If the Toes Ain't Happy, Then NOBODY Is Happy

Last winter, I got a little frostbite on the tips of a couple of my toes.

I didn't really even notice it at the time. It was a really cold day, and I was wearing my sandals with two pairs of socks. I had not really checked the weather that morning, but was running late. My feet hurt when I left the house on the way to work, and when I finally got to work an hour later they felt like lumps of wet cold clay. I rubbed them until they started to hurt, and then rubbed them some more.

A couple of days later I rode outside again, and the tips of a few of my toes hurt ... a lot. This wasn't the kind of hurt that they get when they're cold, though; this was a "Aw, gee, you're doing this to me again" kind of hurt -- a whining, nagging kind of hurt that is going to regularly admonisher you for the rest of your life. My toes were making me feel as if I had missed the birth of my third child because I was off on a fishing trip with two high school buddies and an exotic dancer named "Sindy."

Those toes bitched all winter, then grumbled during the spring. They even gave me a few harsh looks on temperate mornings this past summer.

So, when fall came, and I told them to "Harden The Heck Up" ... or something to that effect ... they replied by hurting.

Well, I'm not one to argue with toes, so I bought a new pair of shoes. Yes: Not sandals. Shoes. With a solid surface covering the toes -- a thing for which shoes are semi-famous (and sandals are not). Said solid surface will supposedly retain heat, deflect cold, and protect tender toes.

I got the Specialized BG Pro Carbon Mountain Biking Shoe:

To give credit where it's due, I bought these based on the recommendation of another cycling blogger: Fat Cyclist. He got a pair of them about a year ago, and he does almost as many miles as I do and still loves them. I went over to Gran Fondo Cycles (a.k.a., the Greatest Bike Shop Ever in This or Most Other Known Universes ... and Some Universes that Not Even Stephen Hawking Has Theorized About), and they had one pair of these, and they were my size. That's what I call "fate."

Now, for years I have been a big proponent of wearing sandals for ultracycling. Most of the "real" ultracyclists that I know told me when I first started that sandals were more comfortable for distance rides. You don't get hot-foot with sandals (or, at least, you get less hot-foot). On wet rides, your socks dry out in sandals, as opposed to just getting musty and rotting your feet the way they do with shoes.

But sandals are heavy. When I went to work the next morning in my new Specialized shoes with their carbon fiber soles, I was amazed at the difference that a pound of weight loss on your foot can make. They don't squeak as much as my sandals do, either, which was kind of nice. And I'm not saying that I may not go back to sandals come spring ... but I do have to wonder.

It was 18 degrees outside when I left the house for work this morning. I had watched the weather, so I knew what to expect and had prepared properly ... particularly protecting my toes. Here's what I put on my feet:

1. Base pair of regular cycling socks
2. On top of the socks, near the tips of my toes, I stuck a chemical toe warmer.
3. On the bottom of the socks, I stuck a Grabber chemical foot warmer. These are kind of like shoe insoles, but hot.
4. Over this I put a pair of Rapha wool socks.
5. Then, finally, I put on my shoes.

All of this was accompanied by my Assos outerwear, of course, with bibs and a long-sleeve jersey underneath. Cold legs yield cold feet. If you don't think that running a warm fluid through a chilled tube (e.g., your legs en route to your feet) will chill that fluid, you do not understand how your car's radiator works.

The result of this swaddling? Happy feet. If anything, I had to hurry outside and start riding, since the chemical warmers sealed within the extra socks and solid shoes were starting to toast my toes.

Of course, the downsides are that it costs me almost $2 in chemical toe warmers to get to and from work, not to mention that it takes me an extra 15 minutes to layer up and strip back down for my commute. But if this will get my toes to shut up and forget about the fishing trip with Bud, Lou, and Sindy, I'll take it.

To Trot With Lights Not

The Turkey Trot 200K is kind of our last blow-out of the year ... at least for many randonneurs in Tennessee, Kentucky, Georgia, Alabama, and probably some other states. It's the last "official" brevet on many calendars, and it gives many riders a chance to work off some of their Thanksgiving excess. For some randonneurs, it's also a chance to take their significant others to Black Friday sales in Nashville, and then abandon them to follow-up shopping on Saturday.

Since I live less than five miles from the start, it's not that big of a deal to me. In fact, I haven't even done the ride for the past couple of years, due to one commitment or other ... or maybe just because the weather didn't look too good.

Either way, I was in town this year, and the weather was going to be chilly but dry, so I decided to ride. Also, I had a few Thanksgiving excesses to burn off my own self.

But as the day approached, I further decided that this was the year that I would finish the Turkey Trot in daylight.

The first year I did the Turkey Trot, I was new to randonneuring, and very slow. The second year, I wasn't as slow, but rode with someone else. The third year, I wasn't as slow and rode with a fast group -- which turned out to be too fast for me when I blew up after 75 miles.

But this year I've been pretty fast and pretty strong, so a Turkey Trot without lights seemed possible.

The ride begins at 7 am from the Brentwood YMCA on Concord Road. Since I live so close to the start, I got there about 20 minutes before, and leisurely got the bike ready, signed paperwork, and so forth. Since I hadn't hung around in the cold, I didn't know how all else was riding, but it looked like if I was going to be riding fast, I would be riding solo. So, when RBA Jeff Sammons told us to get moving, I took off and was soon alone.

The route went through Cool Springs, past the mall, and then over the big climb on Lynnwood Road. The climb took the edge off the cold, but the descent brought it right back. I was just settling in to a good rhythm, about 10 miles in, listening to my iPod, when I heard someone call my name. Up came Steve Phillips, George Hiscox, Jeremy Miller, Tom Gee, and Anthony Watts. They were moving at a good clip, so I joined up with them.

We made it through the first control on schedule, quickly topping up bottles and peeling off our last layer of clothing. The light wind had been in our teeth for much of the way, but as we turned south it freshened and moved us nicely along. I filmed the following right after we passed through White Bluff.

When we got to the next control, I was pretty sore. We started north again, fighting a little more wind as we passed through Theta and Thompson Station, and then had a better breeze for the leg to Bethesda. We paused there for a quick snack, but the cold was coming back as the afternoon waned. I was shivering as we mounted up again to do the last 20 miles.

About seven miles from the finish, I could feel my rear tire get spongy. My legs were pretty wiped out, too, and I fell off the back of the pack on Wilson Pike. The group eased up for me, however, and we were soon on the multi-use trail going through Concord Park, and finally returned to the parking lot of the YMCA.

There was plenty of sunlight, as you can see. It took 8:44, but it was a good 8:44.

Pictures of Peter

For the memorial service honoring Peter Lee this past Sunday, I put together the following video. The hard work for this was really done by our randonneuring friends, who went through all of their files and found every digital picture they had of Peter; Katy Lee, who loaned me a bunch of "paper" pictures (would those by "analog" then?) to scan; and long-time friend of the family Edward Zhuang, who put the music together. The songs are traditional Chinese songs for these types of occasions.

