There's a pleasant camaraderie in cycling; in the nod or the wave to a like minded stranger, heading in a different direction.
Some friends have a VW camper van, and I delight in the quaintly tribal ritual they enact whenever they see another such vehicle on the road. It's almost masonic in its performance, in their cheerful adherence to the peculiar process, in the ritual.
In short, they wave at other drivers. Yes, there's a particular gesture - a secret handshake, if you like - a configuration of fingers and thumb known only to those in on the secret. But fundamentally it's a wave, a salute, a greeting.
That this seems rare and unusual and exotic is a sad reflection on the daily horrors of driving that we collectively endure. Why shouldn't we wave at other drivers? Why shouldn't we connect with the strangers we pass by every day (more likely to recognise the registration plate than the person behind the wheel)? Rather than the begrudging little raise of the finger that we offer when someone has offered us the right of way (although they have stopped we, after all, deserve it) why shouldn't we raise our entire hand in greeting and welcome and thanks?
A strange, sweet camaraderie, then, that camper van owners enjoy.
Sweeter still is that experienced by cyclists, themselves tribal creatures with their team colours and club jerseys, on the brief and fleeting moments when we pass one another on those twilight roads in the commuting hours.
It's a small gesture, usually - there is no need for an extravagant salute at the cyclist's speed. And it is tailored to the conditions. When the weather is better, the light brighter, the eye contact longer, then a raise of the fingers from the hoods will suffice, particularly from those tucked into an aerodynamic position, when lifting the hand off the aerobars is as welcoming as a kiss.
On the grey days, the cold dark foggy days, then something more is needed; a deeper connection, a more strident acknowledgement of a fellow. On on those days a nod or a even a cheerfully-shouted Morning! is required.
And even that small connection is enough.
Showing posts with label cycling. Show all posts
Showing posts with label cycling. Show all posts
Monday, May 12, 2014
Monday, May 5, 2014
Unexpected Delights: Discoveries when Slow Cycling
The old Mandatory Cycle Commute this morning, having left my car at the office last night, brought an unexpected delight.
I've said before that one of the things I love most about cycling is the pace of travel; the opportunity to pass through the world not at a blur, but at a speed that allows me to see it, to enjoy it. Last night, on the ride home, I noticed a strange construction site at the end of the little road that goes over the dual carriageway. It stood out because it's on a bridal path in the middle of nowhere.
Last night, I didn't stop to investigate - it's always better to get home, right? - and that knowledge was still niggling me this morning. That knowledge, and the thought that not every ride is a race, encouraged me to stop this morning and investigate.
It didn't matter that I was already late, and had a busy day ahead of me; what mattered was the thrill of discovery, and of taking the opportunity that cycling affords; to pause for a few minutes and explore.
And what an unexpected delight; the Weymoor Bridge Project, a volunteer-led construction project to restore an ancient bridge. I was rather pleased to have stopped.
I've said before that one of the things I love most about cycling is the pace of travel; the opportunity to pass through the world not at a blur, but at a speed that allows me to see it, to enjoy it. Last night, on the ride home, I noticed a strange construction site at the end of the little road that goes over the dual carriageway. It stood out because it's on a bridal path in the middle of nowhere.
Last night, I didn't stop to investigate - it's always better to get home, right? - and that knowledge was still niggling me this morning. That knowledge, and the thought that not every ride is a race, encouraged me to stop this morning and investigate.
It didn't matter that I was already late, and had a busy day ahead of me; what mattered was the thrill of discovery, and of taking the opportunity that cycling affords; to pause for a few minutes and explore.
And what an unexpected delight; the Weymoor Bridge Project, a volunteer-led construction project to restore an ancient bridge. I was rather pleased to have stopped.
And, of course, I arrived at work with a spring in my step and a broader-than-usual grin.
Sunday, December 30, 2012
Tempted by a New Saddle
I discovered yesterday that Brooks - legendary saddle makers - now make their flagship B17 Standard saddle in a delightful Apple Green.
Given that my singlespeed steed (the excellent Pompino by On-One) is mostly green (right down to the tread on the tyres), I'm now thinking that I need to replace my existing saddle (the super-comfy and delightfully-named Charge Spoon).
Given that my singlespeed steed (the excellent Pompino by On-One) is mostly green (right down to the tread on the tyres), I'm now thinking that I need to replace my existing saddle (the super-comfy and delightfully-named Charge Spoon).
Monday, May 9, 2011
Cycling's Biggest Challenge is Not Motorists
The biggest challenge in promoting cycling is not other road users, truly it's not; the problem is a matter of perception.
In fact, the problem with cycling is soundbites. The desire for a good story. The need to moan rather than to celebrate.
I have never been knocked off my bike by a motorist. And I have ridden on dual carriageways, with heavy traffic doing more than 70 miles per hour, in atrocious road conditions. I have ridden on country roads, with deep ditches, blind corners, narrow lanes. I have ridden in standing traffic, in cities where frustrated travellers wished for a speedy end to their journeys.
All without incident, without a story other than a Good Ride.
I have, in the main - in the vast, vast, vast majority of cases - been given plenty of room, and ample consideration for my own particular requirements as a two-wheeled fragile, slow road user.
People like bad news.
Visitors to the house last weekend commented on my recent tweets and updates on Facebook, where I had fallen into the trap of maligning a couple of specific incidences of unhappy motoring. Two occasions where my morning commute had been marred by stupid, thoughtless behaviour from drivers.
Two times, in the mornings, in the dark hours when we must all commute, must all do the school run, must all do whatever we must do when everyone else is doing what they must, when we would all rather be in bed, in the arms of our loved ones, and certainly not out on the roads with all of them.
I'm not excusing these motorists, mark you; they acted dangerously, erratically, rudely. Morning grumpiness does not, will not ever excuse that. There is no license for unsafe conduct.
But my point is this: people (and I include you, dear readers, in that noun) do not remember the thousands of happy miles; the countless glorious, wonderful simple acts of kindness when motorists have hung back, have given me room, have been aware of me on my little two-wheeled conveyance, and have shown consideration. It is not the moments when I feel that I am flying that catches attention, not the moments when the world settles around me and I am in the zone, cycling the beautiful cadence, delighting in life.
It is the moments of madness, of darkness, of inconsiderate behaviour that are more attractive.
Yes, this is partly because I have not tweeted about those bright moments, the everyday rides. I have not declaimed at length at the necessary - and expected and welcome - decency of the huge majority of the drivers I have encountered.
But people are drawn to the dark side, aren't they? All of us, attracted by the bad stories rather than the uplifting ones.
So here's a vote for all the good times; all the uneventful rides, all the moments where nothing bad happened and the world was as it should be. Because they are far more common, far more regular, far more prosaic, than the ones that get talked about.
And that's good news. Cycling is good, and safe, and fun.
In fact, the problem with cycling is soundbites. The desire for a good story. The need to moan rather than to celebrate.
Cycling is Safe and Easy
I have cycled pretty regularly for two decades; my love affair with two wheels started in the nineties. Although I am not a particular rabid cyclist, I have in that time cycled thousands of miles. And I have been shouted at by drivers twice. Both occasions, by the by, in the last few months, within a mile of my house - which I suspect says more of the area I'm living in than of motorised road users in general.I have never been knocked off my bike by a motorist. And I have ridden on dual carriageways, with heavy traffic doing more than 70 miles per hour, in atrocious road conditions. I have ridden on country roads, with deep ditches, blind corners, narrow lanes. I have ridden in standing traffic, in cities where frustrated travellers wished for a speedy end to their journeys.
All without incident, without a story other than a Good Ride.
I have, in the main - in the vast, vast, vast majority of cases - been given plenty of room, and ample consideration for my own particular requirements as a two-wheeled fragile, slow road user.
People Like Horror Stories
But miles of happy cycling is not what people remember. Not what makes a good, memorable, recount-it, retweet-it, tell-it-down-the-pub story. Not what I write about, some of the time.People like bad news.
Visitors to the house last weekend commented on my recent tweets and updates on Facebook, where I had fallen into the trap of maligning a couple of specific incidences of unhappy motoring. Two occasions where my morning commute had been marred by stupid, thoughtless behaviour from drivers.
Two incidents in two thousand miles.
I'm not excusing these motorists, mark you; they acted dangerously, erratically, rudely. Morning grumpiness does not, will not ever excuse that. There is no license for unsafe conduct.
But my point is this: people (and I include you, dear readers, in that noun) do not remember the thousands of happy miles; the countless glorious, wonderful simple acts of kindness when motorists have hung back, have given me room, have been aware of me on my little two-wheeled conveyance, and have shown consideration. It is not the moments when I feel that I am flying that catches attention, not the moments when the world settles around me and I am in the zone, cycling the beautiful cadence, delighting in life.
