When I’m thinking about getting on the bike for a local
ride, I usually check the temp, whether rain is likely, and of course, the
wind.
Rain is an automatic no go. Rode in the rain intentionally
once, never again, been surprised by rain and hail, truly none-fun. I found out
on one ride, where the forecast was 30 percent chance of rain, that with about
18 miles to get home, that from that point on, it was actually 100 percent
chance of rain, and steady it was.
Cold, on the other hand can be dealt with. Dress for it. Same for heat.
Then there’s the wind. Even if everything else is good, if
it’s really windy out, I usually figure out a way to not ride. I tend to recoil
from wind in general, finding it puts my head into an easily annoyed state for
some reason. Maybe it’s the clashing ions in the air or something. Although
wind I’ve encountered in Hawaii has never annoyed me. Go figure.
But yesterday I needed a workout, and the trees outside were
bending to occasional 20 mph gusts. I decided to just grin and bear it, go out
and do my maintenance 51-miler, wind be damned!
I knew it was extra windy when I rode over a suspension
footbridge over the American River. Wind out of the south was gusting hard up
on the bridge, pushing my bike sideways. I looked down at the river’s surface
and it was rippled, rough and ragged, buffeted by a steady, punchy wind.
I just kept riding. Usually I try to work on my average
speed through a 14.5 mile stretch starting shortly after riding off the bridge
and hitting the bike trail. But this time, I knew speed was out of the
question, the wind was going to put a lot more resistance on the road. Usually
I check my mph on that stretch, so I know whether I’m bogging down and need to
pick up the pace, or if I’m in a strong groove that I just need to maintain.
But on this ride, I decided not to check my speed, because I
knew I was slow. It was just a matter of buckling down and pedaling through the
wind. Forget about pace, I told myself.
This was a different than my usual ride mindset. But it
helped to accept the conditions as slow, slow, slow, something to get over, and
good for one thing: laying a conditioning base.
Plus, burning off the Mac n’ cheese and German chocolate
cake I ate the night before.
There weren’t many other riders on the trail, and there was
some road debris of branches, and occasional spots of pebbles and sand
deposited by rain runoff from the day before.
Riding through thick sand deposits can be dicey, especially
on corners. If you’re leaning through them, your tires can fly sideways and put
you in a gnarly meeting with the roadway. I tell myself to hit them straight
up, with locked arms, and to ride through as fast as possible to minimize the
tire drag in the sand. It works.
On the way back, the headwind is ridiculous, in some
sections making it feel like I’m pedaling in place, the bike barely moving
forward. I turn up my music and keep pedaling, enjoying some of the fast
descents and working on sprints up a few of the short pitches.
On the second half of this ride, the 25 miles on the way
home, I usually feel the fatigue of pushing myself hard on the ride out. Plus,
our lovely friend Mr. Wind is almost always in your face to some degree on the
way back.
That’s when it’s great to have a fast rider pass, then speed
up to get on his or her wheel, and draft. I’ve had fast rides home aided
immensely by drafting other riders, and switching back and forth to share the
load. Way faster than I would have ridden slogging tall the way back alone.
On this ride back, I was tired, the wind was pushing me
back, and lo and behold, a fast rider passed me up. I started to chase the guy,
but the wind was braking me, and man, I was mentally and physically feeling
mucho resistance.
Didn’t have enough oomph left to catch up to this guy, who
to his credit, was really cutting through the headwind like the flags were limp.
My legs said, “Who cares, just ride,” and I backed off,
knowing that by the time I caught the dude, that is, IF I caught him, I’d
pretty much have none gas left in the tank.
So I abided, and kept pedaling at my snail’s pace, not
bothering to check my computer to remind me just how slow I was going.
By the time I got home, yes, my total time was crazy slow. A
full 25 minutes slower than a fast time I’d ridden a week ago.
But hey, I was good with it. Even proud of myself, by
yiminy.
I’d ignored the foreboding prospects of riding a long way in
obnoxious wind conditions.
I didn’t get caught up with burning out trying to have a
fast pace.
I just pedaled through.
As the master philosopher, the Big Lebowski, the Dude, would
say, I abided.
‘Til next time, never forget to put on a helmet before
getting on the bike, and then, remember, it’s all important to keep the rubber
side down. Have fun and be safe.
-- Mark Eric Larson
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