Critical Dogma: Assessing Your Worth

I was out riding with a friend at a group ride a couple of weeks ago, and we got to talking about new bikes. Now, for those of you who are not addicts, talking about buying a new bike is one of the staples of cycling conversation, usually being about topic number four in the standard litany:

1. Been riding much?
2. How'd you do in the flood? (This is mostly a Nashville thing, and a new entry in the list ... hopefully, it will soon go away.)
3. What's your "big ride event" this year?
4. When are you going to replace that piece of junk you're riding?
5. How's the job?
6. You have a family!?

And so on into other trivial things. Frankly, if the conversation gets to this point you probably need to go up front and push the pace. As Max Watzz would say, "Too much yammering, not enough hammering."

Anyway, my friend's bike is about five years old, which almost qualifies as "vintage" in many cycling circles. He makes good money and rides enough that he could easily justify buying a new bicycle. Perversely enough, he even knows what he wants.

He just doesn't think that he's worthy of it.

"I wish I could buy one of those," he said, motioning towards a club member's new Pinarello Dogma.

"Why don't you?"

"Awww, well ... you know," he said, grinning to himself. "People would laugh at me."

I gave him a look. "Why?"

"Well, it's just ... those are for racers," he answered. "I'm not fast enough for that."

Now, I'd like to say that my friend was just being nuts, but I understood where he was coming from. We've all seen the guy who is borderline morbidly obese, wearing the latest Radio Shack kit (size XXL), riding a top-of-the-line Scott racing frame with electronic Dura-Ace and Zipp 404 wheels built with a PowerTap hub. I don't think that I'm the only one who has had the fleeting thought:

He's not worthy.

And, at some level, maybe he's not. That's $10,000 worth of bike -- and probably not the best choice for this guy, based on comfort or dependability. He'd probably be a lot happier on one of the so-called "plush" bikes -- a little less responsive in the corners and in sprints, but a lot nicer on the posterior, back, and neck. Also, those wheels are not going to last very long under that much weight. And the PowerTap ... well, he can keep that, so long as he's working with somebody to analyze the numbers (and hopefully lose that weight).

Max Watzz would say, "Yeah, but you can't buy speed." Max is not entirely right in that regard, however. You can buy a lighter bike, and that will certainly get you over Roan Mountain quicker than that 27-pound hybrid you've been riding for the past 10 years.

I guess what I'm saying is that the XXL Radio Shack guy above can go ahead and buy whatever he wants, so long as he still pays his mortgage and feeds his family. I'm pretty sure that, if he went to my favorite bike shop, they would try to push him in the direction of something that he would enjoy riding that would last for at least a few years, but I'm also sure that, ultimately, if he had his heart set on that sub-UCI weight limit race bike, they would sell it to him. It's kind of what they're in the business to do.

So I kept trying to talk my friend into buying the Dogma, telling him all the stuff I'd read about it in Bicycling magazine. As I went on, I found that I was talking myself into one, too ... or at least a new racing bike. My Bianchi is almost five years old, and I wouldn't mind trying some light carbon fiber toy. And this got me to thinking:

Am I Dogma worthy?

Sadly, the answer is "No." Sure, the Bianchi could be 3-4 pounds lighter, but so could I. It's a good, stiff, comfortable, and fairly light frame, and everything on it is in great condition. But the bottom line right now is, it's all I need.

Maybe I'll be Dogma worthy come Christmas, though ...

The Michelangelo of Road Hickeys

Lately, it seems that I've spent more time painting roads than riding my bike over them.

Well, not painting the entire road of course. That would be silly. Although I must admit that there are times when I wish that I had enough paint to put down a really good, smoothing base layer on some crappy roads. I would put an extra 50 coats on the rumble strips, until they were really just mild divots rather than the filling-shaking craters that so many are. And the surface prep would entail sweeping all of the gravel, broken glass, dead armadillos, and thrown retreads off of the shoulder, so that cyclists could ride there and maybe avoid being run over by truck drivers who don't slow down when the sun blinds them.

But I don't have enough time or paint to do that, so the world will just have to settle for well-marked routes. For example, here's one of the arrows that I put down for the Pancake Route, which the Harpeth Bicycle Club runs every Sunday during the season from Franklin, TN, to Leiper's Fork.

Nice, huh? I put down the blue first, and then used a couple of stencils for the yellow arrow that I sprayed on top. I took the opposite approach to mark the HBC's Tuesday night route in Cool Springs.

For these, I drove the course and painted a yellow arrow, using the stencil, at every turn and major road crossing. I also put an arrow at every mile, so that if anybody goes for more than a mile without seeing an arrow, they will know that they are lost.

After I put down the yellow arrow, I went back over the course with a smaller arrow stencil and painted it blue, green, or blue/green. The color depends upon the route, since there's a 20-mile and a 25-mile route. The blue/green pictured indicates that the routes are together at this point.

Yes, these took a lot of paint and time, but these are routes that the bike club will use every week from April through October. Conservatively speaking, I would guess that during the course of this period at least 500 cyclists will ride each of these routes. I don't want them to get lost.

Of course, you're probably thinking now, "RandoBoy, there are cue sheets for these routes, with turn-by-turn directions." Yes, that is correct, but I rarely see anyone on these rides with the cue sheet clipped to their handlebars. In fact, it's pretty rare for me to see someone come to a stop, pull a cue sheet out of their pocket, and check that. The norm seems to be that we all just follow someone who's done the route ... or someone who we hope has done the route. This can result in a cyclist lemming thing, where you find yourself hours later in Hohenwald, TN, and the guy that you've been following turns into his driveway, and you suddenly realize that he's not with your group, and you are lost -- 50 miles from your car.

Marking the route may take extra time, but it often avoids these problems. When someone calls my cell phone from Hohenwald and says, "I'm lost ... can you come get me?" I could be a shmuck and tell them, "No ... I gave you a cue sheet, and you should have followed it." But I'm not that kind of shmuck, and would probably drive down to Hohenwald to get them. But if I paint the route and they still get lost, I can tell them "I gave you a cue sheet AND painted the route ... how could you get lost?!" and then refuse to come get them.

Yeah, right ...

So, anyway, this past Saturday, RandoGirl and I marked the 50-mile and 26-mile routes that will be used at the Tennessee Tandem Rally, June 4-6.

These are the main routes to be used on Saturday before lunch at Tap Root Farms, and take the riders from the hotel (Embassy Suites in Cool Springs) down to Rudderville and Arno. The 50-mile route continues on further south to skirt past College Grove, go over Pulltight Hill, and then come back through Bethesda. It includes this excellent road that I found a few months back, called Choctaw Road.

Pretty, hunh?

While we were marking the way up Pulltight, I passed by marks that I had made when I painted for the HBC's April picnic. That day, the riders came down Pulltight going away from Bethesda, so I painted a warning near the bottom to let them know about the stop sign just around the corner.

