Zube with a twist

I invited Jorge, my buddy and colleague, to ride with the Mules last weekend and he offered to pick me up as it was more-or-less on his way. Jorge drives a Mazda 3 hatchback but can't put a bike-rack on it, so he told me he was going to borrow a friend's car - which turned out to be a shiny, almost new Mercedes 230. A friend bought the car and was then transferred out, so Jorge is trying to sell it for him and of course, he needs to drive it every now and then. He had also just bought a gorgeous Specialized bike that looked rather splendid on the back of the Merc. Off we went and in due course pulled up at Zube, where a sizable group of Mules were treated to the sight of a late-model Mercedes with two high-end bikes and two petrophysicists on board. The crowd included both our former and current bosses' boss who may well have concluded that their staff was over-paid.

Off we went in an impressive group of ten, forming two pace-lines. The ride went well but Jorge was finding the pace a bit hot. At the gas station Paddy and some others opted for a longer route. I decided to stay with the 45 mile group, which included Jorge. Off we rolled on the scenic back route via Wyatt Chapel road, with Jorge struggling again. He wasn't tired but couldn't get a full extension of his legs without cramping up. We made the turn on the road running down to Waller but hit a red light at the intersection with I-10. Richard was trying to avoid unclipping until the last minute, hoping the light would change - but it didn't, and he went down in an embarrassed heap while we all cheered.

We stopped at the Shell station to let Jorge stretch out a bit and that seemed to help. The last ten miles went by easily enough. With about three to go, Jason and the gang took off, leaving Sean and I to shepherd Jorge in. Back at Zube we loaded up and headed home. Jorge and I sat in my back yard and enjoyed a beer and a debrief.

Forty-Three mile Fixie Frenzy

This weekend's outing was the "Ride to the Rescue", an organised ride in Manvel that benefits an animal rescue organization. Manvel is in Brazoria County, south of Houston on the Coastal Plain, and it's flat, flat, flat, so I decided to take my fixie on its first big boy ride.

The ride options were 30, 43 and 60 miles. 60 seemed a bit much on the fixie so I rode the 43. There had been a light freeze on Saturday night, but the forecast called for mid-50's temperatures so I didn't take any real cold weather gear, other than my anorak/bike jacket and my arm warmers. Sitting in the car before the start with the thermometer showing 33 degrees, I felt that perhaps a little more gear would have been in order!

As I was getting ready to join the start line, I saw a Mules jersey go by. It was Kevin S. on his sexy new Willier bike, finally in from Italy. He was impressed to see my fixie and bare legs! Chris H. showed up soon after, also without tights, also wishing she'd brought them.

We set off and I kept pace with Kevin, who is very strong at present. He tried to keep the pace down to 17-18mph for my benefit but didn't manage very well. We picked up two other riders and made a four bike pace line for a while. After about ten miles I dropped back, not able to keep the pace, and then stopped at the first break point to strip off the anorak and arm warmers.

Back on the road, the routes split and I picked up the 43. The wind was starting to pick up too, and one long pull into the breeze had me digging deep. The wind is hard on a heavy bike with no gears. Thankfully we turned right onto a more sheltered country road and I could sit up and relax a bit.

That was the pattern for the rest of the ride - occasional pulls into the wind, occasional downwind stretches, mostly working with a cross wind. I hit every break point, instead of every other one, which is my normal pattern - I felt I was getting enough exercise on the fixie to justify the extra breathers.

Pretty soon we were back in Manvel and then at the finish. I could smell food coming into the parking lot and sure enough there was a group of volunteers grilling hot dogs. I sucked down a chilli dog (hey, I needed the carbs and protein) and ran into Gunilla, another BHP rider, looking pretty comfortable after the 43 mile route. She'd hardly noticed the wind, though - must be in better shape than me. Back to the car and home to a gorgeous afternoon.

Fayetteville Fun

Keen followers of this blog (you know who you are!) will recall a post titled "Frozen in Fayetteville" from about the same time last year. When I rode the 2010 Club 300 Fayetteville ride with David it was 33 degrees at the start and 34 degrees at the end. The weather looked a lot better last Sunday when Kevin C. and I rode the same event - clear skies, cool at first but warming, but they never tell you about the wind when you hear the weather forecast on the radio. Sure enough there was a blustery wind from the North/Northwest to make life a little more interesting on this quite hilly ride.

