Crashing

In between working, I've been closely following all the action of Le Tour de France over the last two weeks (I missed week one by being in New Mexico) via the live commentary on the web. As of today Alberto Contador (of team Discovery Channel) is in yellow. For the non-cyclist reader: that means he's winning. I am among the fans who cheered every day this week as another doper was caught and dismissed from the race. I like my sports clean (long live the triumph of Hammerin' Hank).

Along with crazy speeds and impossible climbs, crashes are a consistent part of each day of the Tour. Just about half an hour ago the four stage leaders who had "escaped" from the peloton ran into a stray dog. I mean RAN INTO the dog. Two cyclists crashed and needed medical attention along with new bicycles. World-class athletes having to cope with house pets on the loose. Now that's some quirkiness I can appreciate. Both riders are still competing in the stage, by the way. No word on the dog's condition.

I am no world class rider (this is notsospeedy you are reading, remember) but I did experience my first crash of "the big ride" yesterday in Sedgwick Co. Park.

I ran into a kid.

For the record it was 100% his fault. A fact of which he was well aware after my lecture in English and his mother's in Spanish. Bilingually he was told that riders approaching each other stay on the right side of the road. Each to her right and no one gets hurt. He keep veering left, I kept veering right, it was one of those awful moments of miscommunication where eventually all you can do is run into each other.

Before you go thinking I still bear responsibility considering I am the adult, on a better machine and a more experienced rider, please know that this was a 12 year old boy on a bmx bike who, it appeared, weighs more than I do. If he had been a six-year-old I would have all but stopped as we approached one another. That way I could have adjusted to whatever course he decided to take. But he was almost a teenager, I assumed he knew what to do. He didn't and we crashed head-on.

Thankfully neither we nor our bicycles were hurt. I don't even remember seeing blood. As a crash then, it was less than spectacular. Except for the fact that I hit a kid. And that once he got over being shocked he was traumatized enough to cry. I think he'll remember to keep to the right next time.

I am thankful that the mother helped remove all the burrs from my clothing (especially my bike shorts! Yikes). I wasn't even stiff this morning so I grabbed another quick 10 miles while it was 69 degrees--what a treat for July. It really does pay to get up early (grumble, grumble). And less teenagers on the path at 8am.

I just read that Sandy Casar (involved in the dog crash) was voted the "most aggressive rider" of stage 18 of the Tour. He's got a big wound on his right hip and had to see the race doctor for some pain in his shoulder mid-race. That's a sympathy vote if I've ever seen one. Oh! He just won the stage! What a crazy sport.

we are family

Miss me?
I took last week off from cycling to be on a volunteer work team with the church. Instead of miles on the bike or treadmill my exercise was shoveling dirt, picking apricots, walking all over the McCurdy campus, picking up trash and a few excellent hikes in Northern New Mexico. I did manage to run three out of seven mornings so it wasn’t a total cardio loss.

When I got home late Sunday night I thought I would jump right back into training where I had left off. Wrong. Really wrong. Instead in the days I have been home I have stuggled to do much of anything at all. One brief run. One brief ride. And now it's Friday.

I suppose it was the eight solid days of people and work (let’s be honest, I was with church members) that has left me feeling only like curling up at home when I break free from the office each day. This Friday morning I thought I’d celebrate a day away from church by jumping out of bed at 6:45 and hoping on the bike for a long ride. Instead it's 11:15 and all I’ve accomplished is eating a bagel. Oh the bagel was good, but still.

Okay enough whining. This is for fun anyway right? My body will rest and I will feel like riding and running and all that again. I know a slacker week is just that, a week. Next week will be different.

Besides the best moment of the week re: the big ride didn’t come from training at all. Tuesday I received in the mail a donation from Mary Lou and Larry Grove (thank you!) and a handwritten note reminding me of the more significant part of this enterprise.

(side note: Thanks to all those who have donated. I am now half-way done with the fundraising! Whoo hoo! I appreciate your support immmensly.)

Mary Lou, I hope you don’t mind me quoting you here… She said,

“We remember the struggle your Aunt Pat endured, as well as your folks and grandparents. It was a very difficult time for all of them. Larry and I were in KC keeping your mom company while your dad underwent the harvesting of his bone marrow. We were very aware of Pat’s battle as she tried to beat that terrible disease.
“As we all know, those early procedures provided the foundation for the successful treatments so many people, especially children, are now experiencing. Through the years we have seen several instances and situations which point out the importance of the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society, a wonderful organization!”