If you read it as a pedestrian, it says "Up Stop," which doesn't make a lot of sense. If you read it as a cyclist going downhill at 35 mph, you see "Stop" first, and then "Up." This way, you know that there's a stop up. Even if this bit of un-scientific assumption on my part doesn't hold true, most people are at least going to pause to ponder what the cryptic message means, and will hopefully slow down a bit. If they instead just get distracted by the message and zoom through the stop sign, across the road, and into the hillside beyond to be flattened like the Coyote in a Road Runner cartoon ... well, maybe you shouldn't be on a bicycle.

Here's what I painted for the picnic folks when they were climbing Pulltight Hill.

When they get to the top, they see this.

The message is that there's an angry orange man being attacked by worms at the bottom of the hill, but the man will morph into a smiling orange woman will blonde hair when he (she) gets to the top. If this distracts the rider from the pain of climbing Pulltight Hill, then I have been successful.

On rides that I mark but will not be riding, I often paint cryptic notes. I knew that RandoGirl would be sweeping the picnic route, so I painted this.

This is about 40-miles into that picnic route, and I was off doing the TN 400K, so she probably needed to be reminded of this.

But, back to this past Saturday ...

The floodwaters have receded, and although a lot of roads and bridges were damaged and a lot of my friends lost all or part of their homes, Mother Nature seems to have rebounded. The soaking had everything blooming, so that the world was green with lots of yellow:

Or it was green with lots of red:

I felt a little guilty out riding in the countryside Saturday while so many people were working hard to put their lives together after the floods, but this was the only date that I have open for a while to paint this route. I hope that everyone who couldn't get out this past weekend will enjoy these pictures, and will remember that the world is still a beautiful place which will be ready for them to come ride in again soon. After you've got things back into a semblance of order, I invite everyone to come and ride the routes that RandoGirl and I marked this past Saturday.



It will be a great way to sweep the last of the floodwaters out of your brain.

Bike-to-Work Day Is Coming!

I have this dream ...

I'm biking in to work. It's a beautiful day in May -- warm enough that I just need a light jacket for the ride in, which means that the temperature will be perfect for the afternoon ride home. The birds are singing, the bees are buzzing, and the dogs aren't chasing me. I'm on my usual route, about 6:30 in the morning, and I see the first vehicle of the day ... someone else going to work.

They're on a bike.

As I go on, I see more and more people riding their bikes to work, or to school, or to a dentist appointment, or to do some shopping. There are no cars, just people on bikes. We wave to each other, call out "Good mornings!" and smile, and nobody passes too closely or cuts anybody off or rings their handlebar bell in any way that could possibly be considered malicious or mean.

There are no cars on Old Hickory Boulevard, so I don't have to get on the sidewalk there as I head for Panera Bread and my breakfast scone. I ride on a real road, with only my fellow bicycles around me. We are laughing and riding our bikes and enjoying this incredible world in which we are all so fortunate to live.

Then, I go into work and I realize that I'm back in high school, taking the SATs, and I only have pens instead of Number 2 pencils. Oh, and I'm naked.

We've all had that dream, right? Or at least the first part? (For those that have had the second part, explain why I'm wearing clown shoes.) Well, we're only a couple of weeks away from the day on which that dream (again, only the first part) can come true ...

Bike-to-Work Day!

According to the League of American Bicyclists, May is National Bike Month, the week of May 17-21 is Bike-to-Work Week, and (logically enough) May 21 is Bike-to-Work Day.

What does this mean? Obviously, it means that you should, on May 21, talk like a pirate. Oh, wait. That's September 19. On May 21, you should ride your bicycle to work!


Now, I know that you have perfectly good excuses for not biking in to work. It's too far, or you have to wear a suit, or there's no place to put your bike, or your job requires that you drive door-to-door selling the Handy-Dandy Vacuum Cleaner. Last year, I gave you two blogs of ways to overcome most of these limitations. I can't do anything about that vacuum job, though, except to advise you not to sell one to Lucy Ricardo, over at 623 E. 68th Street. She's wacky!



Anyhow, since I've already told you how to plan your route and what you need to bike in to work, why aren't you already doing it? Obviously, it's because you need ...

More Tips

• Google Maps is actually a pretty good start. It often doesn't know about multi-use trails or other available shortcuts, and it seems to think that just because a road has been named a Bike Route by the state of Tennessee it should be safe for bicycles (give the software developers a break -- they live in California). Also, it tends to put in a lot of extraneous turns as it tries to wind your way places without putting you on the larger roads. Nonetheless, the directions that it yields are better for cyclists that what you get out of plan old Google map directions.
• Go early. Sunrise on May 21 is 5:37 am, when there are barely any cars out there. Yeah, you'll probably get to work really early, but hopefully that means that you can leave work early. If not, you've burned the calories, so go get some breakfast. Just don't beat me to my Three-Seed Demi at Panera.

• Bring a friend. If you have a cycling friend that lives near you who works in the same area, ride in together. Two bikers are more visible than one, and the company will make things more fun.

If you don't know somebody, the Harpeth Bicycle Club will be helping to coordinate group commutes for its members on Bike-to-Work Day. I personally will be leading a pack from Franklin, up through Brentwood and on to the state capital in Nashville. Rumor has it that Karl Dean will then present me the key to the city ... or maybe just give us all a free sample-size packet of Chamois Butt'r.


At least that would fit on my bike.

The Perfect Storm

Just in case you missed it, we had some bizarre weather here in Tennessee this past weekend. Creeks, rivers, and lakes flooded from 15 inches of rain, killing at least 12 people and doing millions of dollars in damage. Officials are saying this may be the worst flooding in the state's history, and that it may take years to repair the devastation.

The weird thing was that it didn't rain at Three-State Three-Mountain.

This was my fifth time doing 3S3M. In 2006, my first time, it was really nice and dry. In 2007, we had some early sprinkles and cloud cover, but that helped me do my first sub-6-hour finish there.

In 2008, the skies opened up. RandoGirl and I opted for the metric, and I rode my single-speed commuter. The fenders made me very popular.

In 2009, history repeated itself and the skies opened up. This time, however, RandoGirl would not be denied her opportunity to climb Burkhalter Gap Road, and we did the full century. Fortunately, the rain stopped more or less after the first 50 miles, so we had a decent ride.

But we decided then and there that we were not going to do this ride in the rain again. To avoid this, we did not register early this year, and we did not reserve a hotel room. As this past weekend approached, we began applauding our vision, since the forecast for the southeastern United States was a weekend of rain.

That was the first part of my perfect storm of pain.

You see, as this past weekend approached, I began to think that I was riding pretty well. My legs felt good, my weight was right, and I was playing with the thought of a new personal best at 3S3M.

Just playing, mind you ... I was not going to commit. And that was the second part of my storm of pain.

