If it ain't fixed, it's broke

Every other bike we saw in Seattle was a fixie, and many of them didn't have brakes, quite amazing given the hilly terrain. I went into a bike shop and they had a whole rack of fixies, all singing a siren song to me.

So once back in Houston I took my lovely Italian roadster to my LBS and asked them to convert it from 12 gears to one (and no freewheel, thanks). They called me a few days later with bad news - they didn't want to do it because the bike wouldn't be safe (rear dropouts pointing forward and too much space between the chain stays). However, they would be happy to sell me a very nice Bianchi model for $700.

Enter Ebay, and a bike retailer offering a new Dawes fixie for $220 (MRP: $700). This seemed too good to be true, so I did a little research and found out about BikesDirect, a manufacturer of low-spec bikes sold exclusively on-line. The cheap fixie was undoubtedly one of their offerings. On-line opinion of the quality of BD products varied dramatically. Some people were very dismissive, others had better experiences. Since the failed Italian conversion would have cost me about $200, I didn't have much to lose and decided to take a chance on SportyMama (the Ebay e-tailer).

The bike arrived very promptly and I opted to assemble it myself (no gears, so no serious adjustments needed). It has been christened "The Gold Standard" for obvious reasons and I've taken it out for a few casual spins around the neighbourhood. Riding a fixie is definitely different! No more coasting through corners, or after standing on the pedals - the bike tells you quite firmly that this is not allowed. A bit more practice and I'll take it on one of the Saturday morning runs (see previous post), although I won't be leading the group.

Sadly, the acquisition of another bike means I have to dispose of the Italian job. I put it on Craig's List and got a lot of responses - perhaps the price was too low. Anyway, we'll see how serious they are.

Slowing the pace

Back home after two weeks on vacation, mostly out of town, and my buttocks didn't see a saddle for the whole time we were away. There was a nice trail in Victoria (The Galloping Goose!) but the weather wasn't very conducive to leisure riding.

I wanted to get back into the swing of riding and exercising, so I hit the gym yesterday (30 minutes stationary bike, 15 minutes rowing machine) and planned a ride today. The Mules were going out from Zube, but I'm sure they are all in very good shape right now (training for the Hotter-than-Hell) and I didn't fancy the punishment of trailing after them for 40 miles in the summer heat. Looking around the web, I saw that my local bike shop, Bicycle World and Fitness, does an easy-paced, no-drop ride every Saturday morning - just the ticket for a rider trying to get it back together. Also, it's barely 10 minutes ride from the house, so no need to load up the car.

So at 7.00am today I pulled up outside the shop and joined a smallish group (maybe 20), mostly older people, nobody looking like a very serious rider. We headed out for Terry Hershey at a fairly sedate pace, and kept it there all the way through to Route 6. Just as I began to wonder if I had set my sights too low, one or two riders broke from the pack and took off at a better pace. I jumped on and pretty soon there were just two of us, going pretty quick.

The ride leader wanted us to regroup at the Constable's station, and my buddy and I got there well ahead of the pack. We chatted for a while - he's a lot younger than me and training for a couple of triathlons later in the year. We regrouped and headed out - once again, the two of us broke clear pretty quickly. I took the lead halfway down Barker-Clodine and tried to keep the pace up for the other guy - but I made it too hot, and dropped him (totally unintentionally!). I eased off and he got back on. It turned out that he didn't really know how to draft, so was having to work too hard when he should have been taking it easy.

On into George Bush Park, riding together this time. We reached Fry road and waited for the pack, chatting some more. The group gathered and our leader, Manny from the bike shop, gave us an impromptu lecture on nutrition. Turns out he's the official nutritionist for a Pro team, Team Type-1, who are riding the RAAM (Race Across America, Anaheim CA to Annapolis MD) this month, so he has chops for sure. He passed on some very interesting info, mostly in complete contradiction to my own limited ideas about cycling nutrition. I may have to change up a few things.

Back on the road and once again Kenzie and I take the lead. Another stop at the Constable's station, then a pretty hot sprint back to Route 6 where I drop my new buddy again. Once in Terry Hershey we regroup and take it easy - too much foot and bike traffic to race anyway. Then it's back to the bike store for a chat with the mechanics about converting my old 12-speed into a fixed-gear bike. It's a short but sweaty ride home from there.

