Sometimes I miss my days in Colorado with no TV and little to no Internet. It forced me to live a more productive and more interesting life. But, now that I'm not living in the Boondocks anymore, I've fallen back into old habits. It's easier to be forced than to summon the will power to step away from the TV. Fortunately some shows are just aweful enough to make me think about doing something else. For instance, the other day I turned on the TV and found a video game competition (I think) on TBS. Who wants to watch other people play video games? What.....the.....Fuck? Surely TV stations must be dying if their scraping that low in the barrel. One of my new year's resolutions is to read a book whenever I get the urge to watch TV. I usually feel guilty reading for fun instead of studying, but I think I can maintain a good balance (It's better than TV anyways).
The other part of this resolution is the Internet. Crappy TV shows are easy to avoid, but the Internet has genuinely interesting things. I can spend hours exploring the rabbit holes from article to article. But while a lot of articles are interesting, they add no value to my life. Some of them can actually be mentally draining. Facebook has become an infinite source of rabbit holes and is a complete mental minefield. Thanks to the recent assault of political posts, I've realised what a huge time-suck Facebook really is. It's nauseating to see post after post spewing lies and hate. Sometimes even from close friends and family. So, to avoid starting a lot of unproductive arguments, I went through and unfollowed everyone except for close current friends and select family members. Still, I'd rather abstain from it altogether. I'll keep an active account for now, but it may be deleted before too long. Cutting out Facebook should increase my online productivity by quite a large margin. My second resolution: waste less time.
I also have a goal of riding more miles than I drive. This year I'll break 5000 miles on the bike, but will have driven around 8000. It would be difficult to ride more, so my plan is simply to drive less. Right now, I really only drive to get groceries every couple of weeks and on long distance trips. I probably won't keep track of my biking miles as religiously as I have this year, so I'll focus on getting my driving miles down to around 5000 or so.
Another goal is to get the cycling club more active. The core group of four racers are really the only ones that ride regularly. Next semester we'll come up with a better schedule for more social-paced rides. My mission is to get people riding without the core group so that the club will survive when we're gone.
Lastly, my final goal is to spend less money. That number is already pretty low, but I can certainly spend less on bikes. A four bike fleet is more than enough to keep me occupied, and the occasional maintenance is fairly inexpensive. Also, driving less will save money, and the cycling club is now allocated enough money to cover travel expenses, entry fees, and race licenses. So there you have it: my resolutions for 2017 - most have already been put into practice.
12.04.2016
10.13.2016
Speed Theory
Rule Number 1: Always ride for fun first.
When you ride for fun, riding is it's own motivation. It's not a workout. It's not exercise. There is only the intrinsic joy of being in the woods, conquering climbs and technical sections, and ripping the descents. In general, I find it's more fun to ride fast, and good endurance means you can have fun longer. So, here's my take on how to do that.
Speed on a mountain bike can be broken down into two major categories: fitness and technique. Most people put too little emphasis on technique. It's evident in races when they slow up in the tight sections, but hammer the straight-a-ways. It's also evident when I go on road rides and eat the dust of people I could beat on the trails. I think most of my competition on the trail could destroy me on the road.
Technique
Acceleration takes a lot of energy, so the more speed one can carry, the easier and faster one can ride. This is why technique is important, specifically cornering. To maintain speed through a corner, one also needs to maintain traction or at least slide predictably and as little as possible. At high speeds, traction depends less on tread pattern and more on line choice. The most traction is generally found along the outside edge of the turn. Traction also depends on suspension setup and weight distribution. Experimentation is key here. Loose corners need to be taken with very little weight on the handlebars to keep the front wheel from washing out. Bumpy corners need a lot of weight on the handlebars to keep the tire planted (assuming you have good suspension set up properly).
Another good technique is to look several seconds ahead rather than at what you're immediately about to run over. Make a mental note of obstacles and anticipate when you'll hit them. By looking ahead, you'll be able to brake less and maintain more speed. It takes a little practice, but I noticed an immediate speed increase when I figured this out. A word of caution: this technique can get you in trouble quick when riding on a layer of pinestraw or in tight trees.