So, Thursday night, I did the Harpeth Bicycle Club's regular ride. I wasn't going to go hard, even though it didn't look like the weekend weather would work out for 3S3M. Frankly, my legs were still tired from last weekend's fleche.

But, going up Carter's Creek Pike, a couple of fast guys went off the front. Like an idiot, I went with them. Then, like another idiot, I suggested we go up Wilkins Branch. Finally, like the King of Idiots, I suggested we come back on Old Hillsboro, since Boyd Mill Road is so bumpy that you can't go fast on that.

Friday morning, my legs were shredded. I crawled out of bed, got some breakfast, turned on the weather, and heard the weatherman predict that the rain might hold off until Saturday afternoon.

Now, at this point, a sane man listens to his legs and stays home for the weekend. Me? I put on my biking clothes and rode in to work. Then I rode over to Vanderbilt Medical Center in the afternoon to see my friend, Peter Lee, who is recovering from surgery there. Then I rode home.

A 40-mile recovery ride. Smart.

By Friday night the weather forecast was good for Chattanooga on Saturday morning, but not so good for Nashville. RandoGirl thought about joining me, and then thought better. She does that.

Which is how the last part of the perfect storm hit, with me driving down from Nashville to Chattanooga at 4 am, signing up, and sitting at the front of the starting pack at 7:30.

My legs felt heavy, but generally okay for the first 40 miles. I made it over the first mountain, Suck Creek, just behind the lead pack. They descended better than I, and so I settled into the next pack. We passed the "decision point" -- go left for the metric, or straight for the full 100 miles -- and half a dozen of that group turned off. I kept going straight into the belly of the storm of the century.

I fell off that pack just before we got to the second state (Alabama). My legs were more than heavy now -- the quadriceps were lead, and the calves were CroMoly. Another group came by, and I worked with them up the second mountain: Sand.

Everything hurt by this point, and I finally stopped for water and a break at the rest area at mile 60. After five minutes, two other guys were ready to roll on, and we headed for our third state: Georgia. After eight miles of working into a stiff headwind, we turned left for a fast section to a little descent, heading towards the final mountain.

Again, I fell off on the descent, mostly because my legs had gone from being lead to feeling like spent uranium control rods. I could turn them over, but not with any "oomph" at all. At mile 75, I was riding by myself, in no man's land, with nothing in the furnace.

With only five miles before Burkhalter Gap Road -- the short, tough climb up the last of the mountains, Lookout -- I eased back and began budgeting my remaining energy. The following thought kept going through my head: "I've never walked Burkhalter before. I ain't gonna do it today."

I got to the base of that climb 4:20 into my ride. I got to the top -- about 2.5 miles later -- at 4:50. It was done on the bike, and it was all done really slowly.

With just over 15 miles left, I topped off my bottles and rolled on. The remaining miles up on top of Lookout Mountain are always kind of rolly, and will wear you down. I had nothing left to wear down, so I just gutted it out until I found a small group to work with. This ragged band dissolved as soon as we started down the mountain towards Chattanooga, and I motored the last couple of miles through the city back to the stadium.

The elapsed-time clock read 5:43 as I rolled in. It was a new personal best -- just not as good a personal best as I had hoped.

Driving back, I felt as if I had sort of failed. Of course, the flooding here has since put things back into perspective. I did my best -- I just didn't plan very smart. But I've lived to ride another day, and maybe next time I'll leave some gas in the tank before I start the ride.

Keeping the Air Inside

As I mentioned in my last post, I had some trouble this past weekend keeping air where I wanted it to be -- namely, inside my tire. I've had a few issues along these lines lately, which got me to thinking about ways to avoid flats, ways to fix them, and ways to fix them that keep them fixed.

There are probably thousands of  great tips for changing tires and fixing flats, just as there are thousands of horror stories for flats. I once spent over an hour at a rest stop near Columbia, TN, going through five tubes changing a flat. David Bauer's flats fiasco at Paris-Brest-Paris in 2007 are almost the stuff of legend. I invite everyone to post their "favorite" flat tip or horror story below, primarily because misery loves company.

An Ounce of Prevention

First, be prepared. Before you go for a ride, make sure that your tires are inflated properly.

How much is "proper," you ask? That depends. You want enough pressure that hitting a pothole will not deform the tire and tube to a degree that the rim will hit, because this is how you get a pinch flat. However, you don't want so much pressure that you blow the tire off the rim, or that you even make your ride horribly uncomfortable and immediately sell your bike on eBay ... although, this would keep you from having any more flats.

Play with your tire pressure until you find the right balance. Then, be willing to adjust it when the weather changes and you are wearing and/or carrying more/less, or when you go on a tour and pack 45 pounds in your panniers, or after a huge Christmas dinner at Aunt Myrtle's. That 95 psi sweet spot may need to go over 100 when you're fully loaded.

Second, use the right tires. I love Continental Ultra Gatorskins -- particularly 700x25Cs. They are wonderfully puncture-resistant, have a great tread, the sidewall is very strong, and they don't weigh so much that you feel like you're riding through sand. I can only fit up to 25Cs on my Lynskey, or I would be tempted to run something wider.

Max Watzz does not use Gatorskins. Why? Because he's never so far from home that a serious cut in his tire will give him trouble. He has RandoGirl on speed-dial, and since he's cuter than I am, she will even go fetch him.

Third, bring the right stuff. For a 200K or less, bring at least one spare tube, a patch kit, a C02 inflator, two cartridges, and a tire lever or two. Put these in half of a tube sock, and stuff it all in the under-the-seat bag. The half-sock will keep things tidy and organized, gives you something to wipe your hands on afterwards, and can help you diagnose the issue.

What about a boot, you ask? If you're just doing a 200K, you can usually make your own boot from stuff along the side of the road, a dollar bill, or a gel wrapper, so you may not need to bother.

For longer rides, bring more stuff. If I'm going over 200K, I put my Arkel Tail Rider on the rear rack. In there, I keep two more spare tubes (in their own socks, thank you very much), rubber gloves, a "real" patch kit (with glue and everything -- as opposed to the instant patches in the under-the-seat bag), and a boot. I also carry the frame pump on longer rides, since this keeps me from worrying about running out of C02 cartridges.

After last weekend, I'm adding a spare folding Gatorskin and rim tape. Better to have it and not need it than to need it and not have it.

A Pound of Cure

So now you're prepared. This doesn't mean that you won't get the flat, of course. Even Gatorskins are only puncture-resistant ... not puncture-proof.

When you flat, here's how you fix the tire in such a way that (hopefully) it will stay fixed.

1. If the flat is on the rear wheel, shift into your highest gear.
2. Hang the bike by it's saddle on something, lay it on it's side (drive side up), or let a friend hold it. Do not turn your bike upside down. It can scrape up your brake hoods, get dirt in your shifters, and does not look "pro."
3. Open the brakes, flip open the quick-release, and remove the wheel.
4. Let the rest of the air out of the tire.
5. Hook the "scoopy" side (not the hook side on Park or the slotted side on Pedro's) of the tire lever under the bead, grab the tire right next to this with your free hand, and then push the tire tool away from you so that it continues to run under the bead. On Mavic Open Pro rims and Gatorskins, this will unseat the bead from the rim as you go along. On other tires and rims, it may not. Sorry about that.