Swallows and Amazons

Swallows and Amazons was the first book in a series of children's novels written in the 30's by Arthur Ransome, about the adventures of a group of kids learning to sail in the Lake District. I was reminded of the stories and their setting while standing by Beaver Lake, in Victoria BC where we were just recently on holiday. It's very picturesque - the lake is beautiful, there are trees all around, lots of Canada geese (as James says, in Canada they are just called "geese") and mallards - and on the day we visited, there were rowing boats (coxless fours no less) out training, mostly apparently crewed by women. As there were also a number of swallows doing aerobatics just above the water, you can see why Ransome's tales came to mind. Wikipedia just reminded me that one of the crew of the Swallow was called "Titty", a source of amusement for generations of kids, and changed to "Kitty" for the movie version.

Jason the Camaronaut

This week's featured rider is - Jason Flockton! This diminutive Antipodean powerhouse is probably the best sprinter in the group (sorry Mike, he left you for dead today), and is also known for taking on more than his fair share of time at the head of the peloton.

Jason and Mike showed up for today's weekly thrash around Hempstead, bad news for me as they're both very strong at present. After all the rain yesterday it was pretty foggy this morning and it stayed that way for most of the ride, making it very sticky and uncomfortable. Mike and Jason set a cracking pace but let me sit at second wheel for most of the way. There was a head wind all the way out (huh? How can it be foggy and windy at the same time?), but despite Mike's gloomy prognostications, it didn't switch direction on us at the gas station and we had a tail wind all the way in.

Back at Zube we took a close look at Jason's new car, a bright yellow Camaro. Its miniscule trunk

makes it the perfect choice for a travelling cyclist (sarcasm/jealousy alert here). The kids at school think it looks like a bumble bee - I leave you to form your own opinion.

Hogan's a Hero

Mike Hogan, that is, 50-something Category 5 road racer and one of our senior safety people. He's also the only other person to show up at Zube this morning, despite Paddy emailing me that he would definitely be there. Mike's act of heroism today was to drag me round the 40 mile circuit under difficult wind conditions and not roll his eyes too much when he had to wait at the top of all the climbs.

It was a beautiful morning when we started, cool and not at all humid, but with a stiffish breeze coming out of the north-west. Since the route heads mostly north and west until we get to the gas station and turn around, we spent a lot of time fighting a screaming head or cross wind. We joked that with our luck the wind would have shifted into our face again by the time we headed back. I think we tempted fate -

Mike kept up a pretty good pace but I was able to keep with him, although I spent a lot of time drafting. While riding side-to-side we had a good chat about the industry (and the Deepwater Horizon disaster) road-racing and our Missing-in-Action riding buddies (which included Gregor, who was supposed to show but didn't, and left his phone off to boot).

Back at Zube I took a shot of Mike and his sexy time-trial bike that he brought today (instead of his highly-sexy Pinarello). Here he is, your hero and mine -

Houston-Austin: "A weekend in Hell"

OK, it wasn't as bad as that! The real "Sunday in Hell" is the Paris-Roubaix pro race that's run every Easter over cobbled roads in Northern France. This year's MS-150 was a struggle for me, mainly because I couldn't get enough training, due to sickness and bad weather. Next year will be better!

A lot of logistics to wrangle this time. Susan's sister's partner's twin brother David, who lives in Austin, rode the bus down on Friday and spent the night with us. I drove him to the start (to drop his bag and pick up his bike), then drove back home where I'd arranged to meet up with Christina and Taylor. We saddled up and rode to the BHP start, where we hooked up with the rest of the team, including David - all by 7.00am.

We have our own team start partly for a bit of pre-ride bonding, but mostly to avoid the chaos at the official start (10,000+ riders all trying to get off at the same time!). Sadly, this year the official start had been moved and our route took as right to it - so we had to wait anyway. Oh well, it was a good opportunity for more bonding, and got us ready for the endless lines that would face us over the next two days.

Off we went on a clear, cool morning with a fair tail wind and storms in the forecast. I'd forgotten just how flat it is around the city - we didn't climb anything close to a hill until about forty miles out, practically at the lunch stop. The rain held off and it was pretty comfortable riding all the way. Unfortunately my lack of training was starting to make itself known, via a certain discomfort in the hinterlands, so to speak. This was to continue all day and into Sunday. Experienced riders tell you that miles make smiles, and they don't mean that your legs get stronger.

The tail wind kept going, but by mile 65 or so I was running out of steam. Everything hurt (feet/backside/back/neck/shoulders) and the climbs were really taking a toll. I knew that I had one big climb outside Fayetteville to face - the dreaded Rek Hill - and wasn't sure there was enough in the tank to get me over it. Turns out there was, but only just. Fayetteville was a big boost, as ever - the whole town turns out to cheer on the riders.