Good posture is also important and trumps being aero - applies to both road and trail. Shoulders down, arms slightly bent, spine elongated; expect to use lots of core strength. Correct handlebar height and width is important; I'm fairly short and still ride 720mm bars level with the seat. Rarely is a slammed stem a good idea. Good posture will let you take advantage of your full lung capacity and help you maintain control.
Fitness
Fitness gets covered a lot, and there are lots of theories on how to improve. It basically boils down to strength and lactate threshold. Strength can be built with intervals (not fun), single speeds (lots of fun), and driving rickshaws (fun and profitable). Lactate threshold determines what power output one can sustain. For a newer rider, ten minute intervals are good, otherwise, racing and race-paced rides are good ways to bump up this speed limit. I find that LT training is best done on solo road rides.
I like to find that race-pace sweet spot and hover around that level of power output. I may go above threshold when riding uphill but not so much that I blow up. Then dip slightly below threshold on the downhills but only enough to recover. Learning to recover while maintaining speed (or even accelerating) is another key point. I find it's best to shift positions and focus on engaging different muscle groups. For instance I'll sit forward and engage my quads on the climbs, then shift back and focus on pulling up on the pedals on the descents.
Efficiency
When you put technique and fitness together, you get efficiency. A constant power output is much more efficient than on and off hard pedalling. Unfortunately, XC racing is largely on/off, but maintaining speed through the corners and momentum up and over the hills can increase efficiency. This is a major concern even in a two hour race and more so for longer races. Maintaining flow is usually faster than cycles of hard pedalling and hard braking.
Structure (or lack of)
I understand that some people are motivated by numerical improvements and thrive in a structured routine with scheduled intensity levels, but I've never been one of those people. Sure it's cool to see mileage and average speed, but beyond that I get bored. Power meters, heart rate monitors, cadence sensors, and even cycling computers are all unnecessary. I have one simple computer on my road bike for keeping up with mileage and time, but that's it. I prefer to ride by feel. Even in the TNGA I didn't track mileage. I have more fun just riding.
Structure may be unnecessary, but variation is good: short fast rides, long slow rides, short slow rides, long fast rides... Ride how you feel. Ride for as long as you want. There are days when you'll need to apply Rule #5: HTFU. And then there are days when knowing your limit is key. Rest days are good. Sometimes rest weeks are even necessary after a hard month of riding.
In conclusion, ride a lot, ride fast, ride slow, experiment with weight distribution and bike setup, practice the technical sections, and if you find yourself crashing too much, you're not riding fast enough.
When you ride for fun, riding is it's own motivation. It's not a workout. It's not exercise. There is only the intrinsic joy of being in the woods, conquering climbs and technical sections, and ripping the descents. In general, I find it's more fun to ride fast, and good endurance means you can have fun longer. So, here's my take on how to do that.
Speed on a mountain bike can be broken down into two major categories: fitness and technique. Most people put too little emphasis on technique. It's evident in races when they slow up in the tight sections, but hammer the straight-a-ways. It's also evident when I go on road rides and eat the dust of people I could beat on the trails. I think most of my competition on the trail could destroy me on the road.
Technique
Acceleration takes a lot of energy, so the more speed one can carry, the easier and faster one can ride. This is why technique is important, specifically cornering. To maintain speed through a corner, one also needs to maintain traction or at least slide predictably and as little as possible. At high speeds, traction depends less on tread pattern and more on line choice. The most traction is generally found along the outside edge of the turn. Traction also depends on suspension setup and weight distribution. Experimentation is key here. Loose corners need to be taken with very little weight on the handlebars to keep the front wheel from washing out. Bumpy corners need a lot of weight on the handlebars to keep the tire planted (assuming you have good suspension set up properly).
Another good technique is to look several seconds ahead rather than at what you're immediately about to run over. Make a mental note of obstacles and anticipate when you'll hit them. By looking ahead, you'll be able to brake less and maintain more speed. It takes a little practice, but I noticed an immediate speed increase when I figured this out. A word of caution: this technique can get you in trouble quick when riding on a layer of pinestraw or in tight trees.
Good posture is also important and trumps being aero - applies to both road and trail. Shoulders down, arms slightly bent, spine elongated; expect to use lots of core strength. Correct handlebar height and width is important; I'm fairly short and still ride 720mm bars level with the seat. Rarely is a slammed stem a good idea. Good posture will let you take advantage of your full lung capacity and help you maintain control.
