So I've been listening to the Maintenance Phase podcast, about weight, fat-shaming, diet culture, and the like, and during the most recent episode ("Doctors Have a New Plan for Kids"; no convenient way to link to it; go see the website), I was reminded of part of my most recent doctor's appointment.
I had gained seven pounds since the previous year, and the doctor gave me a (no doubt insurance-required) counseling on the dangers of weight gain.
Dude! Have you seen me?
To satisfy a nagging little suspicion, I had my doctor send me the heights they had on file for me for the last three years.
There was no change in that little bit of time, but I'm an inch shorter (about 25mm) than I was in college. I'd thought I was still that height, but I'm not.
Over the past two weeks, I've lowered my saddle height by 10mm. Today, with no carbs for breakfast (just a couple hard-boiled eggs, and the quart-and-a-half of coffee I have every day), I turned in this ride:
Holy bananas; 15.6 average. That about a mile-an-hour faster than any ride I've done recently.
The sample size is too small, of course, and correlation is not cause, but this result is suggestive, nonetheless.
It's a shame I look like a dentist in scrubs in that picture, because that jersey pattern came out well, and is probably one or two iterations away from what I really want.
Yeah, I'm working on making my own jerseys. I'm not paying for the good ones, and I don't like the fit of the cheap ones, and I don't like the zippers. I'm never gonna pull down that zipper; keeping my scrawny, grey-haired chest covered is a spiritual work of mercy and a service to the community.
The fit is good; the pockets are deep in back without being so high at the waist that it's hard to reach into 'em. The fabric is sweat-wicking, and a good weight: not heavy, not too flimsy.
Regular readers know that I started sewing during the pandemic. When you start sewing, you wind up making an awful lot of stuff that turns out to be only good for rags. This is probably my tenth jersey, and I only have one other that I'd actually wear. I made two for fellow club members, but those had zippers in, and for the zippers and for other reasons, I'm not really happy with those.
There are a couple of more details I need to work on. But expect to see that seafoam jersey when then weather warms. (I might try a long-sleeve version next...)
On Facebook, I saw ads for this Ocean & San;
one of their slogans is "Looks like a shirt; rides like a jersey" (they
use a comma instead of the semicolon, but don't worry; I corrected
'em). That's kind of the vibe I think I'm going for. It's recently come home to me that almost nobody I ride with or hang around with has the same ideas about bikes, cycling, or accessories as I do. Oh, well.
It's an old quote that golf is a good walk spoiled. The quote is old enough that it's the title of at least two books, and that it's been falsely attributed to Mark Twain. So if golf is a good walk spoiled, I decided that a hike around the golf course at Tom H's over-55 community, at which there would be neither golf nor golfers, is a good walk unspoiled.
Tom decided it was cold enough today not to call for a ride, and suggested the hike around the golf course, which is closed for the winter. He said it would be five miles; The Excellent Wife (TEW) insists it's more like six, and I have not enough information (or interest) to take sides. I've had years of ongoing back pain that affects me on long walks, but with one of my collection of canes, I gimped along just as if I were as able as any of the rest.
Tom invited members of his Insane Bike Posse and our spouses (which I think was a factor in the large number of us agreeing to attend), as well as one of his neighbors at the community. The course is a pleasant, not-demanding walk, and there are breaks at the clubhouse at a few points so that plumbing and central heating could be utilized (and yes, it was cold enough that your correspondent was grateful for the latter).
After, Tom popped for pizza at his house; TEW and I brought some non-alcoholic bubbly that had been purchased for a holiday dinner and went unused. If you're not gonna ride a bike, this is a pleasant enough way to get together and get some exercise... but a bike is still better, if only because you get to sit down.
So I made all of the fat-shaming, ableist, pretty-privilege resolutions that I'm not gonna tell youse about, but I made one more: that I was going to lead Club rides at a pace that I could do, and that I, and people I ride with, could enjoy. The Club's "B pace" is 15.0-16.9mph (average; cruising speeds on the flats, and especially descents, can be faster), and that's the pace I've been listing my rides. I could sometimes keep that pace, but sometimes I could not, and even when I could, I wasn't really having fun.
So for this ride, I posted a "C+ pace", 14.0-15.9mph. I got a number of registrants, some of whom were clearly able to maintain a faster pace, and some for whom the C+ pace was a better fit.
One of my registrants was Tony G of the beautiful bikes, who, last year, had had such a mishap on the descent on Dead Tree Road that he was hospitalized. I understand he's just gotten back to riding (I'd seen him registered for some other rides, but I don't think he's been out). I was delighted to see him.
We had, as I mentioned, a range of abilities on this ride, and some rode ahead, but the main part of the group stayed together. I'd posted the route in advance, and a number of the riders had it on their devices, but the few that went ahead waited at turns for the rest to catch up. There was only one place where we got separated (I changed the route, not to confound the rider in front, but to save some traffic), and we got back together shortly thereafter.