6. Leave the other bead of the tire on the rim for now, and pull the tube out. I like to start at the tube stem, but it's up to you.
7. Find the hole in the tube. If this is a huge gaping hole, thank your lucky stars that you didn't crash (if you did crash ... well, again, sorry). If it's not a big hole, you may have to pump some air into the tube and listen for the "hssssss." Sometimes you can work the tube around and feel the air on your cheek, and sometimes just the act of working the tube around in your hand will put a finger over the "hsssss" and turn it into a whistle.
8. Is it one hole or two? If there are two holes next to one another -- so that it looks as if a snake bit your tire -- it was probably a pinch flat. These are caused by not having enough air in the tire for the road surface, or just hitting a pothole or rock or something really hard. Of course, it could have actually been a snake that bit your tire. A friend of mine in Florida had one try this -- the snake missed and did not fare well in the spokes.
9. If it's one hole, figure out where the hole in the tube corresponds to the tire (if you're wondering how to know, I will give you a tip below). There should be a piece of glass, wire, rock, abalone shell, or something in the tire there. If not, it may have fallen out already. This happens, but will leave you feeling uneasy for at least 15 miles.
10. If the hole seems like it would be more on the rim side than the tire side, pull the tire the rest of the way off the rim and check the rim.
11. If you haven't found the problem in the tire and/or rim, you will have to feel for it instead. This is another time when that half tube sock comes in handy. Running that around in the inside of the tire and rim can keep you from getting cut by the wire, glass, etc. Even better, it will also often snag on the offending puncture-producer when you can't feel it, putting a thread "flag" on your problem.
12. If you can remove the sharp thing, do so. If you can't, put something over it to protect the tube. This may be a boot, a cut-up old inner tube, a gel wrapper, a piece of a plastic bottle ... whatever will protect the tube without creating another hole.
13. If you pulled the tire off the rim, put one bead back on. While doing this, ensure that the label of the tire (where it says Continental Ultra-Gatorskin 700x25C, for example) is centered above the hole in the rim where your inner tube inflation stem goes. Why? Because doing this lets you know how the tire was aligned with the tube the next time you have to find the piece of glass that flatted you. Also, it just looks more "pro."

14. Put some air in the new tube (enough to give it a semblance of shape).
15. Hold the wheel horizontal, with the "free" (e.g., loose) bead of the tire up.
16. Put the tube stem in the rim hole, and slowly work the tube around so that it is now lying in the tire. Isn't that much easier when you hold the wheel horizontally?
17. Starting anywhere (I like to begin close to the stem), use your thumbs to push the free bead of the tire in to be captured by the rim. Either work both hands outward from a single location, or keep a captured portion in place with one hand while you work around with the other. It's like tucking in a fitted sheet on a bed -- once you get half of it in, the rest will come.
18. The last bit of the tire is usually more difficult. Use both thumbs if you can, or grab the wheel with your whole hand and use the bottom of your palms to push the last of the bead, rolling it over with your wrist as if you were kneading dough. As a last resort, you can use the tire lever, but I've had this ruin all my work by puncturing the tube and/or pinching it under the tire bead.
19. Inflate the tire halfway, and then check to ensure that you got the bead seated under the rim all the way around the tire, on both sides. If not, you'll see a bulge. If you inflate it fully like this, the bulge can blow the tube. If it doesn't, it still makes for an uncomfortable ride. If there's a bulge, deflate the tube a bit and get the bead under the rim.
20. With the tire properly seated, finish inflating the tube to the proper pressure, put the tire back on, close the brakes, close the quick release, make sure everything is spinning right, put all of your tools and stuff back where it's supposed to be, and ride on.

One last tip: Put the old tube in that half sock and put it back in the bag. Something may come up later where you need it, such as cutting it up for a boot, patching it when you run out of spares, or using it as a tourniquet after a badger bites you. If nothing does, you can patch it when you get home, or at least dispose of it properly.

Patched tubes are the best things to carry on long rides, because as part of the patching process you will check to make sure that it holds air. We've all pulled tubes out of the box only to find that there was something wrong with them. Once a tube is patched, it is actually better than new.

Some other good references:

• Sheldon Brown
• Park Tools's Website
• YouTube Video

The Picnic in the Trunk

A lot of folks have asked what randonneurs eat on long rides. Generally, I would say that, without exception successful randonneurs eat. They eat a lot.

Actually, some of them drink instead. Alex Meade from Kentucky is about as fast as anybody, and he does most of his rides on liquid fuels. He may use Perpetuem and Sustained Energy, as my friend Jeff Bauer did for much of RAAM, but I'm not sure what mix it is or how he does it. Alex is so fast that I've never been able to ride with him for very long.

In general, most of the fast guys fuel similar to the way that racers do -- probably because most of them used to race. They'll have gels in their back pockets that they consume on a regular basis, and either chase it with sports drink or with water to which they've added electrolytes, sugars, and/or protein.

On brevets, we stop at a lot of convenience store controls on the route and get our cards signed. The very fast folks will also buy a bottle of water and/or sports drink, which they mix up while standing in the check-out line and waiting for the clerk to write his initials and the time. These riders are usually back on their bike, pedaling furiously for the next control, in less than five minutes.

It makes me tired just to think about it.

Some of the fast folks will grab something quick at the store. If it's not hot out, many like to drink a small bottle of chocolate milk. I often do this and buy a candy bar to eat on the road. I also top off my bottles, either with water or sports drink ... although later in the ride I may put in a soft drink or lemonade.

Alan Gosart and Bill Glass both like to carry sandwiches with them -- usually peanut butter and jelly or honey. For the 400K last weekend, I started with a whole grain bagel in my back pocket, into which I had spread peanut butter (actually Peanut Butter and Company's Mighty Maple ... yummy) and a banana. From a nutritional standpoint, this is a pretty good option: Sugars (both simple and complex, for immediate but long-lasting energy), protein, fat, potassium, fiber ... and good taste.

On cold mornings, I love to start a ride from my house with a breakfast of pancakes. If you make extras, you can put honey or peanut butter or Nutella on them, roll them up, and wrap them in tin foil. It's easy to fit two or three of these in your back pocket, so that later in the morning you can pull one out, unwrap the top like a burrito, and eat some tasty fuel. Since it's in your back pocket, it's nice and warm, and the foil keeps it un-messy. It's like having a picnic lunch in your trunk.

All of these are great food choices for "short" stuff -- 200K and 300K rides. But if a ride goes longer than 12 hours, you generally have to change things up a bit. This is where the ubiquitous Subway comes in handy. A turkey and swiss sandwich with lots of lettuce and stuff is just the ticket for me after eight hours of Gatorade G2 and pocket food. It's also nice to get off the bike, stand in line for a few minutes, and then sit down and scarf the sandwich before moving on.