It is the moments of madness, of darkness, of inconsiderate behaviour that are more attractive.
Yes, this is partly because I have not tweeted about those bright moments, the everyday rides. I have not declaimed at length at the necessary - and expected and welcome - decency of the huge majority of the drivers I have encountered.
But people are drawn to the dark side, aren't they? All of us, attracted by the bad stories rather than the uplifting ones.
So here's a vote for all the good times; all the uneventful rides, all the moments where nothing bad happened and the world was as it should be. Because they are far more common, far more regular, far more prosaic, than the ones that get talked about.
And that's good news. Cycling is good, and safe, and fun.
Monday, April 11, 2011
Cycling Firsts
Last week, several cycling firsts for the year: my first commute (home) without waterproof leggings. Then my first commute in spring gloves rather than winter gloves.
The first commute in shorts and short-sleeved jersey. Which included the first time up the Big Hill (on my singlespeed) without getting out of the saddle.
In other words, last week was Quite A Week.
Although the year is still young, spring is on her merry way, and cycling is getting easier, more pleasant, more fun as the weather gets warmer and the days get longer. And yes, as I get fitter.
The first commute in shorts and short-sleeved jersey. Which included the first time up the Big Hill (on my singlespeed) without getting out of the saddle.
In other words, last week was Quite A Week.
Although the year is still young, spring is on her merry way, and cycling is getting easier, more pleasant, more fun as the weather gets warmer and the days get longer. And yes, as I get fitter.
Monday, March 14, 2011
A New Bike
Last week, I commuted on my new bike for the first time.
It was a frosty morning, by the by, not so cold that I suffered brain freeze on the big downhill, but cold enough that my toes were tending towards numbness as I arrived at the office.
Picking a new bike is great fun, certainly; choosing the colour of the frame, the saddle, the bar tape. There's joy to be found in kitting out the bike, too, putting the new bits and pieces on it, arranging it just so. But it's not just the lure of the new, the shiny. It's also the thrill of excitement from meeting a new friend, of learning about their little quirks. Sure, there's always a certain amount of getting used to a new friend; the riding position being ever so slightly different, the pedals needing a bit of tweaking and set-up, the responsiveness of the steering and the brakes.
And there are the unanswered questions, too - particularly with a machine ordered over the Internet, unseen, unridden.
Will I like it? Should I have chosen something else? Was I crazy to pick a singlespeed bike for my commuter, on the Cycle2Work scheme? This is not a bike I can easily sell on if I don't like it - it's owned by my employer for at least 12 months. Am I be strong enough to ride my commute with just one gear?
One of my biggest worries was whether I'd picked the "right" gearing. Picking a singlespeed gearing is naturally, necessarily a compromise: a gear easy enough to get up the worst of the hills, a gear hard enough to make the flats and downhills manageable without spinning out (and if you hadn't considered the latter a possibility or a problem, try it the next time you're going down a decent hill; the old legs are reluctant to go beyond a certain speed).
In the evening: I will not claim I glided up the Big Uphill, but I did climb it without stopping and sweating too much. Sure, I had to get out of the saddle to get over the worst of the gradient, but I'd expected that. And at no point had I found the going so tough that I'd even been near considering stopping, slowing or - help! - getting off and pushing. No dismounts, no walking, no worries!
So I figure the gearing is about right.
And an unexpected benefit: because the gear is a touch easier than I might choose on another bike, because I can't change that gear, I spend more of the time spinning rather than grinding (on the flats, at least, where normally I would be pushing a bigger and bigger gear). This means that I can't go quite so fast, but it means that it feels easier. And, better still, it feels more fun! I spend more time in the easier cadence, working less hard, feeling stronger, more aerobic exercise.
I felt, in short, that I was flying more often than I normally do.
One thing I did notice: momentum is key. Because I have to work a little to get on top of the gear from a standing start, it means that I'm increasingly reluctant to stop. I need to plan my deceleration, looking farther down the road, reading the traffic. These are good skills to hone.
And I was smiling all the way there and back again.
It was a frosty morning, by the by, not so cold that I suffered brain freeze on the big downhill, but cold enough that my toes were tending towards numbness as I arrived at the office.
The Joys of a New Bike
There's a pleasure in riding a new bike, of course, especially one that has been a long time coming. I've wanted this bike for a year or so. I ordered it in December 2010. That's a lot of deferred pleasure.Picking a new bike is great fun, certainly; choosing the colour of the frame, the saddle, the bar tape. There's joy to be found in kitting out the bike, too, putting the new bits and pieces on it, arranging it just so. But it's not just the lure of the new, the shiny. It's also the thrill of excitement from meeting a new friend, of learning about their little quirks. Sure, there's always a certain amount of getting used to a new friend; the riding position being ever so slightly different, the pedals needing a bit of tweaking and set-up, the responsiveness of the steering and the brakes.
And there are the unanswered questions, too - particularly with a machine ordered over the Internet, unseen, unridden.
Will I like it? Should I have chosen something else? Was I crazy to pick a singlespeed bike for my commuter, on the Cycle2Work scheme? This is not a bike I can easily sell on if I don't like it - it's owned by my employer for at least 12 months. Am I be strong enough to ride my commute with just one gear?
One of my biggest worries was whether I'd picked the "right" gearing. Picking a singlespeed gearing is naturally, necessarily a compromise: a gear easy enough to get up the worst of the hills, a gear hard enough to make the flats and downhills manageable without spinning out (and if you hadn't considered the latter a possibility or a problem, try it the next time you're going down a decent hill; the old legs are reluctant to go beyond a certain speed).
The Early Verdict
After that first ride, I think I've got the gearing bang-on. On the flat, the gear felt pleasant - definitely spinning rather than grinding - but with just enough resistance that it was fun. After the morning ride I was pleased.In the evening: I will not claim I glided up the Big Uphill, but I did climb it without stopping and sweating too much. Sure, I had to get out of the saddle to get over the worst of the gradient, but I'd expected that. And at no point had I found the going so tough that I'd even been near considering stopping, slowing or - help! - getting off and pushing. No dismounts, no walking, no worries!
So I figure the gearing is about right.
And an unexpected benefit: because the gear is a touch easier than I might choose on another bike, because I can't change that gear, I spend more of the time spinning rather than grinding (on the flats, at least, where normally I would be pushing a bigger and bigger gear). This means that I can't go quite so fast, but it means that it feels easier. And, better still, it feels more fun! I spend more time in the easier cadence, working less hard, feeling stronger, more aerobic exercise.
I felt, in short, that I was flying more often than I normally do.
One thing I did notice: momentum is key. Because I have to work a little to get on top of the gear from a standing start, it means that I'm increasingly reluctant to stop. I need to plan my deceleration, looking farther down the road, reading the traffic. These are good skills to hone.
In Conclusion
The first ride with my new friend was great. The bike rides really well. Yes, the saddle needs raising a little, and the brake hoods - squat, chunky things - feel less comfortable in my hands than the Shimano integrated shifters I've used for the last 2000 miles. But that's a question of familiarity; they're comfy enough, and so is the bike - clearly the money spent on a bike fitting when I bought the Giant is still paying dividends.And I was smiling all the way there and back again.
Monday, February 28, 2011
How to Cycle More 2: Have a Routine
I'm aiming to cycling 2000 commuting miles in 2011, an average of two days a week. In order to achieve this, I've got to be committed, and crafty. Last week, I wrote about how being flexible helps me cycle more.
This week: flexibility is good, and so is routine.
Or, because "routine" sounds like a bind to some people, let's call it habit. Rhythm. Or, better yet, cadence.
There's a rhythm to cycle commuting the same two days a week.
Setting aside 2 days to cycle means I am mentally prepared to do it; I know it's coming. There's none of that "I'll do it tomorrow" unease that turns into full-blown panic at the end of the week, when I've not cycled and so I have to cycle and it's howling with wind, pelting down with rain and snow, icy and bleak. There's no joy to be had on days like that.
There's comfort in knowing that Tuesdays and Thursdays, I'll be cycling. I can structure my week around it. I can make plans.
On Monday I can get myself set for the week; bring clean clothes into the office for the days I cycle, buy my fruit and lunches for the week. On Friday, when the legs are tired and the spirit beleaguered from the working week, I can plan to drive home, bringing home whatever I need for the weekend. And Wednesday can be my time to run errands that require the car, or my contingency if Tuesday or Thursday isn't going to plan. My day of rest. Or even an extra cycle commuting day. I can be flexible with my routine.
Because flexibility is good, and flexibility built around a predictable routine; a routine that is adaptable - is great. And it means that I can cycle more reliably, more often, on more occasions - that's something very special.