Fitness
Fitness gets covered a lot, and there are lots of theories on how to improve. It basically boils down to strength and lactate threshold. Strength can be built with intervals (not fun), single speeds (lots of fun), and driving rickshaws (fun and profitable). Lactate threshold determines what power output one can sustain. For a newer rider, ten minute intervals are good, otherwise, racing and race-paced rides are good ways to bump up this speed limit. I find that LT training is best done on solo road rides.
I like to find that race-pace sweet spot and hover around that level of power output. I may go above threshold when riding uphill but not so much that I blow up. Then dip slightly below threshold on the downhills but only enough to recover. Learning to recover while maintaining speed (or even accelerating) is another key point. I find it's best to shift positions and focus on engaging different muscle groups. For instance I'll sit forward and engage my quads on the climbs, then shift back and focus on pulling up on the pedals on the descents.
Efficiency
When you put technique and fitness together, you get efficiency. A constant power output is much more efficient than on and off hard pedalling. Unfortunately, XC racing is largely on/off, but maintaining speed through the corners and momentum up and over the hills can increase efficiency. This is a major concern even in a two hour race and more so for longer races. Maintaining flow is usually faster than cycles of hard pedalling and hard braking.
Structure (or lack of)
I understand that some people are motivated by numerical improvements and thrive in a structured routine with scheduled intensity levels, but I've never been one of those people. Sure it's cool to see mileage and average speed, but beyond that I get bored. Power meters, heart rate monitors, cadence sensors, and even cycling computers are all unnecessary. I have one simple computer on my road bike for keeping up with mileage and time, but that's it. I prefer to ride by feel. Even in the TNGA I didn't track mileage. I have more fun just riding.
Structure may be unnecessary, but variation is good: short fast rides, long slow rides, short slow rides, long fast rides... Ride how you feel. Ride for as long as you want. There are days when you'll need to apply Rule #5: HTFU. And then there are days when knowing your limit is key. Rest days are good. Sometimes rest weeks are even necessary after a hard month of riding.
In conclusion, ride a lot, ride fast, ride slow, experiment with weight distribution and bike setup, practice the technical sections, and if you find yourself crashing too much, you're not riding fast enough.
9.05.2016
Hard Nox 50
If there's one thing a state park should do before an event, it's restock the toilet paper in the bathroom. I used to always keep a roll in my truck, and I guess I need to keep one in the hatchback. Fortunately one of the racers found a handful for a few of us to share.
The Hard Nox 50 started off on foot with a short jog to the bike. I'm not much of a runner anymore, especially in bike shoes, but I figured I had plenty of time to catch up on the bike. The first twelve miles or so were spent doing just that - rubbing tires in the singletrack and passing when it opened up. Halfway through the first lap, I'd made it to fourth. A few miles later, I was in second with third on fourth on my tail. Up until this point, I was riding extremely well. I was hauling ass and felt great. I could hear the guys behind me breathing much harder than I was. I felt sure that I could outlast them. I'm going to be optimistic and say that at that pace I could've gotten first.
But after about an hour and a half, I hit a wall. It started with a big-ass snake lying in the middle of a switchback, which broke my concentration and forced me to step off the bike. Not the best time to be putting a foot down. As I watched third and fourth pass me and suffer up the hill in misery, I thought to myself, "That doesn't look fun." I didn't really feel like chasing after them again. A series of demoralizing climbs - where the trail builders forgot what switchbacks were - further dampened my mood. I switched from race-pace to endurance-pace to finish the first lap.
I crossed the line, started the second lap, and came to realize that eating a Clif Bar when your mouth is dry is nearly impossible. I used almost half a water bottle to flush it down. A few miles into lap two, I would've sworn that this entire course was uphill. Big climbs followed by short descents; where it evens out, I still don't know. Now in seventh, I stopped at the sag halfway through to refill my water bottle and speed up my rebound for the upcoming roots - hard to say if it really helped.