The organizers laid out two loop routes - a 17 miler which everyone started on, and an optional 28 mile slog for the masochists - and let's face it, every cyclist has a little masochist in them somewhere.

The first few miles of the 17 mile loop had either a cross-wind or for short sections a glorious tail-wind and we were flying along in fine style, screaming down the descents and practically coasting on the climbs. Then we turned into the wind and it was a different story. This year's route took us up the dreaded Rek Hill - a longish, steepish climb into Fayetteville that you hit on the MS150 at about the 80-mile point. There are guaranteed to be riders pushing their bikes on Rek Hill on the big day. No walkers today, but an already tough climb was not eased by riding into a concrete head wind. Kevin normally out-climbs me with ease, but he was feeling the effects of a recent trip to Malaysia, and dropped back. I got as low as I could and ground it out, reaching the crest well ahead of him and a few others we had picked up.

Pretty quickly I found myself back at the start in Fayetteville and began to wonder if I had missed a turn somewhere. I stopped to strain spuds and then rolled over to Kevin's car, where he was waiting for me, having got in about 30 seconds behind me. We both took the opportunity to strip off some gear (my base layer was dripping wet!), hydrate and rest a little before heading out on the 28 mile loop.

We couldn't quite work out the route from the map we had, but got some guidance from another rider and set out with some misgivings. We saw lots of riders going in the opposite direction, which made us even more concerned that we had gone wrong (we wondered if they were from a different group!) but then saw a route marker and relaxed a bit. Kevin decided that we had indeed missed a turn on the 17 mile loop. I'd probably gone right by a marker, with my head down into the wind, and he had followed me.

Conditions were getting tougher and tougher, and we were both getting tired. We arrived at the break point and stopped for water and a much-needed breather. I asked another rider to take a pic and here it is. We look pretty happy, don't we?

On the road again, and yet more vicious climbs, culminating in a real killer that just about did for us. Normally you get a bit of a descent before a climb, and you try and build momentum to help you up the other side. We approached this one on the flat, into the wind, struggling just to keep going. Ominously, there was a ride marshal and a SAG wagon parked at the bottom of the hill, looking like vultures waiting for some road kill. As we climbed in a group with some other riders I yelled out "Granny ring!" (a cycling term explained in a previous post) and grunted my way to the crest with only one gear left. At the top I took it easy for a while, trying to get my heart-rate and breathing under control, and waiting for Kevin - but he didn't appear. I wondered if he had got in front of me but that didn't seem possible, so I turned round and rode back to see where he was. Soon enough the SAG wagon rolled up with Kevin on board. He had missed a gear, causing both legs to cramp up, hadn't been able to get his shoes unclipped and had fallen over on the side of the road. SAGging seemed like a good idea, although he was a little embarrassed.

I declined the offer of a lift and turned around to resume the ride. The climb had just about done me in though, and I opted to take a short-cut that lopped about 6 miles off the route. Pretty soon I was back in Fayetteville, feeling about as bad as I ever have after a ride. Kevin and I loaded up his jeep and headed out. We stopped at Hruska's for a sausage wrap, a bad idea as it turned out. Back home I promptly retired to my bed for a two hour power nap, and woke feeling much better. I'm glad I don't have to do that again.

Liar dice

For once, the weather was near perfect for yesterday morning's ride from Zube - clear skies (at least at first), mid-50's temperature and almost no wind (well, it is Texas). A surprisingly low turn-out of Mules was matched by a very large group from the Northwest Cyclery Cycling Club, who have organised rides from Zube every Saturday morning.

I arrived first, but Ian turned up shortly afterwards. For a while it seemed that no-one else was coming, and we talked about riding with the Club. They go off in speed groups - 20+mph, 18-20mph, 16-18mph and 14-16mph - but all ride the same route, which is our standard Mules ride. I thought we would go out with the 18-20 group, as we normally average 18-19mph on our rides, but Ian, who has been out with the Club many times, prefers the 16-18mph group. Apparently both groups are full of Liars, riders who lie about their ability in order to beat the rest of the group, so the 16-18 group actually goes at about 20mph.