Related articles:
This week: flexibility is good, and so is routine.
Or, because "routine" sounds like a bind to some people, let's call it habit. Rhythm. Or, better yet, cadence.
There's a rhythm to cycle commuting the same two days a week.
Setting aside 2 days to cycle means I am mentally prepared to do it; I know it's coming. There's none of that "I'll do it tomorrow" unease that turns into full-blown panic at the end of the week, when I've not cycled and so I have to cycle and it's howling with wind, pelting down with rain and snow, icy and bleak. There's no joy to be had on days like that.
There's comfort in knowing that Tuesdays and Thursdays, I'll be cycling. I can structure my week around it. I can make plans.
On Monday I can get myself set for the week; bring clean clothes into the office for the days I cycle, buy my fruit and lunches for the week. On Friday, when the legs are tired and the spirit beleaguered from the working week, I can plan to drive home, bringing home whatever I need for the weekend. And Wednesday can be my time to run errands that require the car, or my contingency if Tuesday or Thursday isn't going to plan. My day of rest. Or even an extra cycle commuting day. I can be flexible with my routine.
Because flexibility is good, and flexibility built around a predictable routine; a routine that is adaptable - is great. And it means that I can cycle more reliably, more often, on more occasions - that's something very special.
Related articles:
Monday, February 21, 2011
How to Cycle More: Be Flexible
In 2010, I rode just over a thousand commuting miles on my bike. This year (2011), I plan to double that. As my daily commute is 22 miles, this target means I'll be cycling to work an average of two days a week.
Of course, it's rarely as simple as simply picking a set couple of days and cycle commuting on those two days every week. Real life gets in the way of plans; sometimes I need to have access to a car. Perhaps I need to visit a client site, and it's just not feasible to do so on my bike. Maybe my wife has asked me to get some supplies, more than I can carry. Or, because I work in the countryside, I need to get into town to do some banking or other personal admin.
How to balance the need to fit these everyday tasks with the goal of cycle commuting twice a week?
The answer, I find, is flexibility. Being prepared to drive to work and cycle home one day, and the reverse the next day means I get the benefits of having the car at the office during the day, and cycling too. The "old 4-2-2-4" I call it, being the number of wheels on my commute, morning and evening, over two days.
This week is a case in point. I have a site visit, a lunch meeting, and some errands to run over the course of the week. If I stuck to my allotted cycle commuting days, I wouldn't be able to cycle at all. But by shifting when I cycle commute - driving in one day, then cycling home that evening; cycling in the next day and driving home the second evening - I ensure I've got access to the car when I need it, whilst meeting my cycling commitments.
In some respects, this flexibility is a variation of my tactic of removing excuses - I can't possibly cycle today, I've so much to do! - and also increases my opportunity to cycle as well as the likelihood of doing so. Which brings me ever closer to that 2000 mile, twice a week goal.
Of course, it's rarely as simple as simply picking a set couple of days and cycle commuting on those two days every week. Real life gets in the way of plans; sometimes I need to have access to a car. Perhaps I need to visit a client site, and it's just not feasible to do so on my bike. Maybe my wife has asked me to get some supplies, more than I can carry. Or, because I work in the countryside, I need to get into town to do some banking or other personal admin.
How to balance the need to fit these everyday tasks with the goal of cycle commuting twice a week?
The answer, I find, is flexibility. Being prepared to drive to work and cycle home one day, and the reverse the next day means I get the benefits of having the car at the office during the day, and cycling too. The "old 4-2-2-4" I call it, being the number of wheels on my commute, morning and evening, over two days.
This week is a case in point. I have a site visit, a lunch meeting, and some errands to run over the course of the week. If I stuck to my allotted cycle commuting days, I wouldn't be able to cycle at all. But by shifting when I cycle commute - driving in one day, then cycling home that evening; cycling in the next day and driving home the second evening - I ensure I've got access to the car when I need it, whilst meeting my cycling commitments.
In some respects, this flexibility is a variation of my tactic of removing excuses - I can't possibly cycle today, I've so much to do! - and also increases my opportunity to cycle as well as the likelihood of doing so. Which brings me ever closer to that 2000 mile, twice a week goal.
Monday, February 14, 2011
Cycling Because I Choose To
Some days I don't cycle to work and wish I had. Some days I commute on my bike and wish I hadn't.
Most days, of course, it's somewhere in between; that happy combination of cycling and being glad that I did. Or - and this is important too - choosing not to cycle and being comfortable with the reasons for that decision.
Last week, the weather forecast for a particular morning had been pretty straightforward: it was going to be wet. The forecast map showed great blue swathes of rain all over my commuting route, right around the time I'd be out and about.
But forewarned is forearmed. I had time to prepare mentally, to gird my loins as it were. And my wet weather gear is always at hand, so in the morning I didn't delay in getting dressed up and saddled up. And you know what? As usual, the weather wasn't so bad, certainly not as bad as my imagination and fears might have made it. The rain was more like a lazy drizzle; and infrequent at that, very light rather than that persistent penetrating stuff. The ride was, in short, straightforward.
Even better, most of the ride was gloriously easy; I was nipping at the heels of that beautiful cadence, zipping along. Smiling. When the voices are trying to talk me out of cycling, I forget the pleasure of cycling in the morning, the simple joy of being out in the fresh air rather than sitting in a metal box. But when I'm out on my bike I remember that there's a real satisfaction in ignoring the voices and cycling.
A good morning ride, then. I was happy to have cycled.
On the way home, the weather was less pleasant. The rain was heavier, the wind less favourable, veering from a sidewind to a headwind that stripped away my speed and sapped my energy.
But I was homeward bound, and the homeward journey is always easier than the outward. The certain knowledge of a warm house and warmer shower, of dry clothes and maybe a gin and tonic, buoyed me up. Besides, what were my choices now? I had to get home, and cycling was the only way.
And I was happy to be cycling. Whenever the conditions are a little bit adverse, I'm always pleased and proud that I made the decision to cycle. Pleased that I ignored the doubting voices, the persuasive little whispers that suggest I leave the bike and use the car. On this occasion, the weather had tried to talk me out of cycling and lost. Oh, there was a little bit of that wouldn't it be nice if it was dry and sunny but I was cycling and glad of it.
In some respects, a ride in bad weather is better than a sunny ride in glorious weather. To have overcome a little adversity, a little struggle, is uplifting. I arrived home wet, but unbowed. Quietly triumphant. Happy.
And that's wonderful.
When the choice is not to cycle and risk wishing that I had, or to cycle and risk wishing I hadn't, it's a simple decision. Wet or dry, windy or still, I'd choose to cycle.
Because here's the thing: unless I actually get on my bike and cycle, I'll only ever be wishing that I had. And more often - far more, actually - I cycle and am glad that I did.
Most days, of course, it's somewhere in between; that happy combination of cycling and being glad that I did. Or - and this is important too - choosing not to cycle and being comfortable with the reasons for that decision.
Last week, the weather forecast for a particular morning had been pretty straightforward: it was going to be wet. The forecast map showed great blue swathes of rain all over my commuting route, right around the time I'd be out and about.
But forewarned is forearmed. I had time to prepare mentally, to gird my loins as it were. And my wet weather gear is always at hand, so in the morning I didn't delay in getting dressed up and saddled up. And you know what? As usual, the weather wasn't so bad, certainly not as bad as my imagination and fears might have made it. The rain was more like a lazy drizzle; and infrequent at that, very light rather than that persistent penetrating stuff. The ride was, in short, straightforward.
Even better, most of the ride was gloriously easy; I was nipping at the heels of that beautiful cadence, zipping along. Smiling. When the voices are trying to talk me out of cycling, I forget the pleasure of cycling in the morning, the simple joy of being out in the fresh air rather than sitting in a metal box. But when I'm out on my bike I remember that there's a real satisfaction in ignoring the voices and cycling.
A good morning ride, then. I was happy to have cycled.
On the way home, the weather was less pleasant. The rain was heavier, the wind less favourable, veering from a sidewind to a headwind that stripped away my speed and sapped my energy.
But I was homeward bound, and the homeward journey is always easier than the outward. The certain knowledge of a warm house and warmer shower, of dry clothes and maybe a gin and tonic, buoyed me up. Besides, what were my choices now? I had to get home, and cycling was the only way.
And I was happy to be cycling. Whenever the conditions are a little bit adverse, I'm always pleased and proud that I made the decision to cycle. Pleased that I ignored the doubting voices, the persuasive little whispers that suggest I leave the bike and use the car. On this occasion, the weather had tried to talk me out of cycling and lost. Oh, there was a little bit of that wouldn't it be nice if it was dry and sunny but I was cycling and glad of it.
