The Leashed Trail Dog

It's a sad sight. A leash connecting a dog to a bike. For both Lucy and me, the trail is supposed to be freedom. Freedom to run and ride as fast or as slow as we want. Freedom to take the familiar path through the local woods or the new trail to unknown places. Anywhere to escape the city, and yes, harass the wildlife (they'll get over it). It's one of my main reasons for riding. But, with the strict leash laws in Fort Collins, that freedom is nowhere to be found.

While it's possible to ride single track with Lucy on a leash, it means we have to go slower to avoid accidents, and I also have to match her pace which is not always easy or safe (or fun). Occasionally, I see dogs off leash and am tempted to ignore the law. But, it's different for hikers. They'll notice when a ranger is up ahead, whereas I'm concentrated on my front wheel and what's immediately in front of it. I unleashed her for a short stretch on our last trail ride, and it was SO much better. Just yesterday, though, I saw someone getting ticketed for it. That's not something I can afford. For now, we've been riding the neighborhoods which lets us go a little faster with a lot less stress despite the traffic. We've also found some short stretches of double track in nearby Natural Areas that's manageable. There's a trail 20-30 minutes north of town that allows off leash running, but that'll have to wait for drier weather.

Leash laws were not something I researched before moving here, but I'll check the next place better. Or, just move somewhere rural where no one cares. Maybe Fort Collins will adopt a verbal command exception like Boulder, or a small, nice, harmless dog exception. Just wishful thinking.

Ride Report: Taft-Glade Loop

I wasn't planning on righting about this ride, but it turned out to be fun and eventful. I've been sick the last few days, but I was feeling better today in spite of still coughing and blowing my nose frequently. I thought a good bike ride would help blow the rest of it out. Looking at this route on a map, it's 10 miles to Loveland, so I figured the loop should be 20 - 25. It turned out to be 36 somehow. Still, a good distance.

It started off with a straight shot down Taft Hill Rd to Loveland through rolling hills and wide open plains. The openness of the land still catches me by surprise. Being from Mississippi, I'm always expecting corridors of trees lining the road. I, then, cut over to Glade Rd which runs along the valley behind the first set of foothills. Along the way I discovered three new mountain bike trail heads including Devil's Backbone, which looks exactly like it sounds: a towering rocky ridge formation jutting straight up from the ground. Unfortunately, I forgot my camera, but I'll be back there soon.

Most of the route consisted of comfortable rolling hills or gradual ascents and descents, but there were a couple of hills toward the end that had me wishing for a granny gear going up and nearly wetting myself going down. In fact, I broke my personal speed record at 43.4mph. During which, my mind drifted back to the last book series I read - Divergent. I just thought: be like the Dauntless. Silly, I know. At one point on one of the last long climbs, I noticed there were red rocks on the left side of the road and grey on the right. When I say rocks I mean 200ft rocky hills. I have no idea why they're different, but I thought it was interesting.

I rounded the southern tip of Horsetooth Reservoir and hammered on home. Finished it off with a PBR and some frozen Chinese food. Now, I'm just looking forward to my interview Monday and temp work Tuesday.

Drawing the Line

It might be a while before I have another adventure. It's friggin' cold here. It's so cold, the two windows in the house that aren't double pane have frozen condensation on them. The high today was 3 with wind chill in the negatives. I'm sick. And, I still went for a (brief) ride. Masochistic? Maybe. Along with my cold, I was also feeling the onset of cabin fever. I had to get outside and do something.

Overall, the ride wasn't actually that bad. Some long johns under my jeans would've been nice, but my wool socks, fleece, and windbreaker kept me comfortable along with a balaclava and ski goggles, of course. The main issue was my hands. Even with ski gloves, they were hurting within a mile. By the end of the ride, at 3ish miles, I literally could not feel my fingers. The stinging sensation when they were warming up was the worst. Also, I found it a little unnerving when my rear wheel broke loose under acceleration at 17mph. Slick roads. I got a thumbs up from a guy waiting for the bus though.

Best of all, it gave me a good excuse for hot cider, my new favorite winter beverage, which is loaded with Vitamin C (bonus!). I still don't know what the average winter weather around here is. My first two weeks here, highs were in the 50's with 70mph winds. Now, highs are in the single digits with lots of snow. If this is the norm, I may need some mittens and chemical hand warmers for my bike excursions. Otherwise, I'll have to draw the line at 15 degrees.

A Tribute to Past and Present Bikes

Every so often I find myself reminiscing over previous bikes and the adventures they brought. Some I wish I still had; others weren't so great. So, here's a tribute to my previous bikes beginning with the one that started it all.

(Note: the bike pictured here was not mine but one very similar if not identical.) As much as I, and other cyclists, talk bad about Wal-Mart bikes, I've got to give it some credit. Don't get me wrong, it was terrible: poor traction, chain-skip, ghost shifting, and heavier than my current bikes combined. But, it got me into the sport/obsession/lifestyle. Sure I had bikes as a kid, but this was my first bike as a teenager/young adult.  I rode my first trail on the Next. It got me to class in high school (when gas was close to $4 and my truck got 13mpg) and through my first semester of college. It finally died when the derailleur broke on a muddy trail. It would've cost more to fix than a new bike.

Then, came the Specialized Hardrock. Previously owned but never ridden. An entry level but name brand bike. And oh, how much better it was! Lighter weight, better traction, good brakes, and smooth shifting. The suspension actually moved occasionally. It lasted over a year and a half until I moved to Oxford and started riding daily. I needed more speed.