I make a practice of telling riders that they can join along the route, and three of them - Laura OLPH, Rama, and Madhu - decided to do so. Rama told me he'd noted it on the comments section under the "Emergency Contact" question when he registered (and he had), but I didn't pay attention and missed it (gotta look ANOTHER place for info now!). Madhu registered after I'd printed my copy of the list, and was a bit late on the road... but caught up with us anyway. She's complaining that she's slowing down, but after her catching up with us on the route, I'm not sure her protestations bear credibility.
But perhaps the most memorable moment for me: at Dead Tree Road, where Tony had had his incident, I stopped at the bottom, off the road, because I wanted to see Tony go through. At the bridge, he slowed to a stop, kissed his fingertips, and then placed them on the bridge wall, an obvious homage to the god of the bridge for letting him pass. It was my favorite moment of the ride; I wish I'd gotten video.
Above: Ricky swept for this ride. I haven't seen enough of him on a bike recently; I'm very glad he came out today.
So this pace definitely worked for me. And for the time being, the C+ rides are what I plan to do. We'll see if I feel differently later in the season, when I may be stronger, but for now, this resolution is working. I had a great time. Thanks to all who came out.
I don't know if everybody has topics on which they get irrationally angry, but I do. One of them, I've just realized, is insurance.
On the Princeton FreeWheeler board meeting last night, a board member pointed out that members may not be aware of one of the coverages provided by the club's insuror. I maintained that we should not make members generally aware of it, on the theory that there will be members who will abuse it. My position was that we should let people know about the coverage when they are likely to need it, when a situation has arisen when it is likely to be accessed.I'm afraid I pounded the virtual table at this online meeting.
In my defense, first, I know of clubs like ours who have disbanded because the cost of insurance became unsustainable, and I know of a situation where a member has inquired into the club's insurance coverage to apply to a situation which was clearly his sole fault.
But it's also true that I've given out information about our insurance that was not true. And I am suspicious of the motives of some of our members who seek coverage under the club's insurance. (I am generally suspicious that people do not use insurance responsibly.) Some of that suspicion might be unwarranted.
I need to watch myself, both on the topic of insurance, and on cranky anger generally.
Land was donated, near the D&R Canal towpath below Jacques Lane, by Beverly & Abraham Sommer in 1995. I've passed this stone on the bike over and over... but I just recently noticed the mold and lichen on the unpolished, carved panel. In less than 27 years, the process of the stone being reduced to rubble has already begun.
memento mori. ego eris, tu fui.
(I'm a snob, but I'm not heartless. Translations are linked.)
Now, at Thanksgiving, after a number of family plans fell through*, we were invited to a friend's (they felt sorry that we might be alone and neglected), and as we were packing up, the host said he had a hobby of photography, and edited his images in some online product. He spends happy hours doing it, and the cost was a little over a sawbuck a month.
*(Thank the gods!)
I've resolved to ask about his process the next time I see him (I have visions of the two of us side-by-side on a couch, he with his laptop on his lap, I asking endless and inane questions, while Regina and his wife roll their eyes about "boys and their toys"), but in the meantime, I decided to roll out my GIMP program (a free image-manipulation program similar to Photoshop, but without many of the wizards and controls that make Photoshop easier to use), and play with this image.
The first thing I did was change to black-and-white:
Then I changed the contrast a bit:
I may do some more. Or I may go back to the color version and play with that. Ancora imparo, as apparently nobody important ever said.
I'm doing my best to be welcoming of LGBT&c. folks, transgender folks, nonbinary, and the like. I understand that gender and sex are different. I get that the world is just more complicated than some of us would like to think it is. (I won't say I'm good at, or comfortable with, this acceptance, but I'm doing the best I can.)
But my language hasn't caught up. I generally refer to associates, acquaintances, and friends, with the usage "honorific + last name": Mr White, Ms Black; when possible (and when I'm aware) Dr Blue, Professor Green, sometimes Counselor Brown, and so on.
But I don't know a non-gendered honorific, with widespread acceptance and comprehension, for a person who doesn't have a designation. I can refer to that person by first name (and am usually directed to do so), but first, it's unseemly (to me) to use first names in the occasional address of some people, and second, when I usually use the (to me) more formal "honorific + last name" construction, to call an individual by first name seems to imply a familiarity I do not want to project.
Sometimes I have tried the construction "Friend Grey", which also implies familiarity (I stole that from the Quakers, the Religious Society of Friends; some of their more staid members refer to everyone as "Friend Grey", in the belief that the single designation removes the hierarchy that the more formal titles convey [some Friends are deeply moved to treat all people as equals]). It's not ideal.