In some respects, a ride in bad weather is better than a sunny ride in glorious weather. To have overcome a little adversity, a little struggle, is uplifting. I arrived home wet, but unbowed. Quietly triumphant. Happy.
And that's wonderful.
When the choice is not to cycle and risk wishing that I had, or to cycle and risk wishing I hadn't, it's a simple decision. Wet or dry, windy or still, I'd choose to cycle.
Because here's the thing: unless I actually get on my bike and cycle, I'll only ever be wishing that I had. And more often - far more, actually - I cycle and am glad that I did.
Monday, February 7, 2011
My Commute
One of the greatest factors on the choice of bike, commuting clothing, lights and so on, is the commute itself; how long it is, how much of it is on rural roads, without streetlights, or in a town. I thought I'd share a bit about my commute, and the reasons I've made some of the choices I have for lights, clothing, bike and so on.
My commute is about 11 miles long, the majority of it (about 8 miles) on unlit country roads where the speed limit is 60mph, interspersed with brief stretches through small towns and villages along the way. In the urban areas the speed limit is 30mph and there are streetlights every 50 metres or so. Barring occasional roadworks, there are no traffic lights on any of my route; I rarely have to come to a complete stop.
There's pretty much only one route I can take to and from the office, without adding significant extra mileage. So there's not a lot of variety in my route (so it's great that the rural scenery is always changing - I see something new every day). There are also very limited options for public transport. If I have a serious mechanical, then it's a question of limping home or calling for backup.
The first mile and a half is mostly downhill, in town, and lit, at 30mph. Obviously, this means that on the way home, the last stretch is pretty much all uphill. But at least I'm nearly home by then!
The next three miles are unlit, country roads, 60mph speed limit, with 4 foot ditches on either side of the road. When it's dark, I want very good lights for this part of the ride. I want to be seen, and I want to be able to see.
After about half a mile straight through a little town, I'm back into lanes between fields and hedgerows once more. Now my ride takes me along a bridlepath that runs beside a dual carriageway; it's an unlit stretch, but it's pretty much traffic free (the dual carriageway hidden by a wooden fence). At the far end, it's a short, sharp climb up the bridge over the dual carriageway where I sometimes stop to admire the sun rising (or setting) over the water parks and lakes. Then down the other side and into another village where I rejoin the main road.
I'm over halfway there now.
Barely a tenth of a mile of streetlights, houses and 30mph before it's back onto country roads and another mile and a half on unlit rural roads. After another mile of 30mph lit roads through yet another small Cotswolds village, all yellow stone and pretty cottages, it's back to country roads alongside fields for the last couple of miles to the office.
The elevation of my commute is shown in the image below. The descent over the first mile and a half is a nice introduction to the ride, then except for the couple of lumps towards the end (around mile 10) the ride is pretty flat (which makes it ideal for a single speed bike).
I've got little LED lights on my helmet too, for that added visibility. Lights in unexpected places tend to make road users and drivers look twice, which I figure is a good thing.
For the urban stretches, as brief as they are, I'm sometimes cycling in traffic, and I have a little bar end mirror that gives me that bit extra information about my fellow road users, without having to turn my head continually.
My office has shower facilities and our dress code is smart casual. I've got room to store shirts and suits for the week if I need to. So I can ride in cycling gear - warm and weatherproof for those unexpected downpours - and know that I've got clean, dry clothes waiting for me at the end of the ride.
All the distance and elevation information provided by the excellent Gmaps Pedometer website.
Related articles:
My commute is about 11 miles long, the majority of it (about 8 miles) on unlit country roads where the speed limit is 60mph, interspersed with brief stretches through small towns and villages along the way. In the urban areas the speed limit is 30mph and there are streetlights every 50 metres or so. Barring occasional roadworks, there are no traffic lights on any of my route; I rarely have to come to a complete stop.
There's pretty much only one route I can take to and from the office, without adding significant extra mileage. So there's not a lot of variety in my route (so it's great that the rural scenery is always changing - I see something new every day). There are also very limited options for public transport. If I have a serious mechanical, then it's a question of limping home or calling for backup.
Commute Details
The first mile and a half is mostly downhill, in town, and lit, at 30mph. Obviously, this means that on the way home, the last stretch is pretty much all uphill. But at least I'm nearly home by then!
The next three miles are unlit, country roads, 60mph speed limit, with 4 foot ditches on either side of the road. When it's dark, I want very good lights for this part of the ride. I want to be seen, and I want to be able to see.
After about half a mile straight through a little town, I'm back into lanes between fields and hedgerows once more. Now my ride takes me along a bridlepath that runs beside a dual carriageway; it's an unlit stretch, but it's pretty much traffic free (the dual carriageway hidden by a wooden fence). At the far end, it's a short, sharp climb up the bridge over the dual carriageway where I sometimes stop to admire the sun rising (or setting) over the water parks and lakes. Then down the other side and into another village where I rejoin the main road.
I'm over halfway there now.
Barely a tenth of a mile of streetlights, houses and 30mph before it's back onto country roads and another mile and a half on unlit rural roads. After another mile of 30mph lit roads through yet another small Cotswolds village, all yellow stone and pretty cottages, it's back to country roads alongside fields for the last couple of miles to the office.
Elevation
The elevation of my commute is shown in the image below. The descent over the first mile and a half is a nice introduction to the ride, then except for the couple of lumps towards the end (around mile 10) the ride is pretty flat (which makes it ideal for a single speed bike).
Lights for Cycle Commuting
Because so much of my daily ride(more than 8 of the 11 miles) is on rural roads where the speed limit is 60mph, I want good lights that enable me to see where I'm going. My primary light has a good beam that lights up the road sufficiently far ahead so that I can avoid potholes and major obstacles. Of course, I also want to be seen, so I've got a secondary light that I usually run flashing, and I've got reflective patches on my jacket, gloves, pedals and frame. Research has shown that reflectors are most effective on moving parts, such as ankles so reflectors on the pedals are a good choice. In the UK, bikes are supposed to be sold with reflectors on the pedals, and I've got some inserts for my SPD clipless pedals that have reflectors front and back.I've got little LED lights on my helmet too, for that added visibility. Lights in unexpected places tend to make road users and drivers look twice, which I figure is a good thing.
Extras
For the urban stretches, as brief as they are, I'm sometimes cycling in traffic, and I have a little bar end mirror that gives me that bit extra information about my fellow road users, without having to turn my head continually.
Clothing for my Commmute
My office has shower facilities and our dress code is smart casual. I've got room to store shirts and suits for the week if I need to. So I can ride in cycling gear - warm and weatherproof for those unexpected downpours - and know that I've got clean, dry clothes waiting for me at the end of the ride.
All the distance and elevation information provided by the excellent Gmaps Pedometer website.
Related articles:
Monday, January 31, 2011
The Pleasures of Winter Cycling (and my Winter Soundtrack)
Cycling in Winter Has its Own Pleasures
It's easy to say that cycling is more fun when the weather conditions are right, particularly during the warmer seasons in the middle of the year. But there's something special about the still, clear mornings at this time of year, when the sky is red before the day dawns properly and the cold gives a tingling crispness to the air.The pace of the seasons is more obvious now, with the dawn and dusk shifting gradually about my regular commuting times. As the days get a little longer, the ride home becomes a little lighter each time, the twilight gloom gathering a little later in the ride, a little closer to home. It's nice to have this connection with the seasons, to see the world changing day by day, revealing different faces during the morning and evening ride. Oh, I love the regularity of the summer commute, all daylight and green trees. But during winter my rides are more variable, so much more interesting.
Last week, on the way home, about half an hour before sunset, the mist was just starting to rise on the fields. About waist-high when I left, as I moved through the artificial lakes and flooded gravel pits of the Cotswold Water Parks, through the water meadows, the mist gathered and rose. By the time I was on the last couple of miles before home, swathes of it were spilling across the road, twice the height of a man.
And behind it all, the yellowing sun making silhouettes of trees and church steeples. Moody, dramatic. Wonderful.
And it's not only me: over at The Trusty Steed, Girl and Steed described her own Winter Wonderland this week.
My Winter Commute Soundtrack
I've been putting the finishing touches to my Winter Soundtrack. It's always interesting to trial the music that plays so well in the car, and find that it just doesn't work in the noisy environment of the bike ride.There's some lovely stuff by Tinie Tempah that's got a good thumping high-BPM heart rate-raising quality to it, so that's staying on the playlist. But some of the Nick Cave songs don't play so well; moody and mysterious they might be, but they're not quite right for the bike. Similarly, some of the Dizzee Rascal tracks that I thought might be fun aren't appropriate. Dizzee spits so fast that it's lost in the rush of wind and wheels.