My Aunt Pat didn’t live very many weeks beyond the transplant of her brother's bone marrow. Honestly as a 5 year old I was much more aware of my own father’s suffering through that period than I was my Aunt’s. (that was no small thing, it hurt like hell to donate bone marrow.) But I wasn’t in KC. Her hospital room in those last weeks was no place for a small child. So I say thanks to Mary Lou and Larry and all the other people who sat with my parents, prayed with them, and loved them as they watched her die.


As a pastor I know that most families have holes. Patricia Jane’s absence, my dad's older and only sibling, continues to be one of ours. (picture circa 1947, were they not the cutest pair?) Thankfully the Groves remind me that family is also a whole lot bigger than blood and marriage provide.

Maybe I'll ride my bike today after all.

Stars and Stripes

Today was hot. Appropriate for July 4th, I realize. But after a month of rain and clouds, it was a shock. Riding down Greenwhich Road I kept telling myself, “you’re acclimatizing, you’re acclimatizing, It won’t feel this bad on the next ride,” as my stomach was flipping from the heat.

I rolled into my parent’s driveway and immediately got a report from my ever-ready weatherman.

Dadddy: “Hey! How was the ride?” (all sweaty himself from cutting down tree branches with Chad)

Amy: “Hot. What’s the temperature anyway?”

Daddy: “It’s like 79 or 80 but the humidity is 74%”

Amy: “Where were these clouds an hour ago when I was dying out there?”

Daddy: “To the west.”

Thanks Pop. I especially appreciate the exactness of his report. Note: the humidity was 74%. No estimating for Ken, no sir.

Despite the heat it was a good ride. I realize it is a great luxury to have as my priority for the day riding 30 miles on my bicycle. I am thankful for that. I am thankful for a great family to hang out with the rest of this holiday. I am thankful for the puppies, they wait so patiently, don’t they?


Ah, and I am thankful for freedom. It is Independence Day so I will be thankful for that, just for today. During my ride I saw another cyclist wearing an American Flag jersey...blue backed stars across his shoulders, red and white stripes down his back. I was briefly jealous. Then I remembered I smush all my patriotic feelings into this one day. And I don’t wear holiday-themed clothing. Ever.

One scary moment from the ride: I was out on 31st St S winding around Spirit Aerosystems (formerly known as Boeing) when I almost crashed. I was convincing myself to go two more miles before turning around for home to make sure I hit the 30 mile mark…so I guess I was a little distracted. I reached down for my water bottle, the one that rests against the down tube of my bike because the bottle that is easier to reach was empty. As I leaned down I must have stretched my knee out too far away from the bike because I managed to unclip my right shoe. My foot swung out and back and kicked my rear tire and as I tried to correct the ensuing swerve (with one hand since I had also successfully removed the water bottle and was holding it with my right hand) I went back and forth and back and forth inside my traffic lane. Thankfully there were no cars around, being a holiday and all. I really have no idea how I avoided falling over. But I didn’t, nor did I stop. I found my balance and clipped back in. Lucky. I had visions for the next several miles of chewed up skin, ripped shorts and a very sorry phone call to my parents requesting a pick up.

It is quite possible that I will crash before I get to Tucson. I would just like for it to come from a slightly more impressive reason than, “I was reaching for my water bottle.” Something involving the rescue of small children, perhaps.

Limits

They caught me on Kellogg.
Phooey on the highly efficient speed traps of the Wichita police.

In my defense I was having a rather intense conversation in the car and that section of Kellogg between Rock Rd and Webb feels and looks like an interstate even though the whole silly project is more than a year away from being done. The officer was kind to remind me of that as he wrote my ticket for 54mph in a 35mh. Phooey. PHOOEY!

As I entered the grocery store later yesterday evening I saw a young woman—mid 20’s—calmly walking in handcuffs next to a police officer. Shoplifting? Public Disturbance? I missed whatever drama was to be had in Dillons. But it was a reminder I was not having the worst day in Wichita.
Ready to blow off some steam from my encounter with the law, I went for a bike ride. My first in 10 days thanks to the weirdness of the rainy weather. I’m not sure it was 70 degrees this afternoon. On the ride I passed another oddity.