I'm pretty lucky in that I can generally ride on after eating most foods. This past weekend, when Jeff Sammons and I stopped for lunch in South Pittsburg, I had a big cheeseburger and french fries. When we stopped for dinner, we split a 15" pizza with sausage, pepperoni, and onions. Did I feel bloated when we then cycled on? Not a bit.

Of course, this changes if it's hot outside. I try to avoid heavy foods when the temperature is over 90 F -- at least, when cycling. In this kind of weather, I also try to drink a Diet Coke at most controls. For some reason, this cuts the sugary taste that Gatorade leaves in my mouth, and the carbonation helps avoid stomach problems. It also just tastes good, and always cools me down.

Anyway, these are just a few options. As always, put some Tums, Rolaids, and Zantac in your bag just in case. They're small, they can help fight cramps, and you never know what's gonna help when that corn dog from the convenience store starts barking again.

The Longest 25 Miles ... Ever!

About 5:20 pm, right after I climbed back over Lookout Mountain, I realized that I only had 100 miles left in the Tennessee Spring 400K, and over 15 hours to do it in. "Plenty of time," I thought.

Those words would haunt me, as would the beautiful blue eyes of the woman that killed me.

But, maybe I should start at the beginning ...

It was a Saturday, and I was getting up way too early. My name's RandoBoy, and I'm a private detective in the city that never sleeps. Well, okay, I'm actually just another idiot randonneur that was riding a 400K out of Manchester, TN -- a city that actually does sleep, although there are still people driving down 41A at 3 am.

But I'm getting ahead of myself, again.

Chris Quirey (left) and George Hiscox Reflecting Light

Eight of us rolled out of the parking lot of the sumptuous Manchester Ramada Inn (I stayed across the street at the Comfort Suites, and considered myself rather sage in that regard). We set a quick pace over the relatively flat terrain, but these were probably some of the best ultracyclists in the area (well, except for me), and we all worked well together.

I meant to just get a picture of my lovely shoulder. Manly.

We first went up to McMinnville, which is the "Nursery Capital of the World." Zipping down the quiet early morning roads, we passed nursery after nursery -- man's attempt to not only impose a form of order on the universe, but (in the classic American way) make a buck at it in the process. My favorite nursery was "Dry Shave Mountain Nursery." There's gotta be a good story behind that.

Soon, we were starting the first climb of the day, up to the ridge at Beersheba Springs, TN. It was here that I first noticed that, with my Light and Motion Stella on top of my helmet, I was casting the shadow of Marvin the Martian.

"Ooh. You make me so angry!"

The climb managed to warm us all up enough to shed the first of many layers of clothing at the control. I drank a chocolate milk, topped off a bottle, and was ready to go.

David Nixon and Wendy Gardiner in Beersheba Springs

I was mostly hanging with Middle Tennessee RBA Jeff Sammons, who has been riding very strongly this year. He is heading out west in June to do the Cascade 1200K, and should do well.

Jeff on another interminable climb. He had all kinds of stuff in those bags.

The group separated leaving Beersheba Springs, but soon came back together as we rode along the ridge. We then descended back to the valley for a few miles, before climbing back onto the same ridge on the way to the Summerfield, TN control. As we started up this climb, I was riding with Steve Phillips, and Max Watzz took over for a bit. He burned a few matches (I never know what he means when he says this ... I don't even carry matches in my brevet bag) but took the KOM points at the top of that climb. Then, as Max loves to do, he disappeared, leaving me with two legs that were now just big lactic acid bags.

Everybody else was very quick getting in and out of Summerfield, but Jeff and I were now ready for a kindler gentler ride. We still set a good pace on the long road down to the South Pittsburg, TN, control, so that when we stopped for lunch before 1 pm we had ridden finished the first 100 miles of the ride.

Jeff had the catfish plate. I had a cheeseburger and a piece of cake. Nom nom.

From South Pittsburgh we soon crossed into Alabama (Jeff took the two-man state line sprint), and then began to climb Sand Mountain. At this point, we were on the 3-State 3-Mountain course, a very popular ride put on by the Chattanooga Bike Club. Whether this climb over Sand Mountain is tougher than the shorter but steeper infamous Burkhalter Gap climb on that 3S3M is a matter of frequent debate.

View towards South Pittsburgh (notice the bridge?) from near top of Sand Mountain

Once over Sand Mountain, we descended into Trenton, GA, stopping at a convenience store to get some fuel. I was pretty sleepy by now, and actually fell asleep for a minute while sitting on the sidewalk outside. I knew that soon I would need caffeine.

Right after Trenton, we began our first climb over Lookout Mountain. This climb seemed interminable -- a perception that was not helped by the volume of vehicles zooming up past us. The road was in good shape, the grade was not too bad, and Trenton is right on I-59, so I guess we should have expected all of the cars. It was, nonetheless, less pleasant than it should have otherwise been.

On top of Lookout Mountain, just before the descent to the Cooper Heights, GA control, we started to see the other riders returning on this out-and-back leg.

Hey, slowpokes!

First we saw David.

Beat me on a climb, willya ...

Followed closely by Steve.

Did you see a guy up there wearing a jersey like mine?

Then Wendy.

Flashing a peace sign, or a two-barreled fingerbang. You decide.

And then George.

We also saw Jon Pasch just before we began descending, and Chris halfway down, but by then we were moving too fast for me to pull out the camera.

The Cooper Heights control was another convenience store, but it quickly became apparent that this was the store at which the local sheriff's deputies deposited the drunks when they let them out on Saturday night to go visit their momma's on Sunday, so Jeff and I ate some chips, topped off our bottles, and headed back from whence we had so recently descended. Once back on top, we were blessed with a tailwind as we quickly crossed the mountain and headed down and back into Trenton.

Jeff becomes reflective in preparation for the coming evening. Note the bag by his rear wheel -- there's a beer in there

The climb back up Sand Mountain was one of the ride's easiest, and we rode hard to try to get to Stevenson, AL before dark. We didn't quite make it, but we did get to do the long descent down to the Tennessee River with enough light out to enjoy it. Once in Stevenson, we cleared the control and went in search of pizza. Jeff didn't at first think that we could eat a 15" pie. He was wrong.

It was starting to get chilly, so we had put all of our clothes from that morning back on as we rolled out into the Alabama night. After interminable twists and turns, we finally started the last long climb of this route, heading back up the ridge on AL-33. This was probably the hardest of the climbs, but since it was dark I was able to settle in to a good rhythm and just keep spinning.

Finally at the top, the night was getting even colder as we continued on AL-33 to AL-79, where the pavement became a little better. At this point, the 200+ miles was beginning to have its impact on the portions of one's anatomy that are most impacted upon by a bicycle ridden for that distance, and as the road became TN-16 and we left the rough Alabama roads behind, my behind became almost happy.