Once the final list is confirmed, I'll share it.
Monday, January 17, 2011
Puncture Repair
Puncture Repair Then and Now: A Personal History
I remember my father showing me how to mend a punctured inner tube, one sunny afternoon at our old house. He got out the dessert spoons (which had a little lip on the handle, perfect for levering tyre off wheel rim) and a stubby yellow crayon to mark the puncture once found. A washing-up bowl half-filled with water stood ready to reveal the hole, spewing bubbles into the cool water. At hand: the patches, their funny rubbery texture; a scrap of sandpaper to roughen the tube so that the patch would stick; the patch glue in its wrinkly little tube; the little block of French chalk with its own tiny grater.There was something arcane and mysterious about the process. The pleasure of seeing the little trail of bubbles marking the problem. The question of why did the patch adhesive, unlike another glue I'd ever used, need to be allowed to dry before it would stick? And the wonder of grating the French chalk onto the excess adhesive to stop it sticking to the tyre wall. I loved it.
At that time I liked changing an inner tube; enjoyed knowing how to fix a puncture. Years later, out on day rides, when hesitant friends had punctures, I took great delight in swooping in and plucking the thorn from their tyres, patching or changing their inner tube.
Until, of course, I had my first puncture one cold, wet, dark evening on the way home. Under these conditions puncture repair is neither glamorous, nor fun. It's a case of get on with it, get it sorted, and get home.
My Puncture Repair Kit for Commuting
On any ride, my puncture repair kit always comes with me; it lives in a little Topeak saddle pack that I can swap between bikes. I want everything to be there so I don't have to think about it in the morning. I've got tyre levers, a spare tube, and some self-adhesive patches (currently the Park Tools Super Patch [at Wiggle or Evans Cycles]). My shock pump (the excellent Crank Brothers Power Pump Alloy [at Wiggle or Chain Reaction Cycles]) lives on the frame or under the saddle bag.If I have a puncture, I'll just swap out the inner tube; I rip out the offending tube, check the tyre for the spike, and fit the new tube. It's the work of a few minutes. Job done.
If I have another puncture, it's time for the self-adhesive patches. Whilst I might miss the French chalk, these are great little things; just peel off the backing paper and apply. These don't need sanding or gluing and chalk (which is nice and all, but nice on a sunny day in the garden, not nice on a dark, wet evening by the roadside); they just stick. Again, the work of a few moments, plus whatever time I allow myself to swear at my misfortune.
Oh, I know there are kinds of treatments available to go inside the tubes; goo that self-seals any puncture; tiny little carbon dioxide inflators that will get a tyre up to pressure in a flash. But my rides aren't races. I can spare a few minutes.
Punctures Happen. But Not Often
The fear of punctures is, I suspect, a big reason why people don't ride. The inconvenience, the hassle of getting caught out in bad weather, the dirty fuss of fixing a puncture. Yes, punctures are a part of cycling; they do and will happen.But I don't let fear of punctures stop me from riding. I'm prepared; my puncture repair kit is always at hand. I've had one puncture in thousands of miles of cycling. That's a pretty small price to pay.
Monday, January 10, 2011
The First Ride of 2011
My cycling year has started well: last Wednesday I commuted by bike for the first time in 2011.
Happily, the first commute of the new year turned out to be a beautiful bike ride. An hour before dawn, the eastern sky was already light, scored with scarlet contrails like recent cat scratches. Later, closer to sunrise, the scratches that remained were inlaid with bright gold. Above them, long clouds lay like half-burned logs, the upper edge covered in ash, the lower glowing dully, ember-red. Dawn itself brought a more orange light, mellowing as the sun rose slowly over the horizon.
The morning was still, with perhaps a slight tailwind that made for swift progress. For much of the ride I was right on the verge of that beautiful cadence that is as close to flying as cycling can get - legs turning the pedals easily, gladly.
After the snow and ice of December, the enforced absence from cycling, this ride was the perfect start to the year. Yes, there will be other rides that are cold and wet and windy, but I will have the memory of that morning, of that first ride. And I will have the satisfaction of knowing that I was out in the first week of the year. An early start to my cycling this year, then; a good start.
I've a fair way to go to reach my target of 2000 cycle commuting miles in 2011 (another 1978, to be precise), but a journey of two thousand miles starts with a single pedal stroke, to paraphrase Lao Tzu. And my journey has begun.
Related articles:
Happily, the first commute of the new year turned out to be a beautiful bike ride. An hour before dawn, the eastern sky was already light, scored with scarlet contrails like recent cat scratches. Later, closer to sunrise, the scratches that remained were inlaid with bright gold. Above them, long clouds lay like half-burned logs, the upper edge covered in ash, the lower glowing dully, ember-red. Dawn itself brought a more orange light, mellowing as the sun rose slowly over the horizon.
The morning was still, with perhaps a slight tailwind that made for swift progress. For much of the ride I was right on the verge of that beautiful cadence that is as close to flying as cycling can get - legs turning the pedals easily, gladly.
After the snow and ice of December, the enforced absence from cycling, this ride was the perfect start to the year. Yes, there will be other rides that are cold and wet and windy, but I will have the memory of that morning, of that first ride. And I will have the satisfaction of knowing that I was out in the first week of the year. An early start to my cycling this year, then; a good start.
I've a fair way to go to reach my target of 2000 cycle commuting miles in 2011 (another 1978, to be precise), but a journey of two thousand miles starts with a single pedal stroke, to paraphrase Lao Tzu. And my journey has begun.
Related articles:
Monday, January 3, 2011
Christmas Gifts for Cyclists
There's a long-running joke about giving and receiving socks for Christmas. This year, to pre-empt the joke, I asked for cycling socks. Happily, I got exactly what I asked for.
Endura Coolmax Race Socks [at Chain Reaction Cycles]
I chose these blue socks as they go nicely with my current preferred colour scheme. Although they claim that one size fits all, these are a teensy bit snug for my not-very-large size 8 feet. I suppose they'll stretch with use. And they are very comfortable.
Defeet Aireator Worldchamp Socks [at Chain Reaction Cycles] and SockGuy Elite 4" Socks (in World Champion White) [at Chain Reaction Cycles]
World Champion socks, with the rainbow stripes that the cycling world champion wears!
I'm a long, long way from being a world champion, but I love these socks.
Do these socks make me a better cyclist, make my commute easier? Hardly.
Do they make me smile, lift my spirit, make me feel that fraction more inclined to cycle on those cold, dark mornings? Absolutely! And some mornings the difference between talking myself out of cycle commuting, and getting on with it, might be as small as a pair of socks.
They're already a regular feature in my commuting wardrobe.
Oh! And it turns out I am cool enough to wear Twin Six.
Related articles:
Endura Coolmax Race Socks [at Chain Reaction Cycles]
I chose these blue socks as they go nicely with my current preferred colour scheme. Although they claim that one size fits all, these are a teensy bit snug for my not-very-large size 8 feet. I suppose they'll stretch with use. And they are very comfortable.
Defeet Aireator Worldchamp Socks [at Chain Reaction Cycles] and SockGuy Elite 4" Socks (in World Champion White) [at Chain Reaction Cycles]
World Champion socks, with the rainbow stripes that the cycling world champion wears!
I'm a long, long way from being a world champion, but I love these socks.
Do these socks make me a better cyclist, make my commute easier? Hardly.
Do they make me smile, lift my spirit, make me feel that fraction more inclined to cycle on those cold, dark mornings? Absolutely! And some mornings the difference between talking myself out of cycle commuting, and getting on with it, might be as small as a pair of socks.
They're already a regular feature in my commuting wardrobe.
Oh! And it turns out I am cool enough to wear Twin Six.
 |
| Available in the UK from Always Riding, hurrah! |
Related articles:
Monday, December 27, 2010
My Cycling Year: 2010
Well the numbers are in, and I have commuted 1015 miles on my bike this year.
The month-on-month breakdown is as follows:
Note: My commute is around 11 miles long, but at the start of the year I was doing a 12 mile route that included a half mile stretch on a busy dual carriageway. People told me I was crazy to do it, although I had no problems. That said, I am much happier with the shorter, quieter route on an almost-traffic-free bridleway.
June was less good. My son had just been born, and I had two weeks of paternity leave where I wasn't commuting at all. In the second half of the month, and into July, I decided that it was more important to be able to get home quickly to support my wife than it was to cycle commute. I kind of feel that's closer to an excuse than a reason, but I'm satisfied with my choice.
I'm surprised that September turned out to be the month with the biggest number of miles. I suspect I had done some arithmetic and realised that unless I got on with it, I wasn't going to make my target of the big 1000.