In Sedgwick County Park there is a sign on the bike path posting a speed limit of 30mph. It is clearly for the bike path not the neighboring traffic on 13th street. No Chad, I am not confused. I wonder which county department I can call to ask, “who in the hell is going to go over 30mph on the bike path?”

I have a cyclometer on my bike. I enjoy seeing how fast I am going…or how much that Kansas headwind is slowing me down. Even descending the biggest hills I don’t think I’ve surpassed 28mph. Of course I am not super brave and I could find a bigger hill (say in Colorado) and go much faster. The Tour de France riders this month will top 50mph on their descents.

No matter. The 30mph sign is on a flat part of the bike path. Who are they trying to control with this sign? 30mph is professional rider paceline speed. And I haven’t seen any of them in Sedgwick County Park.

Unbreakable speed limits, just another reason to bike to work.

not worthy

Two quick experiences in the last week helped me I realized what a novice cyclist I am.

Last Tuesday I was headed home from what I thought was a fairly good ride and as I crossed 13th street on the bike path I came up on another geared-out biker. (You can tell the seriousness or bankroll of a biker by the fabrics they wear. This guy was all spandex and polyester, not a thread of cotton to be found).

He fooled me at first because he was a bit, (quite a bit), older and he struggled to get his shoe clipped in as he crossed the street. I thought “novice.” Then I realized he was wearing a “Ride the Rockies” jersey. Poser? Or accomplished cyclist?

As he came up behind me and then pushed me all the way around the path, I realized the answer was “accomplished.” I kept thinking I was riding at a good effort and would look over my shoulder to see him right on my rear wheel. We were on a section where passing is nearly impossible (along Zoo Blvd and starting down Westdale) so I would push and speed up for him only to find him right behind me again.

As I crossed over to the other side of the street he zoomed on by, shouted out “good ride!” and waved. I was amazed as his piston-like legs propelled him forward, all sinewy and muscular. He has spent many hours in the saddle.

Then as I was leaving Fayetteville, AR this weekend I caught the glimpse of another biker headed toward Mt Sequoyah. He rode quickly up and down the hilly-ness that is Fayetteville, in the pouring rain. Yes, pouring rain.

I’m not worthy.

sleepy

I was in a hurry this morning.

Or at least as soon as I woke up I was. This was one of the few "early morning" rides I have managed. It wasn't really early (compared to you 5:30am risers) but I did start pedaling a scant 30 minutes after getting out of bed. My first miles were full of yawns and stretches and some slow pedaling. Waking up, in motion.

I have realized I need to get accustomed to a sleepy start because it is going to get HOT in Kansas in the next several weeks. Duh. This spring I have enjoyed the habit of 3 or 4 or 5pm rides but very soon it will be much smarter to ride in the morning. Oh and I like to be smart.

This morning I was rewarded for my discipline with great conditions, almost perfect actually, for my 31 mile ride. I was quite relaxed and happy until I realized, around Maize and 21st, that I was going to be late.

When Haverty's automated message system called me earlier in the week the computer informed me that my new living room furniture would be delivered today between 11:15am and 2:15pm (cue grumbling from Amy) They can't get closer than a three hour window? I thought only the cable company pulled stunts like that.

I was sure that I would spend the majority of this day off sitting around in my empty living room waiting for them to show up only to have them roll in at 2:14pm. Though I knew they would be later than I wanted, I still wanted to be at home at 11:15. The last 7 miles of my ride were spent pedaling hard while I was arguing with myself about how there was no way the furniture would be at my house at 11:15 and cursing (or at least blaming) Ken Lippoldt for instilling so much damn responsibility in me that I hate to be late for anything.

Sure enough (you saw where this was headed didn't you?) I turned onto 19th street from Westdale and peered down the block to see a big ole furniture truck in my driveway. It was 11:25. Thankfully they waited.

So now my living room is full of beautiful new furniture.
I have showered, eaten and blogged.
What's left?

Only the inaugural nap on my new sofa. Seems getting up early isn't so bad after all.

Ladybug

I took a long ride on Friday. Not quite as long as I had thought because I got to 119th St West and K-96 and discovered a dirt road. It's probably okay that I only went 26 miles considering the funeral I had this weekend (split over 2 days) meant I wore suit and heels for three days in a row. And exercise weary legs don't like even the slight elevation of short heels. At least not three days in a row. That's what I've learned.



On the ride home on Friday I noticed a ladybug had landed on my shoe. (Is that a sign I should get the previously pictured bell?) I am not quite sure at what stop she affixed herself to the top strap of my right biking shoe, but there she was. And there she stayed.



I do like ladybugs, always have. I think as a child this was related to the fact that they were still "girl-appropriate" but not of the dreaded color, pink. If I had a scanner I would post for you a picture of 5 year old Amy in her ladybug costume waiting for the church children's musical. No scanner, so you will just have to imagine my cute self.



On Friday I was amazed that my passenger ladybug could hold on for the wind sheer. She stayed on my shoe for at least 5 miles. Maybe the top of a bike shoe is an aerodynamically protected space, I have no idea. I hope it was a comfortable ride and not complete terror considering I did enough by totally changing her universe.



She was a Maize ladybug, born and grown in that almost-Wichita town to the northwest. I finally dropped her off at 21st St N and Tyler, far far from her home. I don't know how much ladybugs travel in a lifetime but I am thinking I took her to parts of the world she would have never otherwise seen. I was sorry she didn't hang on until we made it one more block to the park. That would have been ladybug paradise.



I suppose that ladybugs do what ladybugs do where ever they happen to land. I hope so. In that way it might be nice to be a little more ladybug like.

hold on!

Weather.com forecast for today in Wichita:

"Windy with a mix of clouds and sun.

High 92F Winds S at 25 to 40mph.

Winds could occasionally gust over 50mph."

I had planned to bike this afternoon.

I have been talking to myself about how getting ready for El Tour will require gutting out miles in some adverse conditions.

Riding in Kansas means dealing with wind. It is a constant of life here.

I noticed last Friday how my balance on the bike has really improved. I think I am finally getting used to having my feet locked to the pedals.

But I am no fool.

I will run today.

On the treadmill.

Inside.

Far away from bending trees and wind-aided projectiles.

Ring my bell

Would it be uncool to put a bicycle bell on a road bike?

Yesterday I went biking in Sedgwick Co. Park, my standard 10 mile route. Or the outside/inside loop as I like to call it. And I found the runners.

Normally when I ride through the park I encounter picnicking families and walkers, a few rollerbladers and one or four runners. But yesterday they were everywhere! It might have been something magical about 5:30pm or the great 80 degree weather but I must have passed 25 different runners on the inside loop. A high percentage of them were very fit men w/o shirts so it wasn't all bad.

I was feeling good on the bike yesterday and wanted to throw a little speed into the ride so first I had an imaginary race with a biker who was trailing behind me (I kicked his shorts, at least in my own head). The second time I decided to speed up it was in the middle of the runners, some coming at me, some I was passing, some on the left side of the path, some on the right. All the weaving, slowing down, speeding up, left me feeling like I had just reached level five in Frogger.

It also had me wondering in a crash between a cyclist (riding b/w 17 and 20mph) and a runner, who do you think would be hurt worse? (Hey, it's free space on the bike, I can think about whatever I want!) I would certainly fly farther, momentum equals mass times velocity, after all. But considering the runner would encounter my bike first, I think she or he would bear the brunt of a crash.

I don't really want to find out. So, a bell? It would be weird to hear a little bicycle "riiiiiing" and turn around to see some crazed road biker bearing down on you. I guess I'll just keep yelling. Or rather "announcing." I am very polite..."On your left!"

shorts story

I think my shorts are smarter than I am.


Yesterday I squeezed in a quick (7 mile) ride before a personnel meeting and evening prayer at church. The distance was perfect, actually, because I was still plenty sore from the 21 miles I rode on Memorial Day. It is amazing that I will work up to 5 times that length by November.

I was happy for little wind, happy for a little sun, happy for a little biking freedom in the middle of a work day. But mostly I was happy for my shorts! Not in my shorts (I know what you're thinking) for my shorts.

Yesterday's ride was my first time wearing my Pearl izumi "UltraSensor Shorts."


They must be really smart shorts because the label claims all these technical advances like "natural silver antimicrobial ions" and "ultra-plush microfiber padding" along with "dual density pad protection." Not to mention the "capillary action" and "hydrophobic fibers."


Seriously, "hydrophobic?" My shorts are afraid of water?



All I know is they are damn comfortable. So I say today, "thanks" to my dear mother who purchased them last Christmas. They wound up under the tree, I am sure, only because they were on the 50% off rack. (Good thing because they are $90 shorts and my cheap self would have never shelled that out for even the most "epic" comfort--that's on the label too). Oh, I guess she's the smart one.