I could, of course, revert to calling people by first name. In modern America, it's the default. But I like the little distancing implied by the construction I use. I'm both socially inept, and somewhat snobbish and anachronistic (somewhat??!), so "honorific + last name" suits my desires.
It is, of course, likely of no importance to anyone but me. And I have more important things to which to attend (like actually treating people with acceptance and respect, including myself; I've got a huge portion of pretty privilege to manage, and one of the ways that works out is how my own aging - lines on the face, grey hair, my changing body - makes me uncomfortable allowing myself actions and attitudes that others appear to take for granted).
I need to think about this. (Or maybe, as one of my acquaintances has pointed out on other, similar issues, I'm already overthinking it.)
The weather has turned cooler with the arrival of autumn, which means I'm back to being that guy who puts on a blazer and bow tie to go to the grocery.
From a motto on an artwork misattributed to Michelangelo Buonarrotti, ancora imparo, still I am learning. Regular readers may remember that I've been thinking (undoubtedly too much) about pace on the rides I lead. I had an opportunity today to chat about it with some people I trust.
Tom H invited a few of us on a ride today. I initially thought I wouldn't be able to go due to dealing with the property management issues ensuing from the decease of the Excellent Mother-In-Law, but I was relieved of that duty for the day, and got to ride along with Tom, Laura OLPH, Jack H, and Rickety. (Forgive me, but I lost all the pictures today.)
It was wicked hot, so we planned an early (for us) departure at 8am, and a shorter ride of a bit over 40 miles, expecting to be back about 11 before the heat got too bad (we were later than that, but not hugely so).
And it was a hot ride. But more important to me was the fact that I got to talk about my rides, and pace, and my social needs, and what reasonable expectations are (of myself, and of other people). We talked about aging, and some of the ways in which we're all dealing with that. We talked about family (and other) relationships. It helps to do this while riding, as the activity seems to push some of the extraneous matter out of the way, and it helps to talk about this stuff with people whom I've known, and with whom I've ridden, for years.
So the ride page, which shows our route, speed, and such stuff, tells only the most basic story about the ride today. The most important part isn't in the route or the numbers. I guess you had to be there.
When I posted today's ride, I didn't think I'd get miles in yesterday (although it turned out I did), so I posted one of my most demanding routes - about 1700' of elevation, which is not huge, but some of it is steep and nasty. Much of the group that came out are riders who are faster than I (most of the time).
Three of 'em planned to meet us along the way, and I told the starting group that. We were mostly together as we picked up Madhu A, the first rider-in. The group got ahead, and then I caught 'em on the hills.
Apparently, I'm a good hill-rider, and not a good flats rider. Yeah, it doesn't make sense to me either.
And that's how we went for most of the ride: the group would get ahead until the hills, and then I'd catch up, or even pull ahead. But my average on the ride page shows I was faster than I want to bring this ride in usually, although this group was certainly up to the pace.
So I gotta think about pacing and my rides.
The picture at top was at Pretty Brook and Province Line. More:
We stopped at the Boro Bean.
After the stop, Luis and Laura OLPH (both of whom we had also picked up along the route) rolled off, and then another rider complained he wasn't up to completing, so he would shorten the route and find his own way. The group got ahead of me again a couple of times, partly because one other rider was also a straggler. But we all got back safely.
So here's the deal: I clearly can't keep up with the faster riders who come on my rides. But I'm also clearly capable of bringing in the ride at a pace at which I want to ride.
I need to think about this.
So I decided to do a 30-something-mile ride today, and a few miles in, I set my GPS so that I could only see my heading and my distance traveled - not my speed, not the current time, not anything else. I held a pace that was comfortable and not challenging.
It turns out I'm slower than I think I am. 34 miles at less than 15mph.
I might have to rethink what rides I do. Maybe I don't really want to push so hard all the time.
I found myself with some unexpected free time yesterday, and friend Judy F was leading a ride, so I dragged along. It turns out the start is close to home; I left far too much travel time and was early.
This was to be the first long ride on the new handlebar setup, so the short-ish planned distance (27 miles), and the pace (a degree slower than I usually go*) were a good fit for the day. And what a day it was: not hot, breezy, clear - a great day for a ride.
*I need to admit that, in my decline, my pace IS slowing. While I can keep up with club rides listed at the pace I go, I'm no longer at the front, and the rides at the next pace down don't feel draggy. We have a club rule about "if you're off the front, you're on your own," but in these days of devices with turn-by-turn directions, it's common for group rides to split into faster and slower groups. I find myself in the slower group on some rides, and the faster group on others, or sometimes both on the same ride.
Judy apparently has a route she likes and does the same route each time; it looks like this. The break comes at Grover's Mill Coffee, about ten miles into this 26-ish mile route.
(I had a LOT of pictures that didn't come out on this ride. Contact me if you want some blurry, barely-recognizable images.)
