Peddling Pedaling Stuff

Sometime around 1974 I found myself pedaling my 3 speed bike out along a rural roadway a couple miles from home. Like many Gen Xers, my bicycle symbolized freedom. As far as Mom knew (or cared) I was out riding around the block. As long as I was home before it started to get dark she was happy I was outside and not moping about the house. As it was, I felt like my bike and I were off on a big adventure. Never was there thought of carrying water, a spare tire or flat kit, or any sort of communication. It would be years before cell phones came along and who gives 8 year olds cell phones anyway? No it was just me and my red 3 speed pedaling along wondering what was around the next bend.

Until I was old enough to drive, my bicycle was my transportation for all manner of adventures. Often loaded down carrying fishing and hunting gear in precarious ways, it is a wonder I didn’t crash. In fact, the only crash I remember was rather spectacular and humorous. It could have been really bad but wasn’t and still makes me laugh. Off on some adventure across the township I suddenly noticed a gray, summer storm cloud rolling in. I turned toward home and began stomping the pedals for all I was worth. I remember picturing myself the bike racer as I leaned dangerously in the turns and finally racing up our driveway shortly after the rain started sluicing down. As the first crackle of thunder sounded, I breathed a sigh of relief as I approached the closed garage at the end of the drive. I pressed the brake levers . . . and absolutely nothing happened. The rubber brakes pads were completely useless against the slick, wet rims. I didn’t even slow down as the front wheel plowed into the garage door and I careened over the handle bars. Fortunately, I did a half-somersault in mid-air and the hard blow against the garage door was absorbed across my back rather than my skull or a vulnerable collar bone. I collapsed with my bike into a puddle forming at the base of the garage. After a quick self-evaluation, I started laughing about the ridiculousness of it, collected my bike and got out of the storm.

Since then, I’ve had off and on forays into cycling. In college and shortly thereafter, I had a Schwinn road bike (back when Schwinn wasn’t a box store brand) that I road fairly seriously for a while. It was a beautiful bike but, looking back, totally the wrong size for me. I also had a Specialized Hard Rock Sport mountain bike. I never became an enthusiastic mountain biker and mostly purchased it for the “World Series of Birding“, but that is a topic for another post. Being a new graduate with a demanding job, I didn’t have the mountain bike long and exited from cycling for many years. There simply wasn’t time or desire to ride a bike.

Fast forward to 2010. After become a giant, amorphous blob for many years, I had started to get in shape and had began running somewhat seriously. All manner of races intrigued me but none so much as triathlon. The late 2000s was probably the hay day of triathlon and it seemed like one more person couldn’t possibly fit in the sport but I wanted to give it a try. To that end, I had signed up for my first triathlon which was really exciting. There were two problems I needed to address that seemed fairly immediate. First, I wasn’t a member of a gym with a pool and hadn’t swam seriously since my Water Safety Instruction class in college some 24 years prior. Second, I didn’t currently own a bike. Since triathlon involves Swim, Bike, Run it seemed relatively important to address both of those issues. To that end, while returning from the Rehoboth Beach Marathon, I bought a new Cannondale CAAD 7 in tax-free Delaware. (If you work for the PA Department of Revenue . . please ignore.)

The Cannondale would be the first of several bikes I worked my way through in my triathlon career culminating with a purpose-built lightning fast Specialized Shiv that fit like an extension of my legs. She became known as Rakita and she and I logged many miles and races together. I always felt that bike was like a corvette with a 4 cylinder engine and never could truly do it justice. Prior to the Pandemic, and after 9 years of racing, my interest in triathlon began to wane. Multiple workouts a day left little time for anything else and burnout became real. Rakita moved on to a hopeful gentleman who planned on doing his first Ironman in 2020. Little did he or any of us know what that would bring. Hopefully he got to do one eventually.

But Rakita wasn’t my last bicycle. When my running future became only a distant possibility, I purchased another option in the form of a gravel or all-road bike. I had hoped to be inspired at some point to do an event like the Dirty Kansa, or maybe just trail ride across some of the awesome trails we have here in Pennsylvania. As it turned out, I put a set of road tires on my gravel bike and rode almost exclusively on the road with only the occasional foray down the nearby Schuylkill River trail.

To be clear, I love the idea of cycling and I love being out pedaling the back roads on a nice summer day. But I am definitely a fair weather cyclist. I’ve made the effort more than once to bundle up in long tights, jackets, buffs, shoe warmers, and mittens to head out into a sunny, winter day of cycling and I never enjoy it. It turns out to be a cold, snotty mess and I wind up with serious Raynaud’s Syndrome and a pile of stinky cycling clothes. I’ll go run in 0 degree weather, but hate cold weather cycling. A tip of the cute little bike hat to those out there in 30 degree weather cranking away on the chain.

The last couple years I have found my time and interest in cycling in serious decline. Again, I love seeing the country by bike, but my spouse does not ride and it is one more thing I do by myself. Unlike running where an hour is a significant workout, an hour on the bike is a nice warm-up for a longer ride. I often thought I would take my bicycle along when we camped and once in a while I did but found it was more trouble than it was worth. Even then, I’d go off riding leaving my wife alone at camp for several hours. When push came to shove, it was easier to leave the bike home.

Finally, I reviewed my cycling from last year. With a couple exceptions, nearly all of my riding was the Tuesday night club ride. Collectively, I had ridden less than 400 miles outside with somewhat less than that on my indoor trainer over the winter. My bike needed some work, I needed new shoes, and most of my bike shorts were worn through or thin (and nobody wants to see that). The unfamiliar reader might ask “So get some new shoes and shorts and go ride.” The avid cyclist sees that list and realizes how expensive it is. It is preposterous that cycling shoes cost what they do especially since their main purpose is to connect the rider to the pedals. They generally aren’t even weight bearing but, based on the price, one might think a couple ounces of gold or platinum is incorporated into the manufacturing process. Anyway, being at somewhat of a crossroads equipment wise, I made the decision to, at least for now, retire from cycling.

On one of those warm spring days when others were out riding and I had no compunction about not riding, I removed my Specialized Diverge from its winter home on the trainer, gave it a bath, re-lubed the chain and snapped a few marketing photos. I posted the pics and price on a couple local social media pages and later that same day, sold my last bike to a very nice young couple from Norristown.

With the bike gone, I began looking around the garage at all the other cycling equipment I no longer need and, surprisingly, how much money was wrapped up in it. There was the expensive smart trainer and mat, bike rack for the car, a couple tool boxes full of expensive tools, a bike computer, a work stand, and a seemingly endless supply of inner tubes of different sizes. Most of it is gone now except for some tools and the bike stand that needs a bit of TLC before being offered up. I also freed up an entire over-stuffed drawer in my dresser getting rid of cycling clothes. Jerseys were given away and shorts/pants trashed. A used jersey is one thing but using someone else cycling pants would just be . . . um . . NO!

Perhaps I’ll get another bike someday. An eBike could be handy assuming I ever find a convenient way to carry one in the RV. I’ll still follow my cycling friend’s adventures and cycling will still be one of my favorite sports but as of now, I’m not missing my own cycling. I feel fortunate to have ridden pretty seriously for the last 15 years or so without either a fall or being hit by a car. The latter seems almost inevitable with the impatient and distracted cyclist-hating drivers on the roads these days.