In December, a combination of annual leave and heavy snowfall meant that I didn't cycle at all; the office was closed for three days because of the snow. I missed it.
On the other hand, it's a long way from an epic achievement.
In all, I've cycle commuted 47.5 times (the half comes from driving in and cycling home, or vice versa, a pleasant compromise between all-out bike commuting and all-out driving). On average, that's only about once a week, allowing for annual leave and time away from the office. In other words around 20-25% of my annual commuting mileage was on my bike. That's not bad, but it's still a minority; my goal is to cycle commute the majority of the time.
Oh, I could waste time justifying why I didn't cycle more, or I could celebrate the fact that, on average, one day a week, I didn't use my car. One day a week, I was out in the world, under the sky, feeling the wind in my face. One day a week I bookended my working day with exercise; my blood pumping, my legs moving. Travelling at a more gentle pace, I had the time to enjoy sunrises and sunsets. I chased those fleeting moments when everything came together and I was In The Zone, cycling the beautiful cadence.
That's more than I could have said the year before. That's enough, for 2010 at least.
In 2011, my goal is to double the number of times I cycle commute. I'm expecting it to be at least twice the fun.
The month-on-month breakdown is as follows:
| January | 72 miles (3 times) |
| February | 72 miles (3 times) |
| March | 134 miles (6 times) |
| April | 121 miles (5.5 times) |
| May | 132 miles (6 times) |
| June | 0 miles |
| July | 66 miles (3 times) |
| August | 88 miles (4 times) |
| September | 154 miles (7 times) |
| October | 110 miles (5 times) |
| November | 66 miles (3 times) |
| December | 0 miles |
| Total | 1015 miles |
Note: My commute is around 11 miles long, but at the start of the year I was doing a 12 mile route that included a half mile stretch on a busy dual carriageway. People told me I was crazy to do it, although I had no problems. That said, I am much happier with the shorter, quieter route on an almost-traffic-free bridleway.
Analysis
April was a good month; I'm surprised I managed to cycle commute as much as I did, not least because I was on Jury service for nearly 2 weeks, and not cycling into the office during that time.June was less good. My son had just been born, and I had two weeks of paternity leave where I wasn't commuting at all. In the second half of the month, and into July, I decided that it was more important to be able to get home quickly to support my wife than it was to cycle commute. I kind of feel that's closer to an excuse than a reason, but I'm satisfied with my choice.
I'm surprised that September turned out to be the month with the biggest number of miles. I suspect I had done some arithmetic and realised that unless I got on with it, I wasn't going to make my target of the big 1000.
In December, a combination of annual leave and heavy snowfall meant that I didn't cycle at all; the office was closed for three days because of the snow. I missed it.
Final thoughts
On balance, I'm well pleased; my target was to complete 1000 miles on the bike. As one friend pointed out, that's the length of the End-to-End of the British Isles, from Land's End to John O'Groats. It's a nice, round number, a satisfying number.On the other hand, it's a long way from an epic achievement.
In all, I've cycle commuted 47.5 times (the half comes from driving in and cycling home, or vice versa, a pleasant compromise between all-out bike commuting and all-out driving). On average, that's only about once a week, allowing for annual leave and time away from the office. In other words around 20-25% of my annual commuting mileage was on my bike. That's not bad, but it's still a minority; my goal is to cycle commute the majority of the time.
Oh, I could waste time justifying why I didn't cycle more, or I could celebrate the fact that, on average, one day a week, I didn't use my car. One day a week, I was out in the world, under the sky, feeling the wind in my face. One day a week I bookended my working day with exercise; my blood pumping, my legs moving. Travelling at a more gentle pace, I had the time to enjoy sunrises and sunsets. I chased those fleeting moments when everything came together and I was In The Zone, cycling the beautiful cadence.
That's more than I could have said the year before. That's enough, for 2010 at least.
In 2011, my goal is to double the number of times I cycle commute. I'm expecting it to be at least twice the fun.
Monday, December 20, 2010
The Last Ride of 2010
...has been and gone. With this snow, and my Christmas plans, it seems unlikely I'll be doing any more cycling in 2010.
Oh, I'm not ruling out the chance of a fun ride or two - a cheeky Boxing Day pootle, perhaps - but unless there's a dramatic and impressive thaw, there's currently little chance of a cycle commute this month.
We've not had the snow that bad here in semi-rural Wiltshire, but the 4 or 5 inches on quieter country roads is enough to make cycling a hazard - I know from first hand experience at the start of the year just what the roads are like in the snow and ice.
That's not to say I wouldn't have given it a try as I miss cycling more and more. Yes, if the mountain bike had a chain, I might have considered cycling last Friday. But frankly, I'm glad I didn't have the chance.
I might even have considered cycling today. But the conditions, whilst passable now, will not be passable later.
It's a strange, sad knowledge. I miss it already, having had a week away on holiday, and not cycled for what seems like ages.
Oh, I'm not ruling out the chance of a fun ride or two - a cheeky Boxing Day pootle, perhaps - but unless there's a dramatic and impressive thaw, there's currently little chance of a cycle commute this month.
We've not had the snow that bad here in semi-rural Wiltshire, but the 4 or 5 inches on quieter country roads is enough to make cycling a hazard - I know from first hand experience at the start of the year just what the roads are like in the snow and ice.
That's not to say I wouldn't have given it a try as I miss cycling more and more. Yes, if the mountain bike had a chain, I might have considered cycling last Friday. But frankly, I'm glad I didn't have the chance.
I might even have considered cycling today. But the conditions, whilst passable now, will not be passable later.
Monday, December 13, 2010
Cycle2Work: Choosing a bike to commute on
My company has (finally, after several months of waiting) introduced a Cycle2Work scheme through CycleScheme, and I have ordered a new bike.
Cycle2Work is a scheme introduced by the UK Government to encourage bike usage in employees; effectively the company buys the bike and leases it to the employee (that's me!) over a fixed term. At the end of the lease period, the bike can be bought for "a nominal sum". From the employee's point of view, it's kind of like a cheap loan (except the company owns the bike until the end of the scheme). The lease payments are taken direct from salary, before tax and national insurance are charged. This arrangement reduces the tax and national insurance paid by the employee, and means that ultimately the bike is cheaper than it would be to buy directly. Up to £1000 can be spent on a bike and other equipment (helmet, lights etc).
The scheme has more subtleties and complexities than I've included above, but the fact of it is getting a new bike for less money.
I'm very excited.
The Giant SCR2 that I've been using for my commuting and other riding for a couple of years cost me £550 brand new (from the excellent AW Cycles). The equivalent bike these days is the Giant Defy 2, retailing at around £800. In other words, the bike that I can buy with the £1000 from the Scheme is not much better than the bike I already own.
So I chose the Pompino, a singlespeed/fixed commuter that I've lusted after for a long time. The frame is steel so is robust for the month-in, month-out mileage. And it's singlespeed so doesn't have any complex shifters or mechanisms to get attacked by the salty winter roads. It takes wide tyres for grip in the horrible weather and has clearance for mudguards. It's a thing of beauty.
Well, a singlespeed bike is a pared-down machine, untroubled by shifters and mechanisms and all the moving parts and cables needed for a multi-geared bike. That ought to make maintenance easier - there are fewer parts to maintain. And it's somehow a little purer; the connection between man and machine is a little more direct, more immediate. I like that.
The Pompino can run either fixedwheel or freewheel. Riding fixed means pedalling whenever the bike is in motion. It promotes a smooth pedalling style - you've probably seen those track riders tearing 'round the velodrome in the Olympics. Done properly, fixed wheel riding requires (and develops!) legs of steel. When riding freewheel the rider can at least stop pedalling without being thrown over the handlebars. In either case the single gear means that every ride is a combination of high-resistance muscle building (when climbing hills) and low-resistance aerobic exercise (when descending). And a lot of fun.
A fixedwheel bike is theoretically less attractive to thieves, too. Mostly likely they'll fall off horribly if they try and ride off on one.
Of course, just one gear means choosing the right gear; the right balance between easy enough for the hills, and hard enough for the flat. Choosing the gear ratio was challenging, and I'll keep you posted on how successful my choice was when the bike arrives. I've already picked the bike, tweaked the components and filed the forms.
Now it's just a case of waiting until all the paperwork has been done and my new bike arrives.
Cycle2Work is a scheme introduced by the UK Government to encourage bike usage in employees; effectively the company buys the bike and leases it to the employee (that's me!) over a fixed term. At the end of the lease period, the bike can be bought for "a nominal sum". From the employee's point of view, it's kind of like a cheap loan (except the company owns the bike until the end of the scheme). The lease payments are taken direct from salary, before tax and national insurance are charged. This arrangement reduces the tax and national insurance paid by the employee, and means that ultimately the bike is cheaper than it would be to buy directly. Up to £1000 can be spent on a bike and other equipment (helmet, lights etc).