With about ten minutes to go before the Club started, Gregor arrived, followed by Alex and Oz. Alex had to change out a wheel, so the rest of us joined the 16-18 group, which was quite large - probably 20 bikes - and formed a double pace-line.

It was a bit of an adjustment to get used to drafting in such a big group. Their practice of hammering through the corners took me by surprise at first, too - the Mules usually take corners slowly and regroup before accelerating. The lead riders on both lines peeled off regularly and I soon found myself pulling the outside line, probably a mistake as it drained a lot of energy, but etiquette (and my pride!) demanded that I do my share of the work.

About 15 miles in, the pace accelerated sharply (as predicted by Ian) and I got spat out of the back of the line. Fortunately there were 4 or 5 other riders in the same position and we formed a secondary pace-line. In Pro cycling this is called a "gruppetto" in Italian, or "autobus" in French - a group of riders from all the teams, usually sprinters and domestiques, who ride together through the mountains to avoid disqualification.

We got to the gas station without too much effort and I thanked the others before joining Ian et al., who had been in for a while. Ian's bike computer showed an average speed (for him and the speedsters!) of about 20 mph - so they were proven Liars. Alex and Oz were there too, having taken a shortcut. We restarted together under cloudy skies and with the wind blowing much harder from the south. Once again I got dropped, but this time I had to ride about 10 miles more or less on my own, before jumping onto the rear wheel of two riders who came through from behind. I stuck with them all the way back, taking a couple of turns at the front.

Back in Zube we exchanged war stories (Oz rode in a relay team in a race all the way from the West Coast to the East a few years back) and talked high-end bikes for a while before I took my leave. Next weekend will see me in Fayetteville on Sunday for an MS-150 ride, so no Zube for once.

Frozen assets

Another crack of dawn trip to Zube Park, this time under clear skies but with the temperature somewhere between 33 and 28 degrees F, depending on whose car thermometer you believe. A crew of speedsters gathered - Jason, Kevin, Gregor and Ian from Chevron -making me the only tortoise in a field of hares. No American Mules today - the wimps, what's a little frost between friends?

Kevin was looking a bit battered after "kissing the road" last Wednesday. Apparently he was riding back to his car after a few laps of the Fruit Loop in Memorial Park and got his front wheel stuck in a crack in the pavement. With the skinny tires we all use, this is a certain spill and he went down pretty hard, hence the scabs on his face and eyelid, bruises on his thigh and a possibly fractured rib. His bike didn't suffer too badly (he straightened the handlebars and rode back to his car!) but fortunately he wasn't on his new Wilier, which probably would have been much the worse for wear.

I wore all my cold weather gear, including arm warmers, balaclava, overshoes and expensive, Gore-Tex mountain runner's jacket. The latter garment was the cause of much derision the last time I wore it and today was the same. It's not really suitable for cycling but it's the best option I have right now.

There was no wind to speak of when we started, but it picked up later on. The speedsters kept the pace down to about 17-18mph, but I still struggled to stay with them. Jason, bless his Kiwi heart, dropped back a couple of times to pull me back into the group. With about three miles to go to the Exxon station where we break, we saw a lone rider in front and decided to reel him in. Gregor was in the lead and kicked the pace up pretty hard. I was actually able to keep with the group, a very exhilarating experience while it lasted.

At the gas station I decided to strip off as much as I could, including the jacket, which left me wearing only a cycling jersey on top. Ian commented that I would probably do better without the jacket and he was right. I need a more aerodynamic piece of outerwear.

We returned to Zube via Business 290 with a strong cross-wind from the south. I felt pretty strong and not too cold, despite the lack of clothing. The pack dropped me on the climbs but were good enough to wait at the crest. We all shared the lead and worked together well. On the home stretch Gregor and Ian decided that they'd had enough team-work and dropped me easily, but no harm, no foul.

Back home to a delicious bread, cheese and wine lunch courtesy of the Houston Dairymaids, followed by our annual marmalade-making extravaganza. Yum -

Mule train

Off to Zube on a soggy Saturday morning. It was drizzling when I left home and started raining for real when I got to 290. Fortunately it had dried up by the time I reached Zube, and actually stayed dry all the way round.

