above the other stuff (as I feel is routinely done in safety campaigns) is misguided and even, dare I say, dangerous. As I write this, out of the window I can see a helmeted cyclist making a left turn onto a one way street against traffic, riding a bicycle with no handbrakes and no lights. I think this sort of thing is a direct result of promoting protective gear instead of safe behaviour, and I think it's evidence that we have our priorities backwards. I do not find that my views on this matter are radical, although sometimes I am made to feel as if they are. Whether you agree or not is entirely up to you.

--
*a small group of us (Dave from Portlandize, Matt from Bicycles, Books and Bowties, and myself) are working on a transportation cycling brochure, where the topic of safety will be covered. However, I am not the person who is writing that particular section, and the opinions expressed here - though congruent with those in the brochure - are my own.

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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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Rapha Women's Line... I Don't Get It

Rapha is one of those companies that people tend to either love, or love to hate. Essentially a manufacturer of high-end cycling clothing, but also a magazine publisher, racing sponsor,  event organiser, bicycle design collaborator, and general "lifestyle brand," Rapha promotes an unapologetically romantic vision of roadcycling via an endless output of dreamy images as part of its advertising and social media campaigns. Slender, beautifully backlit cyclists suffer exquisitely as they scale mountains - often in black and white, and often to the accompaniment of haunting music, fostering a sense of nostalgia for a time that is not yet in the past. The garments offered are minimalist and expensive. That is Rapha in a nutshell. 

Now, let me make it clear that I have nothing against Rapha's marketing tactics. I appreciate an effective advertising campaign achieved through emotional channels, and for this they surely deserve an award. When something inspires such excellent parody, you know it's reached iconic status. I also have nothing against brands that are considered luxury or high end, if the quality of their products reflects the price. So what's my problem with Rapha? It's not so much a problem, as a genuine feeling of dissonance - at least when it comes to the women's line. When I encounter their clothing in person, what's in front of me does not match the image cultivated by the impressive adverts.

Take, for instance, the Women's Stowaway Jacket. Last summer I was desperate for a cycling rain jacket after my old windbreaker came apart. I wanted the jacket to be form-fitting, waterproof, and, ideally, red. Having exhausted the less pricey alternatives, I followed up on a suggestion to try Rapha. The Stowaway happened to be on sale at the Ride Studio Cafe at the time, and I came prepared to buy it. I tried on the jacket. It wasn't bad. I mean, not horrendous. Basically, it looked like a tracksuit top circa 1982 - something you'd expect to see on, say, an East German gymnast of that era. It's an intriguing look if you can pull that sort of thing off, but not especially flattering. The shade of red also strikes me as uninspired: not an exciting bright red and not a classic vintagey-brick either, but a dated crimson that I do not readily associate with cycling.

True to '80s tracksuits styling, the fit is tight in the chest, but mysteriously baggy above the chest - forming strange folds at the collar that threatened to constrict my breathing.

And do you see that bulge in the back? You're probably thinking that's the rear pockets. Nope. This cycling jacket has no rear pockets; that's just a bulge that forms on its own.

Although there are side pockets, they are small - so small, that I had trouble sticking my hands inside. Mind you, none of these design flaws are at all unusual in the sadistic world of women's cycling apparel, and if anything Rapha is not as bad as some of the alternatives. But for me, that is just not good enough given what I was made to expect.

Moving on to the Classic Women's Jersey - which I had considered when looking for wool cycling clothing: The styling in itself is all right, except that the full-length zipper creates artificial "tummy folds," as is common with this type of jersey.

The fabric is described as "sportwool," but as soon as I put it on, it became clear that this was a euphemism for a polyester-heavy blend. I later checked and yup: "sportwool" is 60% polyester.

Though the minimalist design is tasteful and subtle, I would rate the texture of the fabric as average on the rough vs silky scale. And for a hot weather jersey, it seemed somewhat heavy to me.

One nice thing about the Rapha jerseys, is that they come with arm warmers. Problem is (and I am not the only one to have noted this), that the arm warmers seem to be one size smaller than the jersey - rendering them essentially useless for those whose arms are not stick-thin. Too bad, because including matching arm warmers is a wonderful idea.

I could go on about other items in the Rapha women's line, but that's probably enough for now. Suffice to say that I find all of it more or less all right, but by no means extraordinary either in quality or looks. I am supportive of what Rapha is trying to do - create inspiring, classic, tasteful, well made cycling clothing. We can certainly use more brands that create such clothing for female cyclists, so really, I am all for it.  But come on Rapha: Live up to your image. Watching all those dreamy backlit videos, I expected some truly "epic" women's cycling apparel... and this ain't it.

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