Boxer Boy brings it

Motivation to kick it up the pace a notch on the bike comes in all forms. Even when you’re tired, and your legs are heavy.

Slogging out the last leg of a 50-mile ride recently, I was passed up by a guy on a road bike, mashing his pedals at about 20 mph. He had on Bermuda shorts, his boxers were visible, he had on a T-shirt, no helmet, but was listening to tunes on earphones. No clips, just tennis shoes. I sped up and followed his wheel, curious about how long this guy could keep the very fast pace. After a fairly good stretch on the flat trail, he started to slow to about 18 mph and I passed him.

He turned his head and smiled as I rode by, his face red as a beet. This guy must be high, I thought, he doesn’t seem to have a concept that he’s probably very close to a red-line bonk. Anyway, I rode ahead for awhile, and figured I dropped him for sure.

Then he passed me again. As he rode next to me I said, “Why don’t you get some monkeypants and a helmet so you can go faster?”

He didn’t seem to hear what I said. He just smiled broadly through his red face and said, “I made you ride 10 mph faster than you were when I passed you!” He beamed as if he’d just pulled off a magic trick. But it was more like 4 mph faster. “That’s the effect I have on people!” By “people,” I’m pretty sure he met kitted roadies who he liked to mess with by passing him with his no big deal, casual riding look.

“Good for you,” I said as he rode ahead, again knocking down a 20 mph-plus pace.

I followed him for awhile, then when he slowed a bit, I put down the hammer for a good stretch and dropped him. Dude was a trip.

He was right, though. Without his needling my competitive nature, I would have ridden that stretch with a whole lot less pep.

So, thanks Boxer Boy. You the man! Hope you didn’t bonk.

Tales on the cycling trail

I sometimes meet interesting riders while taking a food break at the 25-mile turnaround point of my regular ride. That’s where I park the bike, sit on the side of a concrete planter, munch food and contemplate the day.

The other day, I said howdy to an older guy riding a steel Bianchi who pulled in and we shot the bull. He said his name was Don, and that he rides 100 miles a week, same as what I try to do.

He has Crohn’s disease, and his doctor tells him his riding is a great thing he can do for his health. We laughed about how many times we see parents ride with no helmets, while their kids follow, fully helmeted. Nope, makes no sense, we agreed, but it’s common. Don said he quit riding with a guy that refused to wear a helmet.  He’s sure one saved his life in a bad crash.

He said he took a corner too fast once on the same bike trail I just rode up, and veered off the pavement. He crashed when he tried to steer back onto the lip of the trail. He was messed up, bleeding.

Two riders came along and stopped to help him take inventory of his injuries. He asked them to help him back on his bike so he could ride back to his truck, several miles down the trail. But they saw he was really banged up, so they called an ambulance.

Don spent a few days in the hospital with a collapsed lung and plenty of road rash, and I think he said he messed up an arm and a shoulder.

“My helmet saved me,” he said. It was bashed hard and scraped up, he said. It deflected a nasty blow that would have met his skull, and may have killed him, or left him in soup-sipping mode for the rest of his life.

He told of another crash he had that actually had a happy ending. He was in a left hand turn lane when a driver in the lane at the last minute decided to veer hard right, wanting to go straight ahead rather than turn. Problem was, Don was sitting on his bike on the right side of the turn lane next to the car. But this driver never saw him. He and his bike were dragged by the car’s mirror and thrown onto the pavement, messing up him and his bike.

The driver, it turned out, was a nun, he said. Oops, a last second, no-look move mowed him down. But all this happened directly in front of a police station. A cop wrote the nun a ticket, and Don, after recovering from his road rash, got some settlement cash out of the ordeal. Not many bike crashes have happy endings like that.

But Don took it in stride, and keeps on riding.

Nice to meet you, Don, keep riding and stay safe.

WTF was that all about?

I see odd things on the bike trail while on rides. Here are a few:

A guy juggling three balls while riding a bike: Must be tuning up for his magic act with a little multi-tasking. Pretty sure he wasn’t wearing a helmet. Crash? Not him, too cool for school.

An abandoned skateboard on the side of the trail: Maybe it was broken and abandoned, or maybe the rider was taking a nature break. Seemed odd at the time.

A rider balancing a large, gnarled tree branch on his handlebars: As he rode, he balanced this big ass branch, as the branch poked into the airspace of the oncoming lane. I figured this guy saw the branch and couldn’t believe that it was just the perfect missing part of his back yard garden. Hope he made it back without crashing or forcing another rider off the trail. Had to take some bike handling skills.

A rider on a tandem, with nobody on the back seat: He was either on his way to pick up a partner rider, or maybe just missed whomever he used to ride with on the bike. Looked odd, for sure.
A skunk waddling with purpose along the trail: He sat up and watched as I rode by. I didn't slow down to see if he was ready to rip with some of his personal identity spray.

‘Til next time, make sure and strap on a helmet every time you get on the bike. And then keep the rubber side down, ride safely and have fun.

 -- Mark Eric Larson