I kept on cruising even though it wasn't really fun anymore. I was tired of racing and started thinking about the off season when I can focus more on fun and less on speed. It was hot when I hit the steep climbs again. I even walked one of them and was pleasantly surprised at how easy it is to push a light bike up a hill. I stopped again a few miles from the finish to refill at a water fountain. I could've made it, but I was already pretty dehydrated at that point.
I crossed the finish in seventh overall and fifth in my age group. There was a fast old guy and a really fast barely-old guy. Eventhough I did pretty well, I'm still disappointed for not riding as well as I could've. My time was even a few minutes slower than last year, but I've accepted it as the price I pay during recovery from the TNGA. Staying fuelled up for an endurance ride is easy; I can eat just about anything. But staying fuelled up to maintain race-pace is something that eludes me. You can bet I'll figure it out before next year though.
The Hard Nox 50 started off on foot with a short jog to the bike. I'm not much of a runner anymore, especially in bike shoes, but I figured I had plenty of time to catch up on the bike. The first twelve miles or so were spent doing just that - rubbing tires in the singletrack and passing when it opened up. Halfway through the first lap, I'd made it to fourth. A few miles later, I was in second with third on fourth on my tail. Up until this point, I was riding extremely well. I was hauling ass and felt great. I could hear the guys behind me breathing much harder than I was. I felt sure that I could outlast them. I'm going to be optimistic and say that at that pace I could've gotten first.
But after about an hour and a half, I hit a wall. It started with a big-ass snake lying in the middle of a switchback, which broke my concentration and forced me to step off the bike. Not the best time to be putting a foot down. As I watched third and fourth pass me and suffer up the hill in misery, I thought to myself, "That doesn't look fun." I didn't really feel like chasing after them again. A series of demoralizing climbs - where the trail builders forgot what switchbacks were - further dampened my mood. I switched from race-pace to endurance-pace to finish the first lap.
I crossed the line, started the second lap, and came to realize that eating a Clif Bar when your mouth is dry is nearly impossible. I used almost half a water bottle to flush it down. A few miles into lap two, I would've sworn that this entire course was uphill. Big climbs followed by short descents; where it evens out, I still don't know. Now in seventh, I stopped at the sag halfway through to refill my water bottle and speed up my rebound for the upcoming roots - hard to say if it really helped.
I kept on cruising even though it wasn't really fun anymore. I was tired of racing and started thinking about the off season when I can focus more on fun and less on speed. It was hot when I hit the steep climbs again. I even walked one of them and was pleasantly surprised at how easy it is to push a light bike up a hill. I stopped again a few miles from the finish to refill at a water fountain. I could've made it, but I was already pretty dehydrated at that point.
I crossed the finish in seventh overall and fifth in my age group. There was a fast old guy and a really fast barely-old guy. Eventhough I did pretty well, I'm still disappointed for not riding as well as I could've. My time was even a few minutes slower than last year, but I've accepted it as the price I pay during recovery from the TNGA. Staying fuelled up for an endurance ride is easy; I can eat just about anything. But staying fuelled up to maintain race-pace is something that eludes me. You can bet I'll figure it out before next year though.
9.01.2016
TNGA: Part 3
Day Four
I saw two riders come and go during the night. I woke frequently and checked the time. At 3:30am I was fairly alert after 6.5 hours of sleep. I noticed the concrete was still pretty warm even though it was late and cool out. That's when I developed the theory that there was some exothermic decomposition going on in the pit. So, my thanks go out to the people of Dalton for crapping in the pit toilet and keeping me warm through the night. Seeing as I was awake and feeling pretty good, I figured this was as good a time as any to keep on riding. I was hopeful that I might be able to finish mid-morning.
I say I was feeling good, that is, until I got back on the bike and realized that my legs were dead. It was all I could do to soft-pedal. The slightest incline would reduce me to grinding away in my granny-gear, and anything significant, I walked up. At 5:30am I got sleepy again and laid down on a gravel road for a few minutes, keeping my helmet on as a pillow. I wore down the battery on my helmet light, switched to my handlebar light, and slowly made my way through an overgrown section of The Snake. I made it to the next trailhead just as the sun was coming up.
The next two sections seemed to take forever. I stopped to eat and rest a lot. I walked up most of the hills. Every time I attempted to put out any amount of power, my legs collapsed under the burn of lactic acid, I presume from all the hike-a-biking the day before.