This stretch was an interminable undulating 25 miles on top of the cold ridge, and you felt as if you were in the middle of nowhere. For a while, I marveled at how clear the sky was and how many stars were visible. Then, I tried to stand and stretch my hamstrings and calves on the short climbs, and tuck in and rest my neck and shoulders on the descents. Eventually, though, I just resorted to gutting it out, getting this part of the road done with, and counting down the miles to the next control.

Soon, we were doing the very steep, very fast descent into Winchester, TN, where Jeff and I stopped for a hot coffee before heading back out for the last, mostly flat 22 miles. The pavement was again rather sketchy -- and problem compounded in the dark by the fact that you can't really anticipate things -- and it was just as cold in the valley as it had been on the ridge. But the coffee woke me up, and we made good time, finally getting back to Manchester just before 3:30 am.

Okay, so there wasn't a beautiful blue-eyed woman on the ride -- that would be RandoGirl, who I called the next morning to let her know I made it. And she didn't kill me, either; right now, I think the ride did that.

Pain is just weakness leaving the body. All of my weakness must be out there on the road now.

My New Old Bike

You know how it is when you get a different haircut or a new suit (back in the days when we used to wear suits to work and certain parties), and you feel like a totally different person? There's probably not a guy out there who hasn't put on a tuxedo, looked in the mirror, and felt like James Bond. You either smirk and say "Vodka martini ... shaken, not stirred" or fingerbang the reflection with a Walther PPK.

Licensed to Climb

My Bianchi feels like that right now.

Well, okay, it's not really my Bianchi -- it's Max Watzz's Bianchi. There's not much "RandoBoy" left to this machine, other than the fact that the frame is made of titanium. Max would probably like carbon fiber, like a Pinarello Dogma, but he's got to settle for what he gets.

And, frankly, what he's getting here is pretty nice.

The only thing different about it is the wheels and the saddle. I'm also going to put different handlebars on it, so that I can put clip-on aerobars on for time-trials.

The wheels are Reynolds Strike carbon clinchers, which weigh 1705 grams per set. With the bike on the work stand, I put the wheels on and gave them a spin Wednesday. I think they're still going.

The saddle is also not a RandoBoy saddle -- for distance, I've found the love of my life in the Terry Liberator Race Ti. Max will be using the Fizik Antares. Of course, he probably won't be on it for more than 60-70 miles at a time, and for that short a distance it shouldn't matter.

So, how much does this bad boy weigh now? 19 pounds. Yeah, that's not exactly encroaching on the UCI limit or anything, but it's lighter than any bike I've ever ridden.

Does it make a difference? Well, Wednesday, after I put it all together, I took a quick spin through the neighborhood over to the "tough" hill. It's not long, but it's steep enough. My speed never fell below 17 mph.

Of course, on the descent down the other side the wind was brutal, and those deep-section wheels caught all of it. It probably didn't help that the bike was so light, either, but I was feeling the wind a lot more than I used to on that bike.

In that way, this thing is a lot like a tuxedo. It will be fun to put on and play at being fast, but when it comes to doing real work give me jeans and a t-shirt.

What a Weekend!

Some pictures from the ride I lead for my bike club in Leiper's Fork on Saturday, and from the club's Pancake Ride on Sunday.

Saturday, on top of Greenbriar Road. It was raining at 9 am, stopped by 10 am when we rolled out, and was incredible the rest of the day.

Steve and Joyce Grizzle on their tandem, and Jill Flowers on her bike, at the turn onto Vestal Hollow Road. I spent the rest of the day trying to hang onto the back of the train behind the tandem. Unfortunately, I rode my single-speed, so that any time I got gapped, I was gone. Since this was too much work for me to do and take pictures, there are no more pictures.

Regina Jensen handing out Easter chocolate before Sunday's Pancake Ride.

It's called the Pancake Ride because we go to Puckett's Grocery in Leiper's Fork, where we are supposed to eat pancakes, and then retrace our route back. I rarely see any of the cyclists eat pancakes, since we're all too busy watching our weight. Regina had a hard time even getting people to finish the candy and cookies.

RandoGirl needed to ride at least 60 for the day, and the Pancake Ride route is only 25 miles. We added an extra 35+ miles by going down to Fly. At the base of Doug Thompson Road is a farm with these adorable miniature ponies. Everybody now: Aahhhhh.

Here we are hanging out on the front porch of Mr. Fly's store.

They were doing something called a Wagon Train in Leiper's Fork, and we passed this on Leiper's Creek Road just south of there.

Alice Forrester and RandoGirl, living the dream.

Nothing Miles

I got a wonderful present Friday: A surprise day off.

The head of my department sent out a message Thursday afternoon telling everybody who didn't have pressing business to take the day, but I had a couple of meetings so went ahead and biked in. The ride in that morning was great, and right after I got in each of my meetings cancelled. I was biking back home just after 9:30.

By then the day had gotten decently warm, and during the ride I concocted a plan: I would go home, grab some cans of paint, stuff them in a pannier, and go back out and mark a route that my bike club plans to use next weekend. I didn't even have to go in the house, and by 10:30 I was headed for the route.

On the way, Max Watzz popped into my head with a question: "How hard should we ride this today?" He was concerned that we would go out of his "recovery threshold" (whatever that means), since he had done "jumps" with my legs the night before.

"I don't know. I guess these are maybe Endurance Miles or Foundation Miles," I told Max. He grumbled something about "muscles only growing when you let them rest."

Then I started thinking about it, though, and I decided that I didn't feel like Endurance Miles or Foundation Miles or Recovery Miles. I decided right then that today's ride was Nothing Miles. There was no training goal for my time on a bicycle -- I was just enjoying a beautiful day in lovely countryside, spraying the road with paint to tell other cyclists which way to turn.

I quickly marked the 12-mile route, and then started off on the 32- and 50-mile routes. I stopped at Black Dog Store in Rudderville to fill my bottle and eat some pretzels, chatting with the folks who were coming and going. "Nice day to be out for a ride," they'd say. "The best," I replied.

Chuck Dunn illustrates the proper way to hang out in front of a store on a ride

There was a nasty headwind going down Arno Road, and then on to Bethesda, but it was more of a crosswind as I headed up Pulltight and on to Peytonsville. Going up towards College Grove it became a full-blown tailwind, and I effortlessly cruised at 30 mph. Stopping at the grocery store in College Grove, I refilled the bottle again and had a mini-chess pie with a Diet Sun Drop, sitting on the bench out front soaking up some sun.

Life don't get much better than that.

While I was sitting there, I started thinking about how nice it would be to win the PowerBall lottery that weekend. With $103 million, I decided that I would buy a huge RV and hire somebody to drive it for me. I would then go riding every day, carrying a couple of bottles and maybe a tube, and a cell phone. I would call the driver of my RV if anything came up, and he could bring it to me or fix whatever was broken, or maybe bust some heads if somebody passed me too closely on a back road.