The early stop gave me an opportunity to complain (there weren't many; I really had to dig). And how do you know if I'm having a good time if I'm not complaining?
Judy's route goes through neighborhoods I don't know, in towns that are close to me. I remember asking Mitch at one point, "Are we still in New Jersey?" "Kansas", was his reply.
A little while later, I asked, "Did you say 'Kansas' before, so I'd say later, "I don't think we're in Kansas anymore' "?
"I wondered if you'd pick up on that," he said.
New handlebar setup: The bars put me in a more forward-leaning position. It puts the weight on a different part of my hands, which I'm not used to, and I find I move around the bars frequently for comfort. But I didn't find I got the pins-and-needles, hands-going-to-sleep feeling I got on the other bars, which I tried to manage by using gloves with padding across the full palm (that solution was only partially successful). Friend Ron A points out (on Facebook) that the new bar is a Cinelli 66 Campione del Mondo, so it's got racing cred (far beyond my league, but it pleases my retrogrouchy heart), so I intend to continue with it. The on-the-hoods position gets me a little lower than previously, and out of the wind, and (so far) my back has not registered any complaints about the new posture.
Good ride, good people to ride with. Judy doesn't do this ride every week, but I'm going to start looking for it.
With nothing else planned to do today except for my usual late-afternoon-early-evening shift at the New Brunswick Bike Exchange, I got out on a ride today, partly to get some info. Stuff I learned:
It was a pensive couple of hours.
My mother-in-law died yesterday.
This post will not be enough to serve as an obituary, but I wanted to write some of my feelings about her and about her passing.
I frequently referred to Danuta Baginska Brzek (whom I called Babci, as her grandchildren did) as The Excellent Mother-In-Law, on the model of referring to my wife as The Excellent Wife (TEW). But Babci was excellent to me in her own right.
I used to joke that part of the reason that she and I got along so well was that there was only enough common language between us for each to be polite to the other, but that's not really true, and doesn't tell much of the story. Babci always seemed happy to see me. I think she knew that TEW and I got along well, and that her daughter was generally happy with me, and that made Babci happy. She also liked that I would share with her what little of my life I could do, given the language barrier (like most Americans, I have only one language; Babci was fluent in Polish and could make herself understood in English until a stroke took much of that latter capability from her).
I make no secret of the fact that my relationship with my family of origin was problematic. That never seems to have been the case with Babci; she always treated me with positive regard. When my wife would jokingly complain to her about some mistreatment I had allegedly perpetrated, Babci's response to her was often, "So what did YOU do first?".
Babci loved it that we were able to go on foreign vacations. She loved it when we would get dressed up for Christmas and Easter, and as time went on, I would dress up a bit every time I planned to see her. She was grateful for the little chores and maintenance tasks I'd perform around her house, and (as is common with Polish hospitality), would make sure I was fed, sometimes to the point of immobility.
Babci was always a happy face and always made me welcome, as few people to whom I am related have done.
I've not spoken about her experiences as a child in a labor camp during the second World War. I've not spoken about how she and her husband sent all four of their daughters to college. Or how, with (at most) a sixth-grade education between them, they wound up with several houses, even giving one away to a nephew when he came of age. I suppose her real obituary will include that stuff. That's not what this post is.
I will miss her.
In my last post, I was complaining about being old, and being thought of as old (which are different things). When today broke with sunshine, The Excellent Wife (TEW) hinted (HAH!) that I might benefit from a ride with The Old Guys... so off I went to Byron Johnson Park to tag along with Bill B's ride.
Although the sun was out when I left the house, clouds prevailed for most of the ride, and I was slightly underdressed (the excellent Martin G got this, with me on the right).
That's a Bristol-Myers-Squibb jersey, part of a haul with which a neighbor gifted me (three long-sleeve jerseys, those bib shorts, and some other stuff). The kit is far better quality than I would ever buy for myself, and I wear it unapologetically, despite not having done the advertised ride. But another layer would have been a good idea.
Bill did this route. I mostly behaved myself, and rode with him until the break, allowing the faster folks to go off the front.
At the stop:
After the stop, however, Martin, Sophie, Jen A, and I let excitement get the better of us, and sped off ahead of the group. I was the first to flag... Chris C came up behind, and we rolled along until we came up on Martin replacing a tube. He was replacing the tube by himself, which is unheard of on FreeWheeler rides.
Dave G rolled up...
... and I couldn't resist this of Sophie & Jen getting a selfie. This picture makes me smile.
At the parking lot at then end, I gave out a few of the too-many business cards I've had printed up about my Ramblin' Wrench bicycle maintenance venture. Hint, hint.
TEW, and everybody else who told me I needed to get a ride in, was right. I'm better. The stuff I wrote in my last post is still true, but it's not the only truth.
Life is good.