The scheme has more subtleties and complexities than I've included above, but the fact of it is getting a new bike for less money.
A bike for cycle commuting
I've chosen an On-One Pompino Road Sport, a steel-framed singlespeed/fixedwheel bike made by a British company based in my native Yorkshire.
The Giant SCR2 that I've been using for my commuting and other riding for a couple of years cost me £550 brand new (from the excellent AW Cycles). The equivalent bike these days is the Giant Defy 2, retailing at around £800. In other words, the bike that I can buy with the £1000 from the Scheme is not much better than the bike I already own.
So I chose the Pompino, a singlespeed/fixed commuter that I've lusted after for a long time. The frame is steel so is robust for the month-in, month-out mileage. And it's singlespeed so doesn't have any complex shifters or mechanisms to get attacked by the salty winter roads. It takes wide tyres for grip in the horrible weather and has clearance for mudguards. It's a thing of beauty.
Singlespeed: one gear
The Pompino has one gear. That's right, just the one gear. In a time when people are buying bikes with more and more gears, why would anyone go the other way and buy a bike with fewer gears? Worse, why would someone buy a fixedwheel bike, where the pedals turn at the same time as the back wheel? Just like those bikes the track riders use, you can't stop pedalling whilst the bike is in motion.Well, a singlespeed bike is a pared-down machine, untroubled by shifters and mechanisms and all the moving parts and cables needed for a multi-geared bike. That ought to make maintenance easier - there are fewer parts to maintain. And it's somehow a little purer; the connection between man and machine is a little more direct, more immediate. I like that.
The Pompino can run either fixedwheel or freewheel. Riding fixed means pedalling whenever the bike is in motion. It promotes a smooth pedalling style - you've probably seen those track riders tearing 'round the velodrome in the Olympics. Done properly, fixed wheel riding requires (and develops!) legs of steel. When riding freewheel the rider can at least stop pedalling without being thrown over the handlebars. In either case the single gear means that every ride is a combination of high-resistance muscle building (when climbing hills) and low-resistance aerobic exercise (when descending). And a lot of fun.
A fixedwheel bike is theoretically less attractive to thieves, too. Mostly likely they'll fall off horribly if they try and ride off on one.
Of course, just one gear means choosing the right gear; the right balance between easy enough for the hills, and hard enough for the flat. Choosing the gear ratio was challenging, and I'll keep you posted on how successful my choice was when the bike arrives. I've already picked the bike, tweaked the components and filed the forms.
Now it's just a case of waiting until all the paperwork has been done and my new bike arrives.
Monday, December 6, 2010
OBEs for cyclists: music for cycling
Car drivers can keep their ICE. Cyclists have OBEs.
On-Bike Entertainment systems, that is. A means of listening to music whilst on the wheel.
I've seen some impressive systems, including a full boogie-box with massive speaker, on one particular ride from London to Brighton. But for the commuter, something smaller, more discrete, and lighter is appropriate.
My current OBE is a Sony NWZ-8142F paired with a set of Philips sport earphones.
The Sony is a great little device; it's small, lightweight, and doubles as a USB drive. So I can take files to and from the office, if I ever need to, and charge it using any USB port. Putting music on it is as simple as dragging and dropping. There's also an FM radio, which I'll admit I've never used.
It's no longer available, in the way of consumer electronics, but the current Sony NWZB153 is similar.
The Philips earphones have that little ear hook that goes behind each ear and helps keep the earphones in place. I have slightly strangely shaped ears and struggle to keep regular earphones in place so sport-type earphones are de rigueur for me.
At a push, I could use my phone, but it's easier to tuck the Sony into my sleeve (even using an elastic band to keep it in place) or arm warmers for cable management.
The buttons of the Sony are a tiny bit small, and definitely no use when wearing gloves. But an OBE should be a set-and-forget; it's not for fiddling with once in the saddle. No, set it up and get on with the ride. And never never never fiddle with your OBE on a climb.
The soundtrack to my summer commute is currently being revised for the cooler, darker months.
What's on your OBE? Which tunes are getting you going in the winter mornings? Leave a comment below.
On-Bike Entertainment systems, that is. A means of listening to music whilst on the wheel.
I've seen some impressive systems, including a full boogie-box with massive speaker, on one particular ride from London to Brighton. But for the commuter, something smaller, more discrete, and lighter is appropriate.
My current OBE is a Sony NWZ-8142F paired with a set of Philips sport earphones.
The Sony is a great little device; it's small, lightweight, and doubles as a USB drive. So I can take files to and from the office, if I ever need to, and charge it using any USB port. Putting music on it is as simple as dragging and dropping. There's also an FM radio, which I'll admit I've never used.
It's no longer available, in the way of consumer electronics, but the current Sony NWZB153 is similar.
The Philips earphones have that little ear hook that goes behind each ear and helps keep the earphones in place. I have slightly strangely shaped ears and struggle to keep regular earphones in place so sport-type earphones are de rigueur for me.
At a push, I could use my phone, but it's easier to tuck the Sony into my sleeve (even using an elastic band to keep it in place) or arm warmers for cable management.
The buttons of the Sony are a tiny bit small, and definitely no use when wearing gloves. But an OBE should be a set-and-forget; it's not for fiddling with once in the saddle. No, set it up and get on with the ride. And never never never fiddle with your OBE on a climb.
Music for OBEs
Fundamentally, it's whatever works for you and your riding style. In the morning I favour something with a bit more pace, a higher BPM; something to stir the reluctant blood and get the muscles working. At the end of the day, I find the tracks that worked in the morning quite often irritate, and I need something a bit more soothing.The soundtrack to my summer commute is currently being revised for the cooler, darker months.
What's on your OBE? Which tunes are getting you going in the winter mornings? Leave a comment below.
Monday, November 29, 2010
My 1000 mile commute (my cycling week)
Last week, I completed 1000 miles of cycle commuting this year. Not by cycling from Land's End to John O'Groats in 10 days (or 27 hours), but by cycling my 11 mile each-way commute over the past 11 months, chipping away at the total, one day at a time.
Despite all my brave words on Monday, even fortified by a cup of coffee and a piece of toast, it was still tough to get out of the house last Wednesday when the cold weather started to dig in. Despite all my planning, the back tyre was flat when I lifted the bike out of the garage in the morning - and me all dressed up and ready to go. Tightening my resolve, I risked it being only a slow flat and pumped it up hard with the track pump (every home should have one).
And off I went.
The morning was cold - not ice-in-the-water-bottle cold, but cold enough that the car windows would require some serious scraping. Cold enough that the more exposed puddles had a layer of ice on them, that the grass by the roadside was white with hoarfrost. But not so cold that my face was burning, my head feeling the headache of ice-cream brainfreeze. And dry with it so that the roads were not treacherous.
Not so dark, either. When I left the house, the sun was not yet fully up but the day was light, the landscape all whites and pale pastel purples. The sky, bluer overhead, shot through with clouds.
In the eastern sky, the pre-dawn light on the broken clouds was like the glow on coal embers as they die. In the western sky, the moon, just off full, still high in the sky above clouds that had their own colour of red-purple, pale.
Then, as the day dawned, a deeper brighter red spread across the sky. I love the way the sun turns colour as it rises; at first that thick red, then orange, turning paler and lighter as it rises, becoming yellow-white in the sky.
That Wednesday, when the sun rose above the distant hedgerow, burning through the spindly denuded fingers of the hedge by the roadside, it was a powerful, hot orange; the colour of a tiger's back, brilliant and fierce and glorious.
And I saw things for the first time, things I've not seen in a thousand miles: across a certain field, beyond the low carpet of mist that still clung to the white ground, behind leafless trees, the sharply pointed triangle of a church steeple silhouetted against the orange sun.
Rounding a bend, a woodpecker darting across the road, body yellow-green, head a flash of scarlet.
The joy on my 1000 mile ride today was not, as I thought it would be, in the triumph of having ridden a thousand miles. Today the joy was simpler, the pleasure and satisfaction of being out on my bike; the delight of cycling on a cold frosty morning, in the quiet early light, seeing the world through early eyes, seeing wonderful things, feeling alive.
And it doesn't take a thousand miles to feel that; I can have that every time I cycle.
Despite all my brave words on Monday, even fortified by a cup of coffee and a piece of toast, it was still tough to get out of the house last Wednesday when the cold weather started to dig in. Despite all my planning, the back tyre was flat when I lifted the bike out of the garage in the morning - and me all dressed up and ready to go. Tightening my resolve, I risked it being only a slow flat and pumped it up hard with the track pump (every home should have one).
