The Weather Outside is Frightful

For some reason, flipping the calendar over to December here in middle Tennessee this year was like flipping a switch on the big thermostat in the sky. We bypassed the "Cool" setting and went right to "Cold," and then had snow flurries this past weekend ... yes, snow flurries. In the freaking southeastern United States, on the first weekend in December, still three weeks from winter, and we get SNOW?!

Yech.

It was so lousy last week that I didn't even bike in to work. Not one day. There were only about half a dozen weeks this whole year when I didn't bike in to work at least one day, and two of those were because I was on vacation.

Of course, in January, I rode in one day when it was five degrees. And last November I had a programming class over on the north side of town, and biked in to that ... even though it was an extra 20 miles round-trip, and pretty darned cold that day, too.

I think the problem is actually that I'm suffering from my own success.

Last year, I had to ride in some crappy weather to get in my 10,000 miles. This year, I hit that mark this past Saturday morning, riding a little 40-mile route in mid-30 temperatures on the first true Polar Bear Ride of the season.

Durk Peterson has been leading the Saturday Polar Bear Rides in Leiper's Fork for as long as I have lived here. No matter how cold and windy it is, you can count on a good hilly workout with Durk every Saturday. I would say that he likes to suffer, except that he is always so good-natured about these rides.

As you can see, we were all bundled up. I was wearing my beloved Assos gear, with winter shoes and chemical toe warmers on the socks, plus lobster mitts keeping my fingers warm. Frankly, I was dressed just about perfectly, which was easier to do since I kept the ride short and finished before the day reached the balmy 40's.

I started the day 39 miles away from 10,000. We rode 41, so that I pulled into the parking lot at 10,002. Goal met.

I could have ridden during the afternoon. It was not too windy, and it got all the way up to 42 at my house. Instead, I did some chores, and got ready for the Harpeth Bike Club's Holiday Party that night. RandoGirl and I chatted with friends, ate good food, listened to some really great music, and boogied.

Sunday, we met Mike and Patty Willman, and the four of us rode our tandems down to Henpeck and back. Again, the temperatures stayed in the 30's, and there was just a bit of wind, so we rode just under 40 miles.

I'm pretty sure that I'll get interested enough in riding to suffer the current temperatures again. It may not be in the next couple of weeks ... but it doesn't have to be. I've met my goal mileage for the year, and I'm having fun.

I'll let you know when that changes.

An Open Letter to Mark Lynskey

Dear Mark:

I'm writing this to let you know how you saved my a$$.

First, let me be clear that by a$$, I mean my posterior. My tush. My keister.

The dollar signs are in no way a commentary on the price of your bicycles. They ain't cheap (although I managed to get mine at a ridiculously good price), but then quality such as this rarely is. Especially titanium quality. I mean, it's a rare metal, so it's expensive. And it's only a little easier to work with than adamantium (the stuff that Wolverine's skeleton is lined with, for my nerd readership), so anybody that sells a titanium bike cheap is an idiot.

Of course, I'm not calling you an idiot, even though I did get my titanium Lynskey pretty cheap. And I certainly wouldn't call Lynn Greer at Gran Fondo (a.k.a., "the Greatest Bike Shop in the Universe", where I bought this bike) an idiot. Not just because he's my friend, and not just because he is certainly not an idiot. And only partially because I'm a little afraid of him ... well, maybe more than a little. He can be crazy intense.

So, we're clear, right? There are no idiots here, even though I have been known to do idiotic things. But I was certainly no idiot when I bought this bike.

Of course, again, to give credit where credit is due, I did not just decide one morning that I wanted to buy a new Lynskey randonneuring bike. Credit for that has to go to Lynn ... or maybe his wife, Vida. They knew that I wanted a new randonneuring bike, and that I probably needed a new randonneuring bike. I was just finishing up a season where I rode a 1200K on an aluminum Masi, and although I survived this ride, it was not without damage, and it certainly wasn't an entirely pleasant experience. They knew, and I knew, that a custom geometry frame made out of a more forgiving material would make future brevets more enjoyable.

So, Lynn put together a great deal, and RandoGirl gave the OK. All I had to do was get measured and decide what to put on the top tube.

Which brings us back to my a$$.

I've now been on this wonderful bicycle for just over a year. I have crashed it once, I have raced on it, I have been on it for 18 hours and 250 miles almost non-stop, and I have ridden lots of brevets and centuries and just little fun trips and commutes. Basically, I now have almost 5,000 miles on this bike.

And I still love it. Rarely this season did I find its caress unkind, and most of those instances were probably the result of too much time on other ill-fitting bikes ... or maybe some shot shorts.

I rode my Lynskey on some crappy roads this year. When I had ridden those crappy roads on other bikes, I would raise up out of the saddle a bit. Not so with this bike, as it somehow smothered the crap.

Some bikes would make you pay for this shock-absorption. Not this one. When I want to quickly climb a hill, or jump for a county-line sprint, it is right there with me. If my legs are giving power, then the Lynskey returns speed.

A lot of fast bikes are twitchy, but not this one. Since I don't have mad bike racer skillz, I don't take my hands off of the bars much ... but I can on my Lynskey. It goes straight when that's the way I want to go, and when I lean into a turn it carves a sweet tight curl ... like Danish butter. Mmmm ... butter.

And, of course I don't have to tell you how tough it is ... I mean, it is made of titanium. When I crashed on some gravel on a turn in March, my wheel tacoed and I had a couple of scratches on the left brake hood. But the frame? Fuhgeddaboudit.

But, back to my butt.

In 2010, I plan to do a full series of brevets, culminating in the fall with a 1000K. In 2008, I took at least a full week off the bike before the 600K and 1200K, to ensure that the "human/saddle interface" was unmarred by lingering issues. This year, I won't have to do that. This year, with this bike, I feel pretty sure that I could go out next weekend and ride a 600K without any problems ... other than suffering from the cold and wind, and of course the lack of sleep and muscle stress that are inevitable with riding 375 miles in 40 hours or less.

Part of this may be due to the fact that I'm pretty well trained up right now, but most of it is due to you and the wonderful bike that you built for me. You helped make 2009 a great year for me in cycling, and you have given me hope for an even better 2010. For this, I thank you from the bottom ... of my heart.

Regards,

RandoBoy