I didn’t take the top pic to be patriotic, but to show the wind. It was really howling!

It’s time for me to crank up (pun intended) my bike training, in a big way. Today, despite 20 mph sustained winds with gusts to at least 35, I went out for my longest ride so far. I mapped out a roughly 60 mile loop from my house and hit the road. The wind took turns being a blessing and a curse. During my first leg, about 12 miles, I had the wind more or less at my back. I covered the distance with ease, averaging close to 20, hitting 37 on a quick downhill coast, and sprinting to 30 on a long flat stretch.

Then there were more than a few hills, some fun, some that I just suffered through, but my mood was still good. Turning south, I hit the headwind and the second stretch of bike path, and fought with the wind for the next 16 miles. That took it out of me. For stretches where the path surged out of the woods and was exposed, the wind hit me so hard I could only manage 10 mph. But I just kept pedaling, knowing that sooner or later the path would turn, and I’d only be fighting the crosswind. That leg was a definite reality check, after sailing with such relative ease through the first 25 miles.

Finally, after going a couple miles the wrong way at a bike path interchange, I turned out of the wind, and the pace I thought I’d never get back returned. Soon I was sailing along at 18 or so, enjoying the day, still battling the wind a little but at least winning. I began to toy with the idea of taking a wide approach to my neighborhood, to extend  the route to 62 miles, and check the box for a “metric century.” But then I remembered that taking that wide approach meant three extra climbs, and one of them was a real ball-buster. Scratch that!

I alternately limped and surged home, taking advantage of momentum when I could get it, but having to stop with increasing frequency to cross busy roads. That sapped yet more energy, and I was already fading, Hammer Gel and Stinger Waffle notwithstanding. I was having a hard enough time that, once I had covered 50 miles (my actual target for the day), I even thought about calling my wife to come get me! But I haven’t quit yet, and I wasn’t about to now, so I took a quick break at a park and pumped out the last 6 miles to the house.

In all, I’m very satisfied with today, as a training ride. Considering that it was over double the length of my previous long road ride, it went really well! I have a bit over two weeks until my first road bike race, and what I learned today has given me a lot to think about, as I consider which race to enter. But one thing is for sure, this bike absolutely rocks!

Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go eat a whole pizza. Because I can, after today.

My training schedule last week was a little bit of a mess. A series of scheduling conflicts, judgment errors, and problematic weather forecasts meant that I missed three straight days of workouts, something that hasn’t happened for months. Things finally came together again on Sunday, and I was able to get two sessions in to help make up ground. I did a nice little deadlift workout before work, and then squeezed in a bike ride in the late afternoon, testing out the new (higher) saddle position I’m experimenting with.

But, in keeping with the rest of the previous week, that didn’t go entirely to plan, either. I had picked a route of about 16 miles, with one decent little climb in the middle. My thought was to do a lap, see how I felt, and then possibly go for a second.

The headwind I met during my first couple of miles coupled with legs already tired from weightlifting to dissuade me from wanting that second lap. But then I managed to miss a turn, and rather than taking the road for the little hill climb outside of Clifton, I ended up almost in Xenia, finally linking up with the bike path that would take me back north to my start point. So I missed the hill, but tagged on an extra seven miles.

Still, I can’t be too upset. Things always work out the way they’re supposed to, and missing the hill was probably good for my legs, in the end. I did manage to keep a pretty respectable pace the whole time, which was also encouraging. The next chance I get with fresh legs, it’ll be time to log some more serious distance!

In the near future, the length of my road rides is going to increase substantially. While so far I’ve stayed within the relative safety of the bike path and the city, where cell phone service is ubiquitous and gas stations are plenty, very soon I’m going to find myself on roads and bike paths that seem to traverse the geographic center of nowhere.

With that in mind, it’s time for me to consider some contingencies, the most obvious of which is a flat tire. Flats are an annoyance on the mountain bike, necessitating a trailside repair, or if ill-equipped, a lengthy hike back to the car. But on a road bike, when you’re 20 miles from the nearest anything, and in shoes about as comfortable for walking as two planks of wood, a flat is an absolute deal-breaker if you can’t fix it.

So I headed off to Performance Bike with a gift card and some reward points, and pieced together this little kit. It’s a spare tube, a CO2 inflator kit with extra bottles, tire levers, and a patch kit. All bundled together as snug as it can be, it’s about twice the size of my wallet, and doesn’t make any noise, courtesy of an old tube cut up and used as an insulator.

But that brings me to a quandary. You see, roadies are notorious for being both judgmental and vain, and while I’m not known for my propensity to try and fit in, neither do I like being laughed at. For that matter, when it comes to stepping out of my comfort zone (as only wearing lycra in public can illustrate), I’d rather be noticed as little as possible.

The roadie ethos can effectively be summed up, “less is more.” Never have two bottle cages when you can get away with one.Wear as little clothing, regardless of weather, as you can without going to either jail or the hospital. Make sure your entire kit matches, and compliments your bike. Don’t strap anything to your bike that it isn’t directly involved in making it go. And for the love of everything asphalt, don’t wear a backpack. The list goes on and on, in a very “I’m just kidding, but no, really” sort of way.

This leaves you with a problem. A lot of roadies profess to stuffing this whole conglomeration (or one very much like it) in a jersey pocket, thus preserving the sacred aesthetic of their bicycle. But then you have your keys, your phone, some nutrition, a wallet of sorts, possibly a rain jacket, some warm up pants for if you want to stop and get lunch and don’t want to be stared at (I mentioned the lycra, right?) or leave sweaty butt print on the chair when you leave again…

While you may be able to apply enough creativity to make all of these things fit in the three pockets on the back of your cycling jersey, now you have three stretchy, bouncing tumors in the small of your back, soaking up sweat and generally annoying the crap out of you. For four hours or more.

Thanks, but no thanks. I’m getting a seat bag, rules be damned. I might be a budding one, but I still think roadies are dumb. And I’m not shaving my legs, either.