With twenty miles to go I was running on empty, living for the sight of a rest stop. Finally we made the last turn, and the Fayette County fairgrounds appeared. In the past this would be the end of the first day, but this year BHP's tent is in the overflow camping area in the Walmart parking lot, ingeniously dubbed "Camp Walmart", and it's three miles further. I'm really struggling now, but I dig deep and find enough to get me in.

I limp into the tent (right foot is killing me!) and receive a warm welcome from the Mules, who of course have been in for hours and are already several beers to the good. I find a Shiner beer in one of the coolers and slump into a chair next to Gregor, feeling about as bad as I ever have while riding. The lack of winter and spring training certainly took a toll. Somewhat refresshed IO struggle to my feet and go looking for my gear. I find my bag on a cot quite close to an exit - just what I wanted, perfect for the midnight loo visit - grab my sponge bag, towel and change of clothing and head off to the shower trucks.

My 2009 pledges ($11,000) put me in the top 300 fund-raiser club (Club 300) and entitled me to a few perks. The one I planned to make the most of was a dedicated shower truck, allowing me to skip the long wait at the other trucks. Sadly this wasn't offered at Camp Walmart, so I had two options - take the shuttle bus to the Fairgrounds and use the Club 300 truck there, or take the bus to La Grange High School and use their athletics facilities. The first bus I saw was heading to the High School, so I followed fate and jumped on. This turned out to be a poor choice, as the wait at the High School was pretty bad too. At least they supplied towels, which meant I didn't have to try and get mine dry before Sunday afternoon in Austin.

A short wait for a bus and I was back in Camp Walmart. I went over to the massage area and got in line. I don't really enjoy massages but it seemed like a good idea and Susan loves them. I chatted briefly with another rider while we watched a masseuse turn someone into a pretzel, then I was up. 20 minutes of agony followed - does this really help? Back with the Mules and time for the usual post-ride banter while we waited for the food to be ready. Fajitas, beans and rice and another Shiner to the good and I was feeling a lot better. At this point in the proceedings we're all starting to run out of steam and wondering how soon we can go to bed. But first, my duties as a host - David is in line for food so I join him for a chat. He had a great day in the saddle, riding with the Mules until the lunch break, when he left them still eating.

And so to bed, where I find I'm surrounded by Janis from work and her two adult children. I ask them if anyone snores and they both point to their Mum, who grins sheepishly. Fortunately I brought my ear-plugs. Into my sleeping bag and a quick call to Susan, yawning the whole time, before settling down.

I never sleep really well on the Saturday night - it's not very comfortable, I ache in every joint and I'm usually a bit wound up about the Sunday ride - but I get a few hours before movement in the camp wakes me up at about 4.30 am. The lights are still out so I try to be discrete as I gather up my riding gear and head over to the changing cube. Today I'm repping Club 300, with my brand-new top fundraiser jersey and socks. The lights come on (5.00am!) and I can start packing up and breaking down my cot, with help from Janis' son, who is in the USAF and spent three months in Iraq sleeping on one.

I dig out my bike maintenance bag and go looking for my steed, which had been left outside in the weather with all the others. It rained a bit overnight, so I dried her off, then cleaned the chain and applied lube. Richard comes by and I offer him the use of my rag and chain oil. He's suitably impressed by my preparedness and grateful for the chance to dress up his ride a bit.

Time for breakfast, and there's already quite a line for pancakes and breakfast tacos. It starts to rain so I pull on my rain jacket. Then it starts to rain really hard, and we cluster under the awning by the cooks. I snag a plateful of pancakes, a big gob of butter and a pint or two of maple syrup - wonderful. There's even half-way decent coffee from the nearby Exxon station. The rain stops, we load the truck and then line up for the start.

I could go to the front of the line (another Club 300 perk) but I hang back, chatting with Richard and Leslie. The hot topic, as ever on the Sunday, is which route to take to Bastrop. The traditional route through Buescher and Bastrop State parks is much more challenging than the express route, which is basically a straight shot up Highway 71. So far I've gone through the Parks every year and found it challenging and exhilarating, but it's much harder too, and after yesterday's slog I'm not really up for it. The heavy rain (now stopped) supplies a built-in excuse - the Park roads are likely to be wet and possibly dangerous.