And off I went.
The morning was cold - not ice-in-the-water-bottle cold, but cold enough that the car windows would require some serious scraping. Cold enough that the more exposed puddles had a layer of ice on them, that the grass by the roadside was white with hoarfrost. But not so cold that my face was burning, my head feeling the headache of ice-cream brainfreeze. And dry with it so that the roads were not treacherous.
Not so dark, either. When I left the house, the sun was not yet fully up but the day was light, the landscape all whites and pale pastel purples. The sky, bluer overhead, shot through with clouds.
In the eastern sky, the pre-dawn light on the broken clouds was like the glow on coal embers as they die. In the western sky, the moon, just off full, still high in the sky above clouds that had their own colour of red-purple, pale.
Then, as the day dawned, a deeper brighter red spread across the sky. I love the way the sun turns colour as it rises; at first that thick red, then orange, turning paler and lighter as it rises, becoming yellow-white in the sky.
And I saw things for the first time, things I've not seen in a thousand miles: across a certain field, beyond the low carpet of mist that still clung to the white ground, behind leafless trees, the sharply pointed triangle of a church steeple silhouetted against the orange sun.
Rounding a bend, a woodpecker darting across the road, body yellow-green, head a flash of scarlet.
The joy on my 1000 mile ride today was not, as I thought it would be, in the triumph of having ridden a thousand miles. Today the joy was simpler, the pleasure and satisfaction of being out on my bike; the delight of cycling on a cold frosty morning, in the quiet early light, seeing the world through early eyes, seeing wonderful things, feeling alive.
And it doesn't take a thousand miles to feel that; I can have that every time I cycle.
Monday, November 22, 2010
Not quite 1000 miles (my cycling week)
This week I had hoped to be writing that I'd done 1000 commuting miles on my bike this year.
Unfortunately, due to a combination of bad weather, poor planning, and personal commitments, I remain at 993 miles. I could say "only 993 miles" but I know it's more than many people have cycled. And yes, I also know that it's much, much less than others; a colleague told me they cycled Lands End to John O'Groats (a distance of around 1000 miles, depending on the route) in ten days. It's taken me eleven months to get as far as 993 miles.
But, whether we're comparing apples and oranges or not, the fact remains that I have not yet reached my target; not last week, at any rate, for a variety of excuses and reasons. The reasons I'm comfortable with; the excuses I recognise for what they are.
Family commitments played their part too. One day, I had to be somewhere at a certain time and I knew that my chances of managing that would be increased if I drove to work. Another day I had to get up particularly early with my little boy, and I didn't have the energy to do the ride. More excuse than reason, I think.
And there was the weather. When the mist and the fog rolled in last week - fog being one of the two things I really do prefer not to cycle in (the other is snow) - the voice in my head cautioned safety over mileage. I feel that this one too is closer to excuse than reason.
The other factor- I must be honest - is motivation. Curiously, because I am so close to my goal, I find myself becoming more selective, more picky about the days I cycle in. Knowing that I only have to do one more day's commute to complete my thousand miles, there's a little voice in my head saying "Ah, do it next week."
With the darker mornings and the fog and the cold, it's a little harder to stir my body to action of a morning. I know that once I'm out of the house I'll very quickly be warm and glad of the cycle. I'll feel that sense of achievement at having got out on the bike, when I might not have - when so many other people have not. I'll enjoy the exercise, the fresh air, the scenery. But it's easier not to cycle, easier to shuffle into the car.
And that's from me, someone that gladly chooses to cycle, someone with a goal; someone that writes about cycling.
No, the thing I miss the most about cycling is the mental freedom. When I cycle, I arrive at work breathing hard, my mind buzzing. I'll park the bike and run to jot down the thoughts and ideas that came to me over the ride. New ideas for writing, for the joy of cycling, for something that I've seen on the ride in: the sun rising over the water meadows, catching the few red apples that remain on the leafless trees. Work problems solved and resolved; progress made.
When I don't cycle, it's harder to sit down and organise my day - not impossible, just not as easy as it could be. My energy is less, my enthusiasm elsewhere. When I do cycle, I feel like I'm flying through the day. A chap could get used to that sensation.
I will look at my diary - work and family - and plan the days that will work for me to cycle; I'll clear my chores on the driving days so I can be free to cycle on the other days. I'll look at the weather forecast, but I'll let it guide me rather than dictate my decisions. I'll find my cold weather gear, and my wet weather cycling gear and make sure they're on hand, clean, ready to go. I'll make sure my lights are fully charged.
I'll be armed with reasons, not excuses.
I know that I need to be firm in my resolve otherwise I know that I'll talk myself out of it in the cool dark mornings before I leave the house. So I'll remind myself of all the good reasons to cycle; all the joys and benefits. I'll keep that knowledge with me on the cold dark mornings before dawn and I'll get ready to cycle nonetheless.
And next week I'll be writing about my 1000 miles of cycle commuting.
Unfortunately, due to a combination of bad weather, poor planning, and personal commitments, I remain at 993 miles. I could say "only 993 miles" but I know it's more than many people have cycled. And yes, I also know that it's much, much less than others; a colleague told me they cycled Lands End to John O'Groats (a distance of around 1000 miles, depending on the route) in ten days. It's taken me eleven months to get as far as 993 miles.
But, whether we're comparing apples and oranges or not, the fact remains that I have not yet reached my target; not last week, at any rate, for a variety of excuses and reasons. The reasons I'm comfortable with; the excuses I recognise for what they are.
Excuses and reasons for not cycling to work
Poor planning contributed last week. I had some meetings that required I be smart - smarter than I can be when I cycle in, unless I've left some clothes in the office. This time, I didn't have any appropriate clothes in the offices, so I chose to drive in.Family commitments played their part too. One day, I had to be somewhere at a certain time and I knew that my chances of managing that would be increased if I drove to work. Another day I had to get up particularly early with my little boy, and I didn't have the energy to do the ride. More excuse than reason, I think.
And there was the weather. When the mist and the fog rolled in last week - fog being one of the two things I really do prefer not to cycle in (the other is snow) - the voice in my head cautioned safety over mileage. I feel that this one too is closer to excuse than reason.
The other factor- I must be honest - is motivation. Curiously, because I am so close to my goal, I find myself becoming more selective, more picky about the days I cycle in. Knowing that I only have to do one more day's commute to complete my thousand miles, there's a little voice in my head saying "Ah, do it next week."
With the darker mornings and the fog and the cold, it's a little harder to stir my body to action of a morning. I know that once I'm out of the house I'll very quickly be warm and glad of the cycle. I'll feel that sense of achievement at having got out on the bike, when I might not have - when so many other people have not. I'll enjoy the exercise, the fresh air, the scenery. But it's easier not to cycle, easier to shuffle into the car.
And that's from me, someone that gladly chooses to cycle, someone with a goal; someone that writes about cycling.
Reasons to cycle to work
I do miss cycling into work, though. It's not just about the feeling of air in my lungs, the sensation of flying. It's not just about the satisfaction of having started the day with a good spell of exercise, have finished the day with the same; the working hours bookended with a decent blast on the bike. And, yes, I'll be honest; it's nice to have people regard me with a mixture of disbelief and impressed horror. You cycled in, today?!No, the thing I miss the most about cycling is the mental freedom. When I cycle, I arrive at work breathing hard, my mind buzzing. I'll park the bike and run to jot down the thoughts and ideas that came to me over the ride. New ideas for writing, for the joy of cycling, for something that I've seen on the ride in: the sun rising over the water meadows, catching the few red apples that remain on the leafless trees. Work problems solved and resolved; progress made.
When I don't cycle, it's harder to sit down and organise my day - not impossible, just not as easy as it could be. My energy is less, my enthusiasm elsewhere. When I do cycle, I feel like I'm flying through the day. A chap could get used to that sensation.
Finding the motivation to cycle0
This week I'm going to pick the days that I'm cycling in and I'm sticking to them.I will look at my diary - work and family - and plan the days that will work for me to cycle; I'll clear my chores on the driving days so I can be free to cycle on the other days. I'll look at the weather forecast, but I'll let it guide me rather than dictate my decisions. I'll find my cold weather gear, and my wet weather cycling gear and make sure they're on hand, clean, ready to go. I'll make sure my lights are fully charged.
I'll be armed with reasons, not excuses.
I know that I need to be firm in my resolve otherwise I know that I'll talk myself out of it in the cool dark mornings before I leave the house. So I'll remind myself of all the good reasons to cycle; all the joys and benefits. I'll keep that knowledge with me on the cold dark mornings before dawn and I'll get ready to cycle nonetheless.
And next week I'll be writing about my 1000 miles of cycle commuting.
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