POP! Hard lessons of a rear tire blowout

My back tire blew out, POP!, on the bike trail, and I immediately knew why. I’d put thousands of miles on it. And I recently had to ride three miles for help with it rubbing its sidewall against the rear fork. A rear spoke broke while I rode out in the middle of nowhere, making the wheel oblong.

No doubt, the rubbed side of the tire was weakened. But I figured it had plenty more miles in it. Well, yes and no. With a new wheel set, I rode on it for a few hundred miles more. And then, the tube forced through a small hole near the bead of the tire and blew up.

It was then that I began a journey of re-learning that, A) I had a 23 mm wide tire that is a very tight fit on the rim, and B) that my tire changing skills were pretty much flawed, as in Not So Hot.

I managed to wedge one side of the tire off and pull out the exploded tube. I knew it was best to leave one side of the tire in the rim, to cut down on the time of replacing the tube and wrangling the tire back inside the rim. I inflated the new tube to work it over the rim, then used my plastic lever to help get the last bit of tire bead over the rim. Which, because of the very tight fit of the narrow tire, took some gnashing and busted knuckles. When I tried to inflate it with my hand pump, the tube wouldn’t take air.

Ugh! I’ve had this happen before. Just not good, I wanna get back on the trail. So what’s with the damn faulty tube? (You probably know where this is going. Hint: it wasn’t a bad tube. Initially, at least)

So I use the tire lever to take off one side of the tire and pull out the offending tube. I then realize I don’t have the right air cartridge for the trigger unit I have. I have unthreaded kind and it takes threaded. Oh man, another fail! A rider happens by and asks if I need anything.

By the way, all during my repair stop, many riders offered help, and even a park ranger stopped on the road above the trail and asked if I needed a ride, and did I have a phone? That was awesome. I thanked them all and said I was good. Ha Ha!

So this latest rider asked, and I said, “ Do you happen to have a threaded air cartridge?” And he said he did. He stopped and gave me one. I told him my first tube didn’t take air.

“I hate it when that happens,” he said.

I thanked him and then managed to get my second spare tube – I aways carry two, so that was good -- aligned on the rim and work the released tire bead back into place.

Again, I used the plastic lever to get the last bit of tight fitting tire over the rim, grunting like a pig snorting for scraps. I popped the cartridge into the trigger valve and the tire filled up immediately as I hear the tube crackle a bit. Alright, I’m feeling I’m almost road ready! I lean the wheel against my upside down bike to gather the effed up tubes and, suddenly, POP! The tube exploded through the tire sidewall again!

Now I’m thinking, OK, I’m toast, no more tubes. Gotta think about getting a ride home.

Another rider comes by and asks me if I need anything.

“I’m outta tubes,” I said, feeling very stupid as I look at the pile of three useless tubes on the ground.

The guy lays down his bike and fishes out a spare tube. I think he noticed I looked a little defeated.

“Here, he said, motioning for the wheel. “Let me give it a try.”

I handed him the wheel and he used his levers to wedge the tire out of one side. He pulled out the bad tube as I had done. He inflated the new tube to give it shape as I had done, and aligned it in the wheel gutter. He got the tire onto the rim, and I don’t even remember if he used his tire levers to get the last part over. He suggested using the hand pump to get enough air in to ride on, since he said the bead was damaged. The tube took air, and held, and we mounted the wheel on the bike and I was good to go. Richard was his name, and if you read this Richard, thanks a whole lot, bro.

I rode slowly the 16 or so miles home without a problem. The next day, I decided to replace the back tire with a new one.

Tire change, Part II

I set up in the back yard and pulled off the old tire, then began to work with the brand new folded tire, a 23mm Continental Grand Prix Four Season, a great tire that will perform well for mucho miles. This tire will last so long, that if and when it flats, you may have forgotten the right way to change out a tube. Yes, I pretty much did!

But being brand new and 23mm wide, the fit over the rim was extremely tight. After another titan struggle, again, using the tire lever, I finally managed to pop it over the rim. I found some areas where the tube was bunched between the rim and the tire bead and stuffed them them back under the tire with the lever. Again, this is a no-no.

So I started to pump up the tire, and, guess what? The tube wouldn’t take any air! Leak. AGAIN? This is NUTS, I thought. WTF? (This only a conservative description of my reaction. Imagine a primal scream that may have prompted calls to the police)

So I pulled out the leaky tube and put in another one. I got the tire fitted into the rim all the way except the last four inches. And after repeated fails, I couldn’t make any progress in attempts to pop it entirely over the rim and into place. At that point, my hands were raw and hammered, nicked, cramps were starting to set in. So, I told myself, hey, face the music, bro. You don’t know how to do this right. You need expertise here.

It was time to head over to the bike shop.

I asked the guy there to show me what I was doing wrong. The first thing to realize, he said, is that the 23mm wide new tire is going to be very hard for anybody to fit over the rim. It is a very snug fit. He said a 25 mm might be a better choice for less challenging future tube changes. OK, noted.

Anyhow, I knew the first two things. Take only half the tire off, and fill the new tube with enough air to give it shape.

Next, you push the tube under the tire and fit it into the wheel gutter. OK, I think I had been shoving it up under the undone part of the tire. Wrong.

Then, he said, you start tucking the free side of the tire into the rim, pinching it in the middle as you go, and letting air out of the tube a little as you go. OK, here’s the new info: The pinching and air letting helps to bring the tube and tire to the center of the gutter as you tuck in the free side of the tire. That is key to freeing up room to get the last few inches of the tire tucked in, which is where I hit the wall.

I asked him about using the lever to tuck in the tire bead. Uh, never do that, he said. Here’s the second bit of info that is obvious when I look back at all the “bad” tubes I’d installed that wouldn’t take air. Using the lever to tuck in the tire bead puts the tube in danger of being punctured. Don’t do it. Use your hands all the way.

Now, that seems obvious. But I didn’t think it was possible without using the levers. Hands only? Damn.

Using your hands on the last part of the tire bead, where you stretch the tight fitting tire over the rim is a truly tough task.

But, the guy said, if you just keep pinching the middle of the tire to keep it centered, then twist the last part of the tire, it’ll pop into place. He showed me, and he, a guy who can change a bike tire in his sleep, had to work the hell out of that last section of tire with his hands. But he did it in a minute or less. OK, no punctured tube, new tire on, good to go.

Now I just hope I remember all these little tricks the next time I have a flat. Just as a way to keep the primal screams at bay.

Til next time, remember to strap on a helmet every time you get on the bike. Then, keep the rubber side down, ride safely and have a blast.

-- Mark Eric Larson

Ride fatigue = Punchdrunk thinking...WAKE UP!

It’s no surprise that I usually feel the cumulative fatigue of my routine 51-mile out and back ride on the last 14.5-mile leg. My legs feel heavier and it’s harder to maintain my goal pace of 18-20 mph.

Another thing that has cropped up toward the end of the ride when I’m tired is a lower backache. When they’ve come up, I start deep breathing through my nose. If I concentrate on that, it usually eases or even makes the ache go away and I can pick up my pace. After a few backaches on that back stretch, I wondered if dehydration caused them. They also cropped up on hot weather rides. Yes, I seemed like that was it. Hey, it took awhile, but I finally figured out it was a good idea to stop at a water fountain with about five miles to go (duh!). There I fill my up my typically nearly empty water bottle and drink most of it.

By the way, I only bring one bottle on the ride, since I’ve convinced myself that having the less weight with one bottle is a good move. I could be completely wrong on this, but hey, I’m convinced!

Back on the bike after a big drink, I’ve been amazed at how a much needed refresh button is hit. I’m suddenly re-energized and am usually able to generate good speed for the last part of the ride.

And when I’ve been fully hydrated on that last leg, I almost never have a backache. Hey, I’m a freakin’ scientist!

It’s funny but the other end of the temp spectrum, cold weather rides are also a hydration challenge for me. On those chilly forays I don’t get as thirsty as when it’s hot, and have to remind myself to drink up, even though it doesn’t feel like I’m sweating too much. But, hey, I am sweating, and need to replenish just like in hot weather.

So I figure that on a long, ride with plenty of pace, it’s almost impossible to drink too much water. That may be obvious, but somehow I haven’t yet trained my brain, especially when I’m tired, to listen closely to the body’s signals to consistently drink up on any given ride.

But because the mind wanders on a ride, that’s can be hard to do. A buddy I know has his watch beep every 15 minutes to remind him to drink up. Now all I have to do is figure out how to program my watch to do that! But no,  here’s my life hack analog solution. Instruct my brain: Hey when the body is slowing down from long ride fatigue, drink a lotta water.  Ok, got it.

Fuzzy Thinking II

Riding up long, steep uphills I’ve often found myself bogged down in a too high gear barely inching ahead. And I’m still in the saddle, so I’m not generating any kind of momentum to get up the slope. I’ve found that almost without exception, this happens when I’m at the end of an extended climb, and my brain isn’t thinking clearly about the best way to tackle a last, very steep section.

This happened recently on the last pitch of Mount Diablo, where I had a lead over my buddy Marc going into the pitch. But I forgot to look over my shoulder to see if he was in striking distance.

When the really steep last several yards came, I bogged down from a steady diet of hard climbing up the mountain. I knew the gnarly last pitch from previous rides and decided to parse out what energy I had left and stay in the saddle. I chugged slowly but surely.

I figured if I went to the well for an energy burst I wasn’t sure I had, I might just bonk and fall off the bike! Clearly, I was caught in the haze of fatigue fueled fuzzy thinking.

I should have realized that hey, that’s the reason you look over your shoulder to see if the guy you want to beat to the top is closing fast. If I had done that, I’d have seen Marc standing up, dancing on his pedals, making his move.

No doubt, would that would have given me the adrenaline spike I needed to stand up on my pedals and hold him off. But no, dude blew by, chiding me as he did, beating me by a few yards. So, I learned. Even if you’re dead tired and in a lead, don’t forget to look over your shoulder regularly to make sure you’re not riding too slowly to keep your lead. But with a hazy thinking brain, easier said than done.

With that in mind, check out this video. It gives some good technique to follow on over the shoulder looks and also how to smoothly grab your water bottle from the cage, and return it after a drink....

Drop exchange

Riders continually drop each other on the bike trail I regularly ride. But I noticed that if a rider blows by without an acknowledgement with a wave or nod, sometimes I get irritated 1)at myself for not riding at the pace I want and 2) for pretty much being shown up by a faster rider.

Yes, I know, it’s a bit pathetic to get bothered. But sometimes it’s all the motivation I need to jump on it, grab the dropper’s wheel and draft for a few miles. Then, and this is the fun part, if I save up enough energy, I pass. And maybe even eventually drop the rider.

But it depends on the energy level that day. Sometimes I have the energy to speed up and grab a faster wheel and hang with them for a long time. Other times, when they’re just too fast, I have to drop off. Can’t do it.

Drafting back and forth with random riders is fun, but I like it if there’s a nod or a wave so it’s a friendly deal. If it’s too ego-driven and there’s no effort at acknowledgement, a less than friendly hammer down contest can happen.

But in those cases, a lot of the fun of riding cooperatively is missing. So I appreciate fast riders who aren’t a TCFS (Too Cool For School) hammerhead, giving no respect to other slower riders. When there’s a wave from a passing near pro-level rider, we mere mortals don’t feel dismissed as unworthy. Hey, we’re all in the same boat. We’re people who like to ride their bikes. Why not be friendly?

Til next time, remember to strap on a helmet every time you get on the bike. Then keep the rubber side down, ride safely and have fun.

--Mark Eric Larson

Flat tire blues cured with a little help...

I got flagged down by an older rider on the side of the trail the other day.

“Got a tire pump we can use?” he asked. His buddy, a taller, even older man, needed air in his slow leaking front tire on his road bike.

“Sure, but how about an air cartridge?” I asked. “Easier than pumping.”

“That’s why I get ‘em,” said the old guy with the low tire. “I ran out.”

I fished an air cartridge out of my saddlebag and tried to hand it to the old guy. But he was busy fussing with his tire, his hands trembled.

The other guy saw this and reached out to take the cartridge. The old guy then got out his air release inflation tool and snapped in the new air cartridge.  

“I only have an empty one to give you for this,” he said.

“No worries, consider it a donation to a fellow rider in need,” I said.

He placed the loaded inflator on the tire stem, and I cautioned him to keep his hand clear, since the released carbon dioxide is ice cold when it releases into the tire.

He pulled the trigger and, pop, the tire inflated instantly. We could see the tire valve stem was frosted white. The guy gingerly tightened up the icy Presta valve.

Fortunately they only had a couple miles to ride to get to their car, they told me, so they were good to go. They thanked me, and I zipped up my saddlebag.

“No problem,” I said. “Just pass it forward to any rider that needs help. I’m just sorry you weren’t a 23-year-old hot babe.”

“I’m 83,” said the old guy.

Wow.

As I rode away, I was heartened. Dude was 83 out riding his road bike. That’s impressive, any way you slice it. Just shows, if you keep fit, you can keep riding well into old personhood. Something good to keep in mind.

My time with the two guys dealing with a flat reminded me of when I got bailed out on the trail a few years ago. I’d gotten a front tire flat from a thistle, and found out, after gnashing about with my air pump, that both of my spare tubes leaked. It was sunny and hot, and I was irritated at the layers of frustration as stinging sweat rolled off my forehead and into my eyes.

So I did the only thing I could do. I hiked the bike over my shoulder and started to walk in my cleats, to the nearest street, so I could call a fellow rider to pick me up.

As I walked, two guys rode by in the other direction.

“You need help?” asked the first guy.

“Need a tube,” I said.

They pulled up and the first guy promptly shook out a spare tube from his saddlebag. I popped off my front tire and started to pry off the tire and the flat tube. I got them off, and the second guy took the wheel and aligned the new tube inside the wheel, blowing a little air into it to give it a little stability, a very smart thing to do. He then grabbed the tire and slotted its two beads into the wheel over the tube, and with the sheer strength of his hands and fingers, pushed the last part of the tire over the rim in no time. I need a lever to that. He saw the valve stem was slanted in the rim hole when the other guy was about to air it up with his own cartridge.

“Wait, it has to be straight,” he said. He took the wheel and again, with hand strength that was amazing, twisted and pulled the tire until the stem was straight up. “OK, good to go,” he said.

The other guy had his cartridge valve loaded and held steady while he popped in the air. His hand was near the valve and he got a shot of ice-cold air on his hand. His hand flew back as he winced and shook off the pain.

I was blown away by these guys. They totally took over to help me, gave me a new tube, did the hardest part in reinstalling the tube and tire, used their cartridge to air it up, and one of them got mini frostbite in the bargain.

“Hey man, I can’t thank you guys enough,” I said. “I was looking at a long walk carrying my bike.”

“Hey, you’re American aren’t you?” scoffed the cartridge guy.

“I’ll pass it forward,” I said.

We parted ways, with me vowing to, A) get air cartridges and a cartridge valve tool, B) make sure to test my two spare tubes for leaks C) to keep a hand pump strapped to the bike as a back up to air cartridges and D) to stop and help any stranded rider I happen upon in the future.

After all, we all love to ride, and we need to help each other keep the rubber side down, and back on the bike after a flat.

Oh, there was one other takeaway from my flat tire helper/riders: Keep the hands away from the valve when airing up a tire with a cartridge. Even a little bit of frostbite, after all, hurts like a mofo.

Here’s a good video on the different types of cartridges, threaded and unthreaded. I use the unthreaded with an inflator tool. Check it out…

Humm, no mention of the ice storm around the valve that will freeze the fingers. Good on all other counts, tho.

Til next time, remember to strap on a helmet every time you get on the bike. Then keep the rubber side down, ride safely and have a great ride.

-- Mark Eric Larson

Deferred bike maintenance? It's gonna cost ya...

Denial is a powerful thing. 
I rode about a year of rides before worn out components forced me to replace a wheel set, a rear cassette and a chain. It was expensive, but when I look back, inevitable. 

I recently popped a spoke on the rear wheel while riding on a slight descent, the pop seemingly happening from no direct cause, like a hitting a pothole or something like that. It just popped, seemingly out of the blue. 

I was 20 miles away from home, and had to do some thinking on the fly to make it back to my bike shop and home. It all worked out, as I’ve written in a previous blog, but if I’d been more awake about the condition of my components, the breakdown most likely could have been avoided. I blame denial, in that I like to ride my bike, and if I’m riding without any problems, I just keep riding. My mistake was not looking closely occasionally at the key components to see if wear is about to blow them up. The result was my back wheel blew up, rendering the rear wheel an oval with a spoke mooring too damaged to fix.

A year earlier that spoke had another spoke that wasn’t trued correctly and popped after about two weeks of rides. It had been bent when, trying to avoid a squirrel darting in front of me, I inadvertently pushed my right heel into the rear spoke. That bent the spoke and gave the rear wheel a slight wobble. Fortunately I was able to ride the 23 miles home. The rear hub had been chewed on a few times from thrown chains, and the anchor holes to some of the spokes on the hub weren’t tight, a bit compromised. 

I’d ridden a year on the replaced spoke, so after a few months I forgot about it being a mechanical Achilles heel on the bike. I just figured it would last and last since I’d ridden on it for thousands of miles without any problem. So, of course, I never really closely inspected to see if the spoke showed any signs of weakening or imminent failing. Oops.

Meanwhile, after riding on my chain far too long, it stretched enough to wear down teeth on the rear cassette. I had been occasionally measuring the chain for stretching. But I found out later I measured it with a chain stick that wrongly showed it hadn’t stretched to far. The key for more accuracy, I learned later, was the need to use a Shimano chain measurer on a Shimano chain. Live and learn.

So, my overly stretched chain filed down the middle teeth on my cassette, to the point where the chain would skip over the middle cog whenever I tried to shift to it.

I noticed the skip, but it didn’t bother me enough to do anything about it. It was only one gear and I rode without it no problem.

But at the bike shop, when I saw the stretch in my chain when it was properly measured, and then the rounded edges on the cogs in the cassette, it was clear that I’d been more interested in riding than checking on those cassette teeth for big time wear.

So I got the wheel set replaced, the cassette replaced, the chain replace, and the drive train cleaned. Yes, it was expensive. As the bike shop mechanic said, “You got your money’s worth,” from my worn out components.

But it was a case of denial-enabled deferred maintenance. And as we all know with cars and other things mechanical, when we put off routine maintenance for too long, of course, they break down! And when, as happened to me, you’re out in the middle of nowhere with no ride home and no AAA for broken down cyclists out on the road, you have to figure out a way to get home.

So it doesn’t hurt to give a close look at all your bike components for wear and tear. That way, you may be able to pay for replacements incrementally, which is way more affordable than the way I did it. 

The key, though, is to get the bike fixed and road ready as soon as possible, high cost or not. Just pony up the dough and move on. Not good to lose perfectly good rides to a bike on the shelf, needing repairs!

Runnin’ hot, keepin’ cool

In a perfect world, when another rider or pedestrian or driver negligently almost causes a crash, we could stop the offender and firmly give them some insight into the importance of being AWAKE while sharing the road or a trail.

When some of these close calls have popped up for me, and I’ve done the necessary evasive move, I continue riding. Then after about 10 seconds I want to vent my frustration with the rider/driver/pedestrian, to tell them they unnecessarily came within a heartbeat of causing mayhem. But I’ve trained myself to let that emotional wave pass with a few deep breaths, as I pedal on. Before I know it, it’s a distant memory, and that’s better than getting into a fight with possible injuries resulting. 

I just hope my escapes of possible crashes continue. I make sure to look skyward and give thanks that I skirted a crash.

Road bike tires on a sandy patch? Beware…

Because the trail I regularly ride on is going through repaving over a short segment, the work crews had a huge detour for cyclists to keep them away from the work area. The detour put riders, mostly road cyclists, off the pavement and onto a stretch of mostly hard packed dirt, that dipped at first through some rocky path, flattened back into hard pack, then traversed a bit uphill where there was a patch of sand. Got through the sand, but as you know, on a road bike, a suddenly soft trail can dump you in a hurry. 

Turned out the detour was huge overkill, and it was shortened so than only a small patch of loose dirt has to be negotiated to get onto and off a paved detour. Much improved, but I still cringe when I ride over the soft dirt where the road bike tire tracks have sunk an inch or two. If you don’t hit it straight and fast…. Don’t wanna go there!

One of the best mountain bike rides I’ve ever done, the Flume Trail on the northeast Lake Tahoe basin, has plenty of decomposed granite, i.e. sand, on it. It’s a hugely rewarding ride, but the sand makes it very tricky in spots. Here’s a video on tips to ride well through sand with a mountain bike. I think the tips apply to a road bike also, as long as the sand isn’t too long to bog down the road bike, which can easily happen. Check this out, some good stuff…

Til next time, remember to strap on a helmet every time you get on the bike. Then, keep the rubber side down, ride safely, and have fun!

-- Mark Eric Larson

A little friendly competition up Mt. Diablo

Marc, my ride buddy from years past, moved to Texas about 18 months ago to take a job helping wounded returning veterans to heal mentally and physically by doing bike rides.

I picked him up at the Sacramento airport recently to do a ride with him before I was to drop him off the next afternoon in Santa Clara for a Ride to Recovery ride he was volunteering for. That ride was over several days, a caravan heading south to Los Angeles.

The next day, we got up early to drive to a ride up Mount Diablo, a great ride featuring a nice climb of 3,720 feet that was on the way to his drop off in Santa Clara.

Pat and P.J., our two other local rider buddies, weren’t able to join in, so it was Marc and me. We always push each other on rides and both of us are pretty fit, so we both knew this ride up Diablo would be a little more of our traditional friendly competition.

“It’s not a race,” said Marc before we rode.

Yeah, huh-huh. Dude can sandbag with the best of them.

No, I didn’t think of it as a race, technically. But I still wanted to beat him up to the top. And he wanted to beat me, no matter what he said. We’re both competitive on rides. We want to rip it up, every time.

Marc, as an aside, always pushed our limits on rides we did before he moved. On big rides in the Sierra, he always lobbied for riding farther or higher, even when we were tanked, out of snacks, nearly out of water. I’d reluctantly go along, and suffer big for it, but we always got through it. And at the end, those rides were the best, because we’d gone beyond what we, or at least what I thought I could do, without bonking. That’s a great feeling, the breakthrough reward after one of those titanic efforts, as any rider or athlete that has pushed past his or her perceived limits, knows well.

On Diablo, we rode together at first, and as the climbing started I went ahead. It was a warm day, and the asphalt road, which winds along the south side of the mountain, is mostly exposed to the sun. I pedaled hard, and the hot mid-morning sun, along with the exertion, made sweat pour off my forehead and into my eyes and sunglasses. The sweat stung my eyes mightily and it was no small chore to pedal hard up the mountain while trying to rub the sweat away from my compromised vision.

I had a big lead on Marc, and at some point stopped looking behind. I just wanted to keep a pedaling rhythm on the steepest parts, which were interspersed with false flats.

I stopped at the ranger station about two-thirds up the mountain, a rest stop we usually take to eat some snacks and drink up. Marc was about two minutes behind when he pulled up.

We ate, batted away a lot of flies in the area as we ate and shot the bull with another rider who had just moved to California from Minnesota. Then we took off toward the summit. We rode together for about 10 minutes, then I pulled away, looking to keep a strong momentum the rest of the way, which is a tough pull any way you slice it. I built a good lead on Marc, and I was pushing it, and after awhile, I just concentrated on pedaling and forgot about him.

The last pitch to the top of Diablo is longish and ridiculously steep, around 15%, and I just went at it slow and sure. There's a reason they call it "The Wall." I just tried to keep moving forward. I decided not to stand up for the last push, thinking it was a better strategy than standing up, hitting the red zone and bonking.

About 20 yards from the top, Marc suddenly passed me, yelling my name as he pedaled out of the saddle, and I crawled along. I was gassed at the top, and rode in a couple of circles through the parking lot to catch my breath.

“That hurt,” said Marc, also in recovery. “When I got to the top I couldn’t breathe.” Again, he said: “That hurt.”

No doubt. Jeez Louise. That’s what oxygen debt will do!

He had turned himself inside out to beat me to the summit. But, of course, to hear him tell it, it wasn’t a race! Yeah, right!

I have to give Marc full credit, he went full gas for a long stretch to pass me at the end, and it did the trick. In trying to get up that last nasty pitch, I forgot all about looking back to see if he was there. If I had, I would have had an adrenaline jolt and jumped on it in time to hold him off.  I like to think so, anyway!

But, hey, who cares? It was all just a little friendly competition. We had a great, tough ride to the top, and after that a very fun, fast curvy descent back down. No mechanicals, no crashes, a great workout. What could be better than that?

And Marc, next time we ride, it won’t be a race, right? Here’s to more rides in the future, bro.

Remembering the good stuff

I like to go out and do fast rides when I take the trail near my house for 50-mile outings. It feels good when I go hard for many miles, and come home tired, with the reward a nice, crisp time. But sometimes riding my course fast just isn’t in the cards. I get out slow because my energy level is low, or the legs just feel heavy. It can be extra hot, or it can rain or hail unexpectedly. There can be nasty headwinds. Or I can forget to drink enough to stay properly hydrated.

So when I realize the ride’s gonna be a slow one, which is early into it, I make sure to tell myself to just chill and enjoy the ride for what it is. And if I make it back home intact, with no crashes or mechanicals, I’m truly thankful. I’ll take that any time. Because any time I make it back home safe and sound, I know I definitely had a good ride. I got my pedals in, and kept the fat at bay for another day!

Til next time, remember to strap on a helmet every time you get on the bike. Then, keep the rubber side down, ride safely and make sure to have fun out there.

-- Mark Eric Larson