Barking legs? Say what Jens Voigt says..

When the legs feel strong on a ride, it’s pretty easy to stay focused on keeping a strong cadence. But it takes no small bit of mental inspiration to make the brain reject the “we’re tired” message from the legs.

Jens Voigt, the chatty, newly retired pro cyclist has made his response famous: “Shut up legs.”

He even has those words painted on his bike to remind himself what to say when his legs are groaning.

Jens has figured out that legs can be lazy when they’re tired and that it’s up the brain to crack the whip to keep them from holding back any energy they still have.

But to crack the whip, the brain needs an inspiration – like the will to catch or stay ahead of other riders -- as a spark to ignite the legs into a higher gear.

On my most recent ride, my legs were definitely tired from a long, but fast ride the day earlier. I still had some residual lactic acid in the quads so that whenever I stood up to pedal a short ascent, the quads barked mightily when I sat down to pedal on. I had an OK pace nonetheless, mainly because there was a strong tailwind pushing me. But on the 25-mile return, it was a double whammy of tough conditions. Tired legs and a serious headwind, like 15-20 mph at times, to pedal against.

I told myself to just pedal, don’t beat yourself up trying to get pace against the headwind. When I thought about it, that was what my legs were saying to my brain, and my brain was good with it.

So that’s how I rode the first nine-mile split on the way back, just pedaling steady against the wind, not knocking myself out. Sure enough, I rode it slow as molasses. It was on the next, final split I time myself on, a 14.5-mile stretch of mostly flat terrain with occasional rollers, where my legs told my brain to stay the course. We’re tired and there’s a headwind, they said, so we can’t do any kind of strong pace.

I rode with that mindset for about two miles, and then suddenly got passed by a rider I’ve seen often on the trail blazing along in the other direction. I call her blonde stripes because she’s blonde and always has on a jersey with green, black and white vertical stripes. She’s a strong rider, and I caught up to her when she had to slow way down to wait for a group of people walking on the trail. They blocked both lanes and eventually moved over enough so we could pass. Once clear, she took off and it was then that my brain shot a memo to the legs: Shut up and go.

I wanted to see if I could catch up to her, because she was going 18-20 mph into the headwind, and I figured after awhile, she’d bog down, since she wasn’t drafting anybody. But I wasn’t sure about that because she had a steady, hard pace. So I set to grinding it out, trying to reel her in. I had a pretty big gap to close, around 30 or 40 yards. I slowly gained on her, since she did back off her earlier pace. Eventually I’d build up enough pace to pass her. Nice Colnago!

By this time, my legs weren’t barking at all, just churning away. The “shut up legs” command had been heeded as if the tired legs excuse was off the table. I kept up the strong pace into the wind, then passed a drinking fountain/restroom stop where a rider was about to get on the trail right behind me. This guy soon gained on my pace and then passed going about 20 mph. Keeping that pace against a headwind is no easy thing, but he seemed very fresh. I thought, hey, if I can get on his wheel, the rest of the ride back wouldn’t be such a battle with the wind.

So I told the legs a second time to shut up, and tried to pick up the pace enough to catch him. It took me awhile, like a mile or two, but I eventually got on his wheel and caught my breath. But this guy kept riding a blistering pace, and I started to really feel the effects of having ridden 40 or so miles, many of them against a headwind.

I sat up to rest, since my legs now were beat, drained, and without the power needed to keep the pace I’d been riding. The guy kept lengthening the gap until I couldn’t see him. Then I realized how much more power had been sleeping in my legs when I started the last half of the ride. The brain just needed the spark of inspiration of a faster rider to wake them up, and suddenly a higher tempo was happening on the bike. Still, without the sparks of incentive from the two fast riders, my legs would have won the too tired to ride faster argument.

The guy came in sight again about two miles to the finish of the split, and I could see he had backed off on his speed. I wanted to catch him before the end of the split. I took a shot at it, and gained on him, but I was too far behind, and couldn’t do it by the end of the split. Still, the split time was strong considering the headwind. The strong time was sparked by two fast riders who had inspired the Jens Voigt mantra that tired legs should just be quiet!

Can’t we all just get along?

The last two miles of my regular ride is through heavy traffic. The other day on the last stretch home, I pulled up next to a car as we waited for the light rail train to pass. “So are you gonna take off like Peter Sagan?” the young guy driving in the car says to me in a playful tone.

“Oh yeah,” I said. “But he hasn’t been winning much lately.”

We chitchatted until the rail guard arm rose after the train passed.

“You have a great day,” the guy said as he hit the gas.

“You too,” I said, waving.

I thought, now there’s an example of a driver and cyclist on friendly terms. It was a great thing to me. The guy had to be into cycling in the first place, since he knows who Peter Sagan is. But either way, it was nice to have a good vibe from a driver who wasn’t offended by a cyclist occupying a lane on the street.

I’ve been honked at by angry drivers through this stretch. I try to wave a friendly howdy do to them, but it’s not always possible. Once when I tried to do that, I almost crashed. It’s a tense stretch to ride through, since it feeds a couple of freeway on ramps and oftentimes drivers are in a hurry to get on them. If they feel encroached upon by a cyclist, some will honk as they go by, venting their anger.

I just focus on pedaling hard, knowing the gauntlet will be over in a few hundred yards. One time, passing under the freeway, a guy on a Harley gunned his engine, sending out a deafening decibel explosion that bounced a few times off the concrete of the short tunnel-like underside of the freeway and made the ride a bit unsteady. Such is the reality of cycling in heavy street traffic. There are good vibes, bad vibes, and the occasional loud blast of motorcycle acceleration that will make you want to dive for cover! But if drivers and cyclists can keep their interactions friendly, hey, we can all safely share the road.

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

-- Mark Eric Larson

Panic brake? Better not...

One of the scariest things that can happen on a road bike is when something flashes into your path and makes you do a panic squeeze of the brakes. A long time ago, when I was in college, I rode to the grocery store on my heavy duty Schwinn Varsity. I bought a bag of stuff and figured I could ride back with one hand on the handlebars and the other arm could cradle the bag of groceries. Of course, I didn’t have a helmet. I don’t think they were invented yet!

So I rode down a street behind a car that suddenly stopped in my path. To avoid hitting the car, I squeezed the brake with my one hand in a panic attempt to slow the bike, which was a much too quick overreaction. Well, it locked up the front tire and I flew off the bike. I hit the pavement with my arm full of groceries. I blocked my fall with the bag of stuff, which exploded on impact. My one arm got scraped up a bit, but I gathered the groceries and walked the bike rest of the way to wherever I was going.

The panic stop on the road bike, I’ve learned, or on most other bikes on a paved surface for that matter, rarely slows the bike down safely. Instead, it throws open the door to a crash. The urge to squeeze the brakes hard is often the first instinct borne in abject fear of suddenly hitting something. It takes some doing to resist the initial message from brain to hand to make a hard squeeze of the brake. But training your mind to hold off on an initial panic reaction with a much lighter touch on the brake will often help avoid a crash.

I’ve seen riders fall because of panic stops that were completely unnecessary. If they manage to resist a hard brake, the bike’s forward momentum will often help them steer out of harms way -- if they’re not riding too fast. Some of the resulting falls I’ve seen have been no big deal, no injuries, just an embarrassment to the rider. Others left the riders prone on the pavement, unable to move and an ambulance had to be called.  

A few times I have lucked out despite making a brief panic brake at a sudden obstacle, such as a squirrel running in front of the front wheel. Both tires lock for a half second, but after a quick release, I have avoided hitting more than a few suicide squirrels and a possible crash. That, I have found, is true luck, when I’ve braked in a quick panic – even for a split second -- and have stayed upright. Helping with control in that situation is equal pressure on both brakes instead of one or the other. A quickly locked-up front tire is an end-o in the making. A locked up back tire, though, usually allows more control of the bike when it puts you in a brief skid.

This past week I rode a fast descent on a twisting two-lane trail, and got to the part where there’s a sharp right turn, blinded on the right side by a dirt and rock cliff. I take this turn pretty fast a lot, but am always on the lookout for riders or walkers that suddenly appear coming up the hill around the corner. My biggest fear is that they’ll be blocking the right lane, because that can mean an unavoidable crash. I try to swing into it and take a close inside line to make as much room as possible if somebody suddenly appears. This time a rider appeared as I hit the corner and the shock of seeing him caused me to briefly hit the brakes. I was leaning on the corner so I had a mini skid that I quickly pulled out of and rode on. But it was a good thing I just tapped the brakes. Or that could have been a nasty crash. The reduced speed I still had after the braking allowed me to ride out of the skid. Which reminds me of braking while on a mountain bike.

On a mountain bike, speed, not the brake, is your friend

When I first started riding a mountain bike, I had to re-learn my instincts of when to brake. I would approach a rock garden going fast, and hit the brakes with the theory I needed to slow down to have control. But after falling a lot, and hearing other riders urging me to “pedal through” the rough stuff, I found that braking on the approach to rocky sections often kills the very speed you need to get through them. Then, going too slow to ride through it, you fall. So I learned to brake as little as possible on the mountain bike.

One section of a mountain trail I love was one that taught me a lot of lessons. This big lesson was to resist braking on steep, technical down-pitches of trail. This particular section starts off with a steep uphill pitch, the terrain alternating between hard packed dirt and loose rock. Because it’s steep and long, I’m in a very low gear and I’m sucking wind hard. At the top of the climb you have to ride between large rocks to make a right turn that dips very steeply into a V-shaped trail that has tree roots and loose rocks. It suddenly pitches up almost vertically toward a more leveled out part of the trail. This nasty little ravine ate me up more than once! Tired from the climb, I’d dip down the chute, and hit the brakes to get control. But the quick, steep uphill pitch requires speed to get up, and any braking on the down part kills the momentum needed to get up the steep part. One time I was really winded from the climb, out of control on the quick descent. I ran right over a loose rock the size of a lunch bucket, and slammed down to the ground, mashing the palm of my right hand and scraping the skin under my forearm on some poison oak. I looked up, and the bike had been thrown on its side pointing backwards down the trail. Rejected by the trail! This section became my feared nemesis every time I rode this trail, and after falling on it more than once, I took a different approach. When I got to the top of the tough climb, I stopped to catch my breath. Then I watched some other riders’ approach. What they did – and important to note they didn’t seem as winded as me at the top of the climb, which was one of my problems – was that they stood up on their pedals as they rode down the steep pitch, and let their bike’s momentum run without braking. Then as they hit the steep upward pitch, they were in position to pedal hard while standing, and could ride fast up through the roots and rocks. So braking down the steep pitch was the enemy, and preserved speed was the friend that shot the bike up the short steep pedal climb. Took awhile to learn, especially while fighting for oxygen, but I got it: Stay off the brakes and be ready to “pedal through” the rough stuff.

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

-- Mark Eric Larson

Slow rides crash proof? Uh, no...

Many people think it’s no big deal it they don’t wear a helmet while riding a bike. They scoff at the idea that helmets are a needed head protection, and steadfastly refuse to wear them. One Twitter follower sent me this message on the helmet issue: “ffs, you don’t need a helmet if you’re riding at children’s speeds or pootling to the shop.”

Well, here’s the thing, Shoestring Cycling, if you figure children’s speeds are too slow and safe to warrant wearing a helmet, I argue that even slow pace crashes can still be pretty violent smackdowns. A slow speed crash tends to stop the bike in its tracks, and gravity and momentum suddenly pile-drive the rider straight down to the roadway or trail. That’s been my experience over the years. And having a helmet on in any crash sure doesn’t hurt to cut the chances of a brain injury.

Most of my slow falls have been on a mountain bike and some have roughed me up plenty. I once was climbing a steep trail on my mountain bike, creeping along, when a rider coming downhill the other way didn’t give me enough clearance and our handlebars clipped. Because I was going so slowly, it stopped my bike, and it tipped over. I went down on top of it, unable to unclip in time to break my fall. I fell on top of the sticking up end of the handlebars, right over my heart, with my full weight. It felt like someone popped me in the chest with a pole vaulter’s pole. I rolled off it and sat on the ground as the rider asked if I was OK. Stunned from the sharp blow, I couldn’t even speak. I remember thinking how blunt force trauma over the heart can send you into cardiac arrest, so I concentrated on staying as calm as I could. I had a helmet on, and I didn’t hit my head, but I still got hurt. I eventually got it together enough to get up and ride on.

Another time I climbed a technical steep dirt path when the front tire hit a rock, stopped and tipped me over on the steep downhill side of the trail. Again, I was unable to kick out of the pedals in time to break my fall and, still attached to the bike, landed on my back over a square piece of granite about the size of a lunch box. Didn’t hit my head there, but man, that fall was painful. My back was out of whack for several days.

So even if you’re riding slowly, and are sure your ride could never be in danger of a crash, don’t be so sure. Something can suddenly get in your path like a car, a rock or a squirrel, a loose running kid,  a dog. If you’re forced to make an evasive move to avoid a collision, or you do a panic brake, the bike may go down and you with it. These scenarios happen all the time.

On my road bike, I’ve been hurt on quick slap-down crashes from wet tires slipping out from under the bike on a deep lean curve, and from a gopher running under my front wheel on a descending curve. There was no helmet hit on either crash, but plenty of forearm road rash. Still, glad the helmet was on because you never know what part of you is going to collide with something unforgiving like pavement, a rock, or a sidewalk.

I have a friend who is an expert bike rider who was out for a seemingly harmless spin and accidentally got his tire caught in a railroad track groove embedded into the road. The groove grabbed and suddenly locked his front wheel to a stop. He fell hard from his forward momentum, hit his head on the pavement, wrecked his shoulder, and fractured an arm. He limped home, his one hand unable to squeeze the brake. His wife drove him to the emergency room and he later needed shoulder surgery. He’s always been a big believer in riding with a helmet, especially parents out with their kids. And his crash confirmed his pro-helmet stance.

Even though his crash messed him up, and his head took a hit, his head wasn’t injured. But his helmet was scraped and cracked from the fall. He’s sure the helmet saved him from a brain injury that could have put him and his family in a long-term world of hurt. He has two sons and is the family’s main breadwinner.

Note to self: Don’t move furniture

My lower back tightened up last weekend while moving furniture, and it kept me off the bike for a few days. After doing stretches, core work, and sitting through a lot of chair massages, I eventually went out on the bike with a much more relaxed back. Still, I had  some sciatic nerve pain on my inside left quad. I just pedaled an easy pace for most of the ride, didn’t feel much nerve pain in the leg. When I got home, I tested the leg and the pain was almost gone. So now all that’s left to do is ride more to gain back leg strength. But dagnabbit, all that gnarly pain and back/leg rehabbing could have been avoided. Just needed to keep my back straight and use my legs while moving furniture. But for me, that’s easier said than done. I forget, then ow-ow-ow, oh that was stupid. But on the good side, I think I now have a great excuse to avoid moving furniture in the future!

Accepted cycling dos and don’ts

I recently read a couple things out there listing in great detail what are considered the proper rules of behavior for cyclists. Some struck me as ridiculous: Never attach a bicycle pump to your bike, or never have a saddlebag on your bike, everything you need should fit into the back pockets of your jersey.  Shave your legs. There were many more, ad nauseum, but I lost interest. In my book the only rules that usually make sense are those meant to help avoid injury. But too many rules for anything easily become mock-worthy, because, yes, there are plenty of questionable rules that don’t really need to be followed. Hey, if they don’t make any sense to an independent thinking person, and not following them doesn’t hurt anybody else, why should anybody be compelled to follow them?

Here are my two rules about cycling: Ride safely, and have fun. And don’t worry about being scorned if you ride with hairy legs and heaven forbid, attach a tire pump to your bike!

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

This is a ride? No, it's an obstacle course...

Sometimes, even the therapy of getting out on the bike turns into a series of unexpected close calls.

That happened on my April Fools Day ride. When it ended and I happily made it back home unscathed, I concluded the day had seemed much more like Halloween, or a Friday the 13^th  on a full moon. But April Fools Day was still pretty fitting.

My first close encounter was on a curving bike trail ramp up to a bridge that goes over a road. I always look ahead to see if anybody’s coming the other way. If they are, I try to get a feel for how fast, and yes, if they’re in the right lane.

Near the top there’s a blind right turn and as I ride up, a college kid on a small bike barrels around the corner, in my lane, straight at me.

“Get outta the way!” I yell. He veers crazily out into his own lane and keeps on going. I take a deep breath and ride on. I have a thought: Clowns like this kid need to have their bikes sawed in half and put into a recycling bin.

Little do I know there is plenty more crazy to come. And, just for added adventure, it’s windy! Oh, love that wind. And my legs are tired from the long ride the day before. I resign myself to the fact that this is going to be a 51-mile slog. And, it is, pretty much. But several monkey wrenches pop up along the way. Such as:

• A toddler runs loose on a downhill part of the trail where riders routinely fly down at 20 mph. The kid’s mom walks behind him along the trail, completely oblivious to the danger her kid/riders are in because of a possible hit and crash. I brake and call out to the daydreaming mom, “Better pick him up!”