I spotted Jason's bumble bee Camaro in the parking lot. He hasn't been on his bike since October, but I suspected (correctly!) that he hadn't lost much. Lee and Kevin soon appeared, and then Tyson (haven't seen him since the MS-150), and off we went. Kevin has a sexy new bike on order (http://wilier-usa.com/en/) that hasn't been delivered yet, but he's dangerous enough as it is on his old Cannondale.

It was Tyson's first outing with the Mules and he wondered how long we'd be out. Turned out he had a kick-boxing training session back in town at 11.00. What it is to be young and full of urine and acetic acid.

As ever it was windy, but for once it was out of the East, so we set off at a good clip, knowing we'd pay the price on the way back. I was wearing my new rain jacket to ward off the cold, and in the expectation of rain. Pretty soon I had a mini-Rain Forest going on.

The group fragmented on the way out but regrouped at the Exxon. I took the bold decision of removing my jacket, exposing my sweat-sodden Mules shirt to the elements. The others looked doubtful (it was still pretty cool) but I couldn't keep going with the jacket on. We headed back along Business 290 into the teeth of the wind and tried to get organised into a pace-line. Once we managed to corral Kevin (he kept accelerating when he took point, instead of keeping a constant pace) it went quite well and we shared the lead pretty efficiently all the way back. Go Mule Train!

Blowin' in the Wind

True professionals, these Podium Girls kept smiling bravely as the wind turned them into parodies of Marilyn Monroe in "The Seven Year Itch". I had to deal with a lot of wind on my last few rides, too, but did it with much less grace I'm afraid.

The Monday after New Year's Day saw Kevin C. and me riding out at Zube, Kevin's maiden voyage in that neck of the woods. I took MC to IAH that morning so we rode after lunch, a rare event for me. Kevin was constantly on the lookout for traffic but I assured him that the country roads around Zube were pretty quiet. That's true on a weekend morning, not quite so accurate on a Monday afternoon, but most of the drivers were very considerate. We had a tail wind all the way out and a cross-wind all the way back, but managed to work together quite well. I was pretty much beat at the end of the run.

I managed three commuting rides in the week, and it was my Friday off, so I decided to take the fixie out for a spin in Terry Hershey. The weather appeared to be picture-perfect, temperature in the mid-60's under clear skies, and Susan and I had lunch in the garden (in January! This time of year is why we live here). Unfortunately once out of my sheltered back yard and on the open road I realized that there was a good stiff breeze blowing. The fixie is no fun going into the wind - it's heavy and you can't change gear. The wind was out of the west and the route goes due west so I struggled until the turn. The run back was a lot easier but the damage was done and I was a very tired puppy when I got home.

This morning saw me getting up early and heading to Zube for a Mules run. Once again the weather appeared perfect - clear skies, temps in the high 40's, heading for the 60's later - but of course the wind was blowing pretty sharply from the North. For once I'd brought enough gear - tights, arm warmers, jacket - and felt pretty good as we set out. Quite a good turn-out, even though Paddy is away in Vietnam - Kevin S, Gregor, Kenny, Lee (a new mule), Dani (a new face for me but she has a Mules shirt) and a young geo from the office, Mitch. The latter was not well prepared - he was riding with toe-clips, no gloves and a big pack on his back - and couldn't keep up with the usual 18-20 mph pace. We fought the wind on the way out and the group split up, with Kenny and Gregor disappearing into the distance in front, and Mitch falling off behind. Once we turned around life got much easier, and we were dieseling along in high gear without breaking a sweat. It couldn't last, of course, and after the usual break at the Exxon we had a much tougher time. The first mile or so was directly into the wind and I really struggled. At the turn onto Business 290 we quickly got fragmented again - Kenny, Gregor and Lee legged it out at the front, Dani and Mitch were dropping back so Kevin turned round to help them, leaving me on my own. It was a tough pull back with a gusty cross-wind and I was very glad to get back to my car. The fast group had been in for a while and were exchanging war stories (as you do). Dani eventually rolled up, then Kevin and Mitch - apparently they had stopped in Waller for donuts and coffee. We agreed that in future the speedsters would stop and pick up donuts and hand them to the rest of the group as we passed by, just like a feed zone in a pro ride. I'm looking forward to the next one.