"Carlton," I would say (I named him Carlton after Rhoda's doorman ... you'd have to be old enough to get the reference), "I need a cold bottle." Or, "Carlton, go on up the road about 10 miles and wait for me there with a Diet Coke and a Moon Pie."

Carlton and I -- and RandoGirl, too, if she wanted to come along -- would go where the weather was nice. We'd summer in Canada and winter in Florida. We would stay at nice hotels and eat good dinners. Carlton would take excellent care of my large stable of superb bicycles, and when I wanted company on a fast training ride or long climb, Carlton could ride with me. He would take long pulls into the wind for me, too.

Of course, I know I'm never going to win the lottery -- statistically speaking, you have better odds of contracting leprosy -- but a guy can dream. As I dreamed more about it, I decided the next best thing would be to find somebody else that had won the lottery and become their Carlton. That wouldn't be too bad, either.

Anyhow, I knew the road wouldn't mark itself, so I soon got back to work. With the tailwind, it only took another couple of hours, and by the time I finished marking everything and biking back home, I had ridden 95 miles for the day.

They were Nothing Miles, but they sure felt like Something Great.

What the Heck Happened to the Hair on my Legs?!

Max Watzz!!!

RandoBore Does Not Understand Me At All

Max Watzz here. I just wanted to clear up RandoBoob's obvious misconception regarding my glorious training regimen. I have customized and tweaked my every movement so as to maximize my potential for speed on the bicycle. I not only weigh my food, I measure it's volume and displacement. If I had easy access to a mass spectrometer, I would have my food broken down into sub-atomic molecules before I even consume it. That would leave my wonderful body free to devote time to building even more muscle, rather than wasting energy on such a pedestrian act as "digestion."

But, I digress -- although (unlike RandoBlob) it is understandable given the subject matter: Me.

RandoBlah was nattering on last week about how I never go anywhere ... as if going somewhere was important?! He showed you some of my recent Garmin downloads, but failed to include the part that truly illustrates the magnificence that constitutes me. To rectify this, I will show you my downloads from this past Tuesday night at the track:

And now I'll show you my download from Thursday night jumps in my neighborhood:

RandoBum entirely missed the point of my extraordinary workouts: That incredible power curve at the bottom. Just looking at it now makes me want to kiss my splendid legs ... ah, what the hell. Mmmm. Although they are salty, they are very kissable. And I of course am a great kisser.

You know, some might call me narcissistic, but is it narcissism if you are truly worthy of this level of self-love? I didn't think so, either.

Anyway, despite RandoButt's attempts to torpedo all of my good work by running off on a sailboat that doesn't even have a bicycle, eating too much, and then missing the Rutledge, TN, time-trial for some ridiculously long ride in Kentucky, my training is right on track. Thursday night's jumps went very well, and then I cooled down by riding around the neighborhood and over to Liberty Church Road for a fast climb. Mostly, though, I just wanted to let the lucky souls who live near me bask in the glory of my beautiful legs. Had they been properly shaved, I am certain that grown men who saw them would weep and women would lust for me more than they already do (were that but possible).

Hmmm ... I think I'm going to go shave before RandoBore takes over again.

Re-Elect Ray LaHood

I don't normally get political, but when the next elections come around I am going to volunteer to help re-elect Secretary of Transportation Ray LaHood. Further, I am going to ask all of my loyal readers (or should I say "both of my loyal readers" ... or maybe just "both of my readers") to vote for Ray. Assuming that Princess can vote.

"Do Some Good - Vote for LaHood. Arf."

Why am I so fired up about Ray? Well, because of the latest United States Department of Transportation Policy Statement on Bicycle and Pedestrian Accommodation Regulations and Recommendations (or USDTPSBPARR -- pronounced "WOW" -- for short).

Now, like most of you, I don't usually get excited reading anything that has the words "Policy Statement" in the title. (Louis L'Amour's classic "Gunfight at the Policy Statement Ranch" is about the only exception that comes to mind.) But this thing rocks!

For one, it's short. That's very good, because it has a lot of big words, no action, and no pictures. (Here's a free tip to the DOT: Next time you do one of these, consider how you could do it as a manga cartoon.)

But the best thing about this document is that it states that the Department of Transportation will no longer follow its policy of only pretending to give a rat's a$$ about cyclists, but will "proactively provide convenient, safe, and context-sensitive facilities that foster increased use by bicyclists and pedestrians."

Yeah, when I first read this I thought the same thing that you did: I shouldn't have gotten jalapenos on that burger at lunch. But then I read the next sentence, and it knocked my socks off:

"Transportation programs and facilities should accommodate people of all ages and abilities, including people too young to drive, people who cannot drive, and people who choose not to drive."

By the way, Ray did not (for some reason) put that last part in big bold letters. I did that. I'm sure that Ray, in retrospect, meant to put them in big bold letters. Ray and I are simpatico like that.

In case you didn't notice, I am a person who chooses not to drive. If "not driving" is ever an option -- and this probably includes times when most sane people think that driving is the only option -- then I am choosing that option. The not driving option, I mean.

Of course, policy statements are usually just so much blather. "It is our policy to do good." "The company's policy is to maximize revenues and foster responsible growth." "Blah diddy blah de blah de blah de blah."

But Ray went further. He added "Recommended Actions." Of course, these are just recommendations, but some of them really spoke to me ... and not just in that creepy little girl's voice that I sometimes hear from the back of the bedroom closet.

Here are some of the Recommended Actions, and what each means (at least to me ... and, let's be honest, that's what really counts):

"Considering walking and bicycling as equals with other transportation modes ... transportation agencies should give the same priority to walking and bicycling as is given to other transportation modes. Walking and bicycling should not be an afterthought in roadway design."

RandoBoy Translation: Every time the DOT builds a road, they have to consider how I can safely bike on it.

"Going beyond minimum design standards ... For example, shared-use paths that have been designed to minimum width requirements will need retrofits as more people use them ... Planning projects for the long-term should anticipate likely future demand for bicycling and walking facilities and not preclude the provision of future improvements."

RandoBoy Translation:  DOT will build more and better bike paths.

"Improving nonmotorized facilities during maintenance projects: Many transportation agencies spend most of their transportation funding on maintenance rather than on constructing new facilities. Transportation agencies should find ways to make facility improvements for pedestrians and bicyclists during resurfacing and other maintenance projects."

RandoBoy Translation: When DOT paves a road, they should consider widening it as well to add a bike lane ... or at least a decent shoulder.

I'm excited about all of these, but Ray really got me with that last one. TDOT is about to re-pave Holt Road, which is just a couple of miles from the RandoCave. If they were to put a bike lane on that, or at least a decent shoulder, I would ride that road to work -- thus cutting an extra two miles off of my daily commute.

I'll vote for anybody that can get that done.