So it's the lunch express route for me, out there in the traffic on 71 with several thousands of my closest friends. It's fast but tedious. I skip the first rest stop and run into Kevin and Tom at the second. We chat and Kevin points out that the lunch stop is about ten miles away. there's no way I'll be ready for food by then. Back on the road, Kevin and I keep pace for a while but he eventually hangs back a bit to allow Tom to catch him. Pretty soon we reach the junction where the two routes merge. I catch a rider just out of the park and ask him how it was - "Perfect" was the laconic response.

We descend into Bastrop, a very familiar route, crossing over the Colorado before turning into the high school. I'm really not ready for lunch and feeling pretty strong, so I blow past the stop. There's a decent head-wind and it starts to kick in pretty soon. The road is surprisingly quiet, given the size of the field. I'm passed by Gregor and some others in a paceline - if they're so fast, why were they behind me, anyway? Country roads, climbs and descents, and various species of road kill all roll past. I break at the next rest stop and eat a bit more than normal, to make up for missing lunch. I'm in Webberville, with about 30 miles to run. Normally I'd stop only once more, but I'm tiring and aching again, and hit both of the remaining break points.

I finally pass the Austin city limits sign (woo-hoo!) and now the right hand lane is coned off for us. The last ten miles includes four good climbs but I'm feeling no pain by now. Along one stretch I'm passed by a paceline lead by Jason, with Paddy and Phil in tow amongst others. I tag on to the line until the next climb, when I blow past (Jason is holding the pace down to keep the group together). Taylor calls out "Go Andy!" as I pass.

We can see the UT tower now and the end is definitely in sight. We run down through the University, turn on to MLK and we can see the barriers and crowds. One last left hander and there's the state capitol, framed under the finish sign. I try to smile and look happy but really I'm just glad to be done.

At the team tent I get a warm welcome and a cold beer. I grab my bag and head off to the shower trucks. Five minutes later I'm luxuriating in a strong flow of hot water - feels wonderful. Back at the tent and there's a hot lunch - very good lasagne, with steamed vegetables and salad. Definitely the best finish line lunch we've ever been served. Kevin and Tom roll up and we exchange celebratory fist bumps. David cruises in, too, looking as though he'd just had a pleasant jaunt around his neighbourhood. He'd decided to go easy, but also went through the park, which he enjoyed.

Time to head out. I get one of the last seats on a bus and doze my way back to Houston, where Susan is waiting to pick me up from the Omni. I arrive home to a hero's welcome, some decent Pinot Noir and a fabulous roast pork dinner. I could get used to this -

A Perfect Storm

Off to Zube on Sunday morning for my last ride before the event. I parked up with no sign of any Mules and wondered if I'd be a lone wolf again. I walked up to the rest room and spotted Jason's car on the far side of the lot. Just then Paddy rolled up to join him, and I saddled up and rode over. Gregor drove in, followed by Mike and Kenny, and I realised with a sinking heart that I would be riding with four of the strongest Mules in the stable - a Perfect Storm.

We set out at a cracking pace and I was soon wondering how long I would be able to stay with the group. I glued myself to Jason's rear tire and hung on for dear life. After a few miles I was feeling reasonably comfortable - perhaps I could hang with this crowd after all. I opted out of the sprints, though.

As we got up to the site of Sean's dog encounter, I found myself at number 2 wheel behind Kenny. Sure enough, a dog appeared and started to give chase, but he was just a puppy and clearly only looking for a runaround. Kenny and I took off and left him behind at the property line. Paddy decided that this was the last straw, and he dismounted and yelled at the mutt. Its owner appeared and Paddy gave him the finger! Not a good idea out in the Boonies where there are more guns than people.

Paddy was flagging a bit, so Jason and I hung back with him while the other three legged it for the gas station. I was a little in front of the other two as we approached the turn. I was wool-gathering or bird-watching or something, because Jason came up behind me very quietly, then yelled "Right turn!' in a Dame Edna falsetto in my ear. I nearly dumped the bike in surprise -rotten Kiwi bugger.

At the Exxon we hook up with Adam and Heather and decide to ride back as a group. I was expecting to return on the back road, but we headed for Business 290 instead. A stiffish head-wind greeted us and we settled into a tight peloton. It's really a lot of fun riding in a close group like that, or at least it was until I blew my back tire (again?). We only had a few miles to run, so I waved the others on. Paddy, bless him, opted to stay with me. I changed out the tube and inflated with a CO2 cartridge, but didn't do a good job because it lost pressure pretty fast. I pumped it up and struggled on, but it was pretty soft when we turned on to Roberts, with half a mile to run. I made it back but I'll need to do a better job on my field tire changes on the way to Austin.