Eventually I made it to the ridge that led to Highway 27, where I knew there was a gas station that I desperately needed, since I was now out of water. I followed the gravel road down to the highway only to find that my GPS said I was off route. I briefly hoped it was wrong again, but I knew what the topography should look like. And I knew I was not in the right place. This was frustrating, but I made my way to the gas station to take a break. I ate a chicken sandwich, half a hamburger, drank a Sprite and half a Gatorade. I filled up my water bottle thinking that would be enough to get me to the finish, "2" hours away. It might've on a normal day but not when I'm already dehydrated and it's 95 degrees. And not when it actually takes 3 hours.
I pedalled to where the trail should've dumped me out and somehow found the will to backtrack the singletrack that I missed. It only took about 15 minutes to correct the mistake, but it was soul-crushing to pedal any extra when I already felt like I was dying.
I climbed up the last ridge, watching my GPS track closely, making sure I didn't miss another turn. Some nice singletrack put me out on the next highway. I felt like I was home free. I quickly ran out of water as I started the "Rail-Trail to Hell" in the mid-day sun. My body knew it was almost over and started shutting down prematurely. Everything started to hurt. The last few miles might've been the most painful, but I kept grinding away, knowing I was almost to Alabama. Just before drying up into dust, I reached the finish, marked by a lonely gas station and a ride waiting to go back to Mulberry Gap.
Conclusion
Am I glad I did it? Definitely. Would I do it again? Eh, maybe. I can't help but strategize about how I'd do things differently. I'd definitely like to do more bikepacking but maybe under more relaxed conditions. My body took a beating from the North Georgia mountains; I developed some slight nerve damage along the side of my right hand and in my left big toe. I can't tell if the feeling is coming back or if I'm just getting used to the numbness. On the positive side, I'm no longer afraid of the dark or long distances. I also have a new appreciation for everyday comforts like showers and beds. I feel like I can ride anywhere, anytime, and regular life seems a little bit easier. It's always about the journey.
I saw two riders come and go during the night. I woke frequently and checked the time. At 3:30am I was fairly alert after 6.5 hours of sleep. I noticed the concrete was still pretty warm even though it was late and cool out. That's when I developed the theory that there was some exothermic decomposition going on in the pit. So, my thanks go out to the people of Dalton for crapping in the pit toilet and keeping me warm through the night. Seeing as I was awake and feeling pretty good, I figured this was as good a time as any to keep on riding. I was hopeful that I might be able to finish mid-morning.
I say I was feeling good, that is, until I got back on the bike and realized that my legs were dead. It was all I could do to soft-pedal. The slightest incline would reduce me to grinding away in my granny-gear, and anything significant, I walked up. At 5:30am I got sleepy again and laid down on a gravel road for a few minutes, keeping my helmet on as a pillow. I wore down the battery on my helmet light, switched to my handlebar light, and slowly made my way through an overgrown section of The Snake. I made it to the next trailhead just as the sun was coming up.
The next two sections seemed to take forever. I stopped to eat and rest a lot. I walked up most of the hills. Every time I attempted to put out any amount of power, my legs collapsed under the burn of lactic acid, I presume from all the hike-a-biking the day before.
Eventually I made it to the ridge that led to Highway 27, where I knew there was a gas station that I desperately needed, since I was now out of water. I followed the gravel road down to the highway only to find that my GPS said I was off route. I briefly hoped it was wrong again, but I knew what the topography should look like. And I knew I was not in the right place. This was frustrating, but I made my way to the gas station to take a break. I ate a chicken sandwich, half a hamburger, drank a Sprite and half a Gatorade. I filled up my water bottle thinking that would be enough to get me to the finish, "2" hours away. It might've on a normal day but not when I'm already dehydrated and it's 95 degrees. And not when it actually takes 3 hours.
I pedalled to where the trail should've dumped me out and somehow found the will to backtrack the singletrack that I missed. It only took about 15 minutes to correct the mistake, but it was soul-crushing to pedal any extra when I already felt like I was dying.
I climbed up the last ridge, watching my GPS track closely, making sure I didn't miss another turn. Some nice singletrack put me out on the next highