Adventures in Retrofitting

My first official cyclocross season came and went without amounting to much of anything.  I found a bike in September, just before the season’s first race.  Finding the bike had been a challenge of it’s own.  Let me put it this way: had there been a handful of cyclocross bikes to choose from, I may not have ended up with the one I’m riding.  Don’t get me wrong, it’s a great bike, but it’s mine simply because there wasn’t another choice.  There just aren’t many bikes available in the small size I ride, which is probably fodder for another blog post.  Nevertheless, I finished a couple of races and then experienced a series of flats which resulted in a few DNF’s (Did Not Finish).

Since I had only one wheel set, I very quickly found myself in a place where I needed to make some changes to said wheel set in order to get back into the races AND finish.  The choices were 1. to use a conversion kit on the stock wheels that would result in a tubeless setup or 2. to upgrade the wheel set to a tubeless ready system.  In other words, choice 1 costs around $80 and choice 2 closer to $500 and up.  Since I wasn’t sure how long I would keep the bike, I decided to go with choice 1 and consider choice 2 next year after I had a few more races under my belt and a better sense of whether I wanted to keep the bike.

After doing some web searching, watching videos, and reading step-by-step instructions, I was confident in my (husband’s) ability to successfully complete the conversion under my supervision*.  The Stan’s No Tubes web site even states “Converting requires very little mechanical ability but it is important to follow the Instructions.”  I was confident that even a non-bike mechanic gal like myself could supervise this project flawlessly.

I purchased the cyclocross conversion kit.   The process of cleaning the wheel, drilling the valve hole, and applying the rim tape was easy enough.  The problem we encountered was that the rim was chewed up enough to leave a gap large enough that the rim tape, tire, and sealant combined weren’t enough to close that gap.  Yes, we tried the compressor.  It resulted in a shower of Stan’s sealant all over a friend’s garage before we finally gave up.  Here’s an image of the rim to give you an idea of the kind of ding that prevented this conversion from working.

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I wish the very thorough instructions and videos on the Stan’s web site would have mentioned that your rims need to be ding free in order to work with the conversion kit.  Unfortunately for me, the conversion kit was a failure and waste of money.  On the bright side, I have a sweet new wheel set on a bike I may or may not keep and another wheel set that is very likely to become wall art. I’d say everyone won in this case!

*Disclaimer:  I’m not a bike mechanic.  I don’t even play one on TV.  But I do have a very handy husband who helped me with the conversion.

The Emergency Commute

I frequently commute via bike to my job…it’s only a 3 mile trip, so there isn’t really a good excuse not to ride to work!  Because North Table Mesa sits between my house and work destination, sometimes I’ll take the dirt around the base of the mesa.  When I opt for this route, I usually select either my mountain or cyclocross bike.  Most days, however, I ride my road bike in the hopes that I’ll have the opportunity to tack on some additional mileage to my commute.  I’ve written in other blog posts about how I like to be prepared for the unexpected when I ride.  However, I found myself dreadfully unprepared last week when my phone rang and my husband informed me that he was on his way to the Emergency Room at St. Anthony’s Hospital.

a + cMaybe I should clarify… I was prepared to fix a flat tire, or to use the multi-tool I keep in the pouch under my saddle to adjust something, or to ride for 40 miles if the opportunity presented itself.  I was not prepared to go to an ER.  Where would I put my bike, especially since I didn’t have a lock with me?  Would it take longer to ride there than to pedal home, get the car, and turn around and drive right past where I was sitting to get to the hospital?  The biggest question of all was whether Motoman was experiencing a blood clot in his lungs and if so, could I get there in time?  My mind was racing with questions.

I quickly used google maps to find a bicycling route from where I was to the hospital where Motoman was going.  Fortunately for me, I had chosen to ride the road bike on this day.  I knew my way through Golden by bike just fine, but riding through Lakewood was completely new to me.  I got a general idea of the way I wanted to go and good ole Google was showing it would take me an hour to ride there.  I was confident that on this occasion, Google was wrong.  I stuffed my crocs in my backpack so I’d have something besides cycling shoes to wear when I arrived at the ER, strapped on my shoes and helmet, and pedaled away.

I arrived at St. Anthony’s ER 42 minutes later.  Security was kind enough to watch over my bike for the few minutes it took to track down Motoman and get the key to the car he’d driven to the ER.  I’m sure they would have held onto the bike indefinitely, but I’ve never trusted complete strangers with any of my babies.  I locked the bike in the car and spent the next couple of hours with Motoman.  He was later discharged with a diagnosis of Atelectasis – a complication of the surgery he’d had two days before.

Since that day, I’ve toyed with the idea of carrying with me a locking cable no matter what kind of ride I’m taking – leisure or commute.  But the reality is that I’m not sure I want to be prepared for a trip to the ER.  So for now, the lock will stay in the garage until my next commute to the grocery store.

Lessons From Dude #4

I went for a mountain bike ride today with a friend.  As I loaded the car, I was sure to pack a variety of clothing.  We were driving to the trail head and it sits about 2,400 feet higher in elevation than where I live.  I wanted to be prepared for wind, rain, and the potential for a hot ride as the sun climbed higher in the sky. I packed a variety of food.  Some of which would be eaten on the go as the trail (and my one-handed dexterity) permitted, while other food would require a stop to open and consume.  Lastly, I’d want something more filling for the drive home post ride.   Maybe I do this because I don’t like to be cold, or maybe it’s because I’m a mom.  Whatever the reason, I just like to be prepared.

I go through the same process in preparing my bike for the ride.  Tire pressure is checked and adjusted to the characteristics of the trail to be ridden.  The chain is checked and lubed if necessary.  The hydration pack is filled with water and checked for a multi-tool, tubes, pump, patch kit, and compressed air.  Having experienced a variety of mechanical problems along the trail, I like to be prepared to address the issues I may encounter or lend a hand to anyone else in need.  Ultimately, however, I’m there to ride and not push my bike back to the car.  The people I ride with seem to share this philosophy of preparedness.

As I was riding along a 12 mile loop called Centennial Cone, I encountered 3 mountain bikers from the same team* with matching lycra.  The third guy told me that I could expect one more dude wearing the same kit.  These were the kind of guys that like to go fast and I was concerned that I might meet Dude #4 on a blind corner.  There is some cliff exposure along the particular section of the trail where I was expecting Dude #4.  I kept calling out as I approached blind corners in the hopes of alerting anyone who might be flying along the trail to my presence.  Nearly two miles passed, and Dude #4 still had yet to make an appearance.

As I approached the crest of a hill, I stopped to wait for my buddy and have a snack (the kind that requires two hands to open).    We both took the opportunity to remove excess clothing as all the climbing coupled with the sunshine was warming us up.  At this point, we were roughly halfway ~ 6 miles~ into our ride.  As we began the descent into Elk Creek, we soon came upon Dude #4 who was pushing his bike up the hill.  As he limped along, I could see he had a rear flat, no water, no tools… nothing but him and his bike.  I asked if he needed a pump.  He replied that he also needed a tube.  I suggested that he could  use a 26″ wheel tube in his 29″ tire, but he declined.  He went on to say that he was the one who came out to ride unprepared, so he would continue walking the remainder of the way.  I suspect he had about a 2.5 mile hike ahead of him, based on where he had likely parked and began the ride with his buddies.  And his buddies probably still hadn’t realized that he’d crashed out miles before.

At the next stop as I waited for my friend to catch up, I continued to think about Dude #4.   How could anyone even consider riding this loop so….. unprepared??  The loop is 12 miles long with 1,850 feet of elevation gain.  At some point, even the best of riders will want at least a sip of water.  The climbing is strenuous.  Once again, at some point, even the best of riders will want a mouthful of energy.  I’ve seen broken chains and flats on this trail.  Mechanical issues can and do happen to bikes, no matter how well they are cared for.  Crashes can and do happen, even to the best of riders.

As I reflect on today’s ride, I’d like to thank Dude #4 for the lessons and reminders.  First, thanks for the reminder of why I prepare for a ride the way that I do.  I’m thankful that I carry all that extra gear that I don’t need 99% of the time, because I’m there to ride and not hike.  I’m thankful that the people I ride with wait for one another at periodic intervals and circle back when it seems to be taking someone too long to appear on the trail.    Lastly, thanks for owning your decision to ride unprepared and not interrupting my ride to fix the issues you could have addressed yourself, had you been properly prepared.  I suppose all that time hiking with your bike gave you lots of time to think about your ride.  I hope it was fun before the crash.

*  The team that Dudes 1-4 represent shall remain anonymous.

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Views from the Centennial Cone trail.

What’s that Noise??

I was out for a ride on July 6th on my Cannondale SuperSix Evo, when I began to hear a clicking noise emanating from the bottom bracket.  I recorded this video:  and sent it to my personal mechanic for his input.  After watching the video and doing some online research, his conclusion was that the bearings in the bottom bracket were going bad and would need to be replaced.  Having just gotten the bike in January (less than 6 months ago), we were shocked that bearing replacement would be necessary already.

The next day I went out and turned the cranks on the bike and there wasn’t any clicking.  So I decided to go for a ride.  25 miles later, I returned home without any clicking from the bottom bracket.   On each ride that week, the clicking would sporadically appear and disappear.  I finally decided that I needed to get the bike in to Treads for service.  When I called, they were unable to fit my bike in until the following Monday.  This was unfortunate because I was riding in the Triple Bypass on Saturday.  I went ahead and scheduled the appointment and decided to take my chances on riding the Triple Bypass.  The worst case scenario would be listening to that clicking for 120 miles… but because the clicking had been so sporadic all week, it was possible that it would not make any noise at all.  Fingers crossed!!

On the morning of Saturday, July 12th, I began the Triple Bypass in Bergen Park on Squaw Pass Road.  As I pedaled along, the only noises coming from my bike were the occasional sounds of shifting and the normal noise the chain makes as it moves along the cogs.  However, after remounting at the first Aid Station at the top of Squaw Pass, I heard a couple of clicks as I pedaled away.  I began the descent into Idaho Springs shortly thereafter and hoped that by the time I got to the bottom, the noise would resolve itself.  This was not the case.  As it became necessary to begin pedaling after the descent, the clicking continued to get worse; eventually it became more of a grinding noise.

The silver lining to having my bike make this noise was that I no longer needed to announce to anyone that I was “on their left.”  In fact, I had a few people actually begin to look around in bewilderment as I approached.  I was told on more than one occasion as I passed that they thought the noise was coming from their own bike.  How I wished that were the case.  That noise went on for 90 miles.  90!!!!  I had people make jokes about it as I went by, others just shook their heads in dismay.  Still others were certain that they knew just what was wrong with my bike.  One person suggested that I get off and check my cadence sensor because her bike once made the “exact” same noise and that’s what it was.  Another suggested I had a stowaway cricket.  My favorite was that I just needed to lube that chain!

The wonderful mechanics at Treads had my bike back to me within a couple of days.  The issue, you ask?  It was indeed the bearings in the bottom bracket and not the cadence sensor, not the chain in need of lube, and not a cricket.

 

Becoming Self Sufficient

When I was a little girl, I used to help my dad work on our family cars.  As his grease monkey, I started out retrieving the various tools & parts necessary for each job.  Eventually, it got to the point where I would do some of the work and he would supervise.  I guess he knew early on that my independent spirit would take me miles from home and that I would need to have the skill set necessary to prevent becoming stranded.  I never minded having a little grease under my nails and after college relished the fact that every dollar I saved on oil changes meant an additional dollar in the piggy bank for something fun.

When I hopped on the bike a couple of years ago, I quickly saw that I would need to become self sufficient on some basic and common bike mechanical issues.  I didn’t want to be the kind of cyclist who needed to be rescued.  And I certainly Rampage picdidn’t want to burden my husband with bike stuff, although he’s been so supportive of this cycling journey since day one.  One of the very first clinics offered by my team was a basic bike maintenance clinic… complete with food, beer, and wine!  We brought our bikes and actually removed tires and tubes and put them back on.  We patched a hole in a tube.  We adjusted brakes and derailleurs.

I knew the day would come when I would be forced to fix a flat along the side of the road or single track , miles from home or miles from my car.  I was fortunate that it was a lovely, sunny Colorado day when it happened.  I had just ridden up Lookout Mountain and had stopped for a snack at the top.  One of my team mates happened to be pedaling by and we decided to descend down Highway 40 together and perhaps head over to Red Rocks Amphitheater.  About one third of the way down, my ride suddenly felt “squishy”.  I signaled that I was slowing and came to a stop along the side of the road.  A quick inspection revealed what would be my first flat rear tire.

I was absolutely thrilled to have an experienced cyclist like Gary there to watch over what I was doing as I pulled off the wheel and retrieved tire irons, tube, and pump.  Following the team clinic, I had practiced changing flats at home under the watchful eye of my husband,  so the process went very smoothly and I forgot only one step that Gary reminded me of.  The route home happened to take me by two different bike shops, but I didn’t stop; there was no need to stop because I was self sufficient!  

IMG_2512Isn’t self sufficiency everyone’s goal to some degree?  It’s what I hope to impart on my daughter, similar to what my dad did for me.  If you don’t have kids, your parents very likely wanted it for you, long before you knew you wanted it for yourself.  Conquering some small part of the universe, be it a flat bike tire, a broken chain on a mountain bike miles into the woods, or a detached fuel line in your car engine in the middle of nowhere, reduces the fear of the unknown and breeds confidence in going the extra distance or taking the path less travelled.   My hope for you is that you’ll find something that you, too, can conquer and it will bring you the confidence to begin your cycling journey ~ or perhaps to take it a bit further.

You Just Keep Pushing

It’s no secret that I’ve just embarked on my cycling journey and the main ride for this journey has been a 13-year-old Cannondale that I like to call Ruby.  When I bought Ruby all those years ago, she came with Shimano Ultegra components.  At one point, those shifters worked like a dream.  Although now it has been so long ago that I can’t remember how that felt, or when it stopped feeling that way.  What I know now is that it takes a ridiculous amount of muscle tension and effort to shift one gear on either the big ring or the rear cassette. Post ride, I was frequently left with achy fingers for a souvenir.  However, at some point my fingers must have adapted and gotten stronger because I continued to ride and muscle through the gears, but the finger pain subsided.  Eventually, I came to accept that this is the way shifting was – effortful.

Then one day as I was out for a group ride through a clinic called “Ride with a Legend”, Alison Dunlap settled in beside me.  As we chatted and pedaled along over the rolling terrain in Golden, Colorado, I became aware of how effortless shifting was for her.  She extended her open hand down toward the shifters and sort of wiggled her fingers in mid air, as if she was tapping her fingers absent-mindedly on a counter top while thoroughly pondering whether or not she did, in fact, wish to change gears.  Then, with one finger ~ quite possibly a ring finger~ she quickly and lightly tapped the shifter. With one soft but distinct click, the process of changing gears was complete!  In that moment, I was certain of two things:  she very likely had never experienced achy fingers from shifting during a ride and that I, too, would one day shift gears effortlessly!

When it came time for me to research bikes and all of their options, I heard from many of my teammates who were vocal about not buying this or that component group because “they’re used to what they have”.  I decided to be open to whatever components came with the model of bike that I wanted.  I figured I’m a human, I can adapt….it’s what we do.  My only requirement was that I would be able to shift effortlessly.

The new Cannondale I got earlier this winter (see my blog post “the gift of a new bike”) has the SRAM RED component group.  It’s completely different from my old shifters.  The other day my husband stopped to admire my bike as it was leaned against the wall in our entryway.  “How do the shifters work?” he asked.  I replied, “You just keep pushing.  You have to push through shifting up to shift down.”

Isn’t that true about so many things in our lives?  You just keep pushing.  For my cycling journey, it has meant that I just keep shifting and pedaling regardless of how effortful or effortless each ride is.  Because I know that every time I’m out there pushing myself through a ride, I finish the day as a stronger, faster, and perhaps most importantly, happier cyclist, wife, mother, human being.

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Airflow

I’m lucky to live in beautiful Colorado where, given the proper equipment, I have the option to ride my bike year round.  When I started cycling seriously, I only had very old equipment and warm weather riding gear.  So when I started training for my first race in the fall of 2011, I had to make some investments in quality, warm clothing that would enable me to train outside on my bike throughout the upcoming winter.

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The Cannondale Cypher helmet

My helmet never made it into a classification of warm weather gear nor cold weather gear.  It was just a piece of equipment that I don before departing on each and every ride.  I had a fairly serious mountain biking crash last fall which left a gash in the old helmet, so I was a little suspect of it’s ability to adequately protect my melon.   When the opportunity for a team issue Cannondale Cypher helmet presented itself through Treads, our team store, I decided to buy one.

It turns out that the new helmet has more airflow!  Which in the summer will be great for keeping my head cool, however in the winter, it means brrrrrrr!  Now I was in need of another layer between my head and the helmet. Being that I am both a knitter and a somewhat frugal cyclist, I did consider knitting up a nice little wool beanie to do the job.  But that would have cut into the precious little riding time available this time of the year, so I ended up with this:

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The Halo Anti-Freeze Skull Cap – complete with team logo

First of all: I promise that I’m not trying to look like a gangster!  This beanie is from Halo and it is wonderful not because of its name (Anti Freeze Skull Cap), but because of the ear flaps, its thinness, and the fact that it keeps sweat from running into your eyes.  Yes, you will eventually sweat enough to warrant this feature when riding outside in the winter.

As I was pedaling along the other day in my helmet and skull cap, it occurred to me that a helmet’s airflow is similar to our willingness and ability to be open to new life experiences.  Remember when you were a kid and anything was possible?  Think waaaay back to before you became skeptical; before you felt hurt, rejection, or failure.  That’s when you were going through life wearing the invisible helmet with the great airflow.  As you rolled through life, you began to close off portions of your heart and mind to the pain that inevitably results from life experiences.  This is when you replaced the helmet with the great airflow with a helmet that restricted airflow.  Maybe you went so far as to place a buffer around your feelings, like a skull cap.  Between the two, you may have created a very safe place for yourself… but if it’s a place void of new life experiences, may I suggest a new helmet??