The Stumpjumper was my first race-worthy bike. With disc brakes, air sprung suspension, precise shifting, and super light weight, it was a fast and smooth. I wish I still had it, but the idea of single speeding crept into my head 6 months after I bought it. It started when I found myself shifting too much up and down hills. So one day I decided not to shift. It was difficult but fun. Gradually I progressed into harder, faster gears and eventually converted it. Reading about the benefits of single speeds, I noticed a lot of people had rigid forks and 29er wheels vs my 26. The theory being that larger wheels carry momentum and roll over obstacles better, and rigid forks offer greater efficiency. So I rode with my fork locked out for a while, loved the added challenge, and decided to build a rigid single speed 29er.

My current mountain bike. The On One Inbred. It's nearly perfect: simple, agile, minimalist, reliable. It's carried me through a year of hard racing with several podium finishes and more than a few endurance rides including a 12hr race and a metric century. It's one I plan to keep for a while. Sometimes I find myself longing for gears and suspension, but that'll have to come in the form of another bike.

1989 Specialized Rockhopper. This one I built up about the same time as the Inbred, after parting out the Stumpjumper. It's purpose was to simply be a commuter/town bike. It was such a cool bike. Fixed gear with only a front brake. Another minimalist bike. Sadly, I sold it because it filled no real purpose. My road bike was faster around town, and my mountain bike was more capable and more comfortable off road. It got lots of compliments though.

1985 Schwinn Traveler. This was one of my favorite bikes and only cost $100. It was a tank, but I loved it's quirks. Like friction stem shifters, suicide brake levers and 20+ year old brake pads that were questionable when dry, deadly in rain. The frame flexed so much that the brakes rubbed on hard corners, and the wheels were so heavy the gyro effect over 30mph was incredible! I also loved the flashy red paint job. It was replaced with a modern road bike with intentions of racing, but I'm keeping my eye out for another like it.

 

My other current bike: On One Pompino. This bike was built by a frame swap with a Trek road bike. It's a cyclocross, commuter, utility, endurance, adventure, bar, hack bike. I've done a fixed gear century, made grocery runs, and ridden it on trails. I can set it up geared, single speed or fixed, slick tires, knobby tires, racks, fenders, you name it. It's such a perfect bike, it's almost not challenging enough. It'll probably be around for a while as well.

So, there they are. My previous rides in all their glory. Some will be missed, others will be ridden hard and hung up wet. Hopefully, this will serve as a guide to those thinking about testing the waters of the cycling lifestyle. It's ok to start small and cheap. Just keep in mind the correct number of bikes to own is always N + 1 (Or 2 or 6) where N is the number you currently own. Do you have any bikes you regret selling?

The Story of Lucy

 

It all started on a cold December Thursday. I had just finished up my exams for the semester and decided to unwind on a 35 mile ride on my new-to-me 1985 Schwinn Traveler road bike. The previous night temperatures got down to 26 degrees and the night before that it had snowed. But, that afternoon was just warm enough for a ride at 50 degrees.

The first half of the ride was uneventful, peaceful. Rural roads stretching through farmland. After the road turned back towards home and I crossed Highway 7, I found myself unsure of where to go. Naturally, I meandered through winding residential roads, heading in the general direction of home. After a mile or so of uncomfortable gravel grinding, I finally reached a road that looked right. When the road curved near Hurricane Landing, I knew I was on track. I stopped for a few bites of a Cliff Bar to help me push through the final leg of my route. The sun was getting low and the temperature dropping along with it.

A few hills later, I saw what I thought was a cat sitting on the side of the road. Upon closer inspection it turned out to be a scruffy little puppy. I had never brought a stray dog home before and haven't since (although I've wanted to). But, something that day made me double-back. She didn't trust me at first, just ran circles around me barking. So, I sat down and tried to make myself look nonthreatening. She timidly walked up and rolled over in my lap. She looked hungry, but all I had was a piece of a chocolate cliff bar. So, I gave her a belly rub. I had to get back, but maybe she would follow me.

And, follow she did. She ran behind me for 2 or 3 miles. I asked the few people we passed if they recognized her, but no one did. As I was calling her to follow me, I decided to name her Lucy. It was the first name that came to me. Sometimes I wish I would've gone with something more unique, but the name stuck. Suddenly, two big dogs ran at us, aggression in their eyes. After a quick smell, they decided the scrawny pup wasn't worth the effort. We kept on. As the light faded and Lucy slowed, I picked her up, hurried to get home. Riding one handed wasn't ideal, but at least the old-school components allowed for brake and shifter access from the top of the bar. A mile, or so, later, a lady in a small pick-up stopped and offered us a ride. I was hesitant, with "don't ride with strangers" echoing in my head from childhood. But, she seemed nice, and I realised I needed the help. Threw my bike in the back, and a few minutes later, I was home. Tired, cold and hungry, but not so much as Lucy.

An introduction to Stryker, some food, a long bath, and she was out. For two weeks she ate twice what she does now and slept, mostly in the chair across the room, still leery of Houston and me.

For a while I wondered about her history, but I'm now certain someone dumped her there. She hardly lets me out of her sight; she wouldn't have wondered away from her home. And, it's easy to see why. She wasn't house trained and punishment only confused her. It took me a while to figure out to reward her for going outside, but she caught on quickly after that. Also, she has an extreme amount of energy. Every other day she needs to run 7-12 miles to let it all out. It seems only a mountain biker could give her the exercise she needs. Fate.