Gladly, she isn’t deaf, and looks to have been jostled awake by what she just heard.

“Thank you,” she calls, as she runs ahead and scoops up the kid.

Really? Sure, it’s just fine if I let the little guy run free on the well-traveled bike trail. It’s such a beautiful day!

I remember another time I had a much closer call with a little kid. He and his mom were at the side of the bike trail, where it’s flat and riders often try out their speed skills. I saw the two ahead. Just as I was about to ride by, the mom let go of the kid to put her hair up in a beret or ponytail, with both hands. In that split second, the kid darted out onto the trail. I swerved and just missed hitting the little guy. After almost swallowing my heart, I was speechless as I rode on.

• Riding down the end of a fast descent off of a bridge, I look ahead. Here, cyclists have a good burst of speed as they cross a street where they have the right of way. Three teenage girls are about to cross the entrance to the bike path, which resumes off the street. The first crosses, sees me coming fast and scoots across. The other two are about cross in front of me. They look up at the last second, see me, and beat a hasty retreat as I ride by.

What? Look before crossing a bike path? Why would we need to do that?

Same thing happens on the way home. A fast walking coed doesn’t look before she’s about to stride off the sidewalk to cross the street, right in my path.

“HeyHeyHEY!” I yell as I veer away. She stops herself just in time. Again, near heart attack.

• A shirtless, barrel chested young guy runs the opposite way on the bike trail, as his pit bull runs behind him in the bike lane, dragging his leash. Tough Guy has a smirk on his face like he thinks it’s cute to make cyclists avoid hitting his free running dog.

• As if avoiding suicidal squirrels and unleashed dogs isn’t enough, a black cat appears very close to the trail at the end of a fast descent. What? A cat?

I slow down hoping it doesn’t dart onto the trail. Relieved when it doesn’t. Not really ready to run over and kill a house cat.

• I ride around a few cases of walkers positioned on the bike trail shoulder to shoulder. They’re blithely indifferent to the fact that they are blocking lanes of the bike trail where, yes, cyclists come through, both ways, and sometimes at the same time. That means the whole trail, for their safety and for the safety of cyclists, should be kept clear. There is often a dirt footpath along both sides of the bike trail. But many walkers shun the idea of walking single file on the paths. They walk next to each other on the bike trail so they can talk. Some walkers are comical in their steadfast refusal to give up their lane space. They stare down approaching riders with a ridiculous display of  “Don’t care if I’m in your lane, I’m not giving ground, deal with it.”

• And of course, what ride would be complete without adults riding with children, the children wearing helmets, and the adults not wearing them. These adults seem to think they’ll never crash, so why should they wear a helmet? Well, what if they do crash, for some unpredictable reason, and crack their heads on the pavement? And suffer a serious brain injury. Won’t be much of a parent to the kids then. I see this all the time.

I was a little jumpy after all the close calls. Still, the ride had some great parts. Chortled at three wild turkeys alongside the bike trail, and all three gave a call-back chortle! Tough to get those, great victory when it happens! Just the day before I set a personal record with a five-turkey group chortle-back. On a roll. Need to get this on video.

What was the best part of this harrowing ride? Easy. I made it back home without having a mechanical, crash, getting hurt, or hitting and/or injuring anybody. Hey, if every ride ends like that, no matter how tough it was to endure mentally or physically, I’m good, more than thankful.

Cruisin’ the neighborhood

I have a cruiser bike that I rarely ride, but last weekend I decided, hey, time to air up its tires, and take a wandering cruise. This friggin’ bike feels like it’s made out of lead next to my feather light road bike. It has an aluminum frame, three speeds, with a hand brake for the front wheel and an annoying rear wheel coaster brake that’s easy to lock up by mistake. No worries, I rode the neighborhood streets, thinking of nothing, and checked back with streets I hadn’t ridden for years. I saw some alleys and remembered I used to ride down any alleys I could find, just for fun. Most times they were dirt and rutted, where scruffy tomcats stalked their territory, and odd-looking people would appear out of nowhere. The alley rides never lacked for interesting sights. Gotta do another alley tour on the cruiser!

‘Til next time, remember to put on a helmet every time you get on the bike. Then make sure to keep the rubber side down, ride safely, and most of all, have a blast.

-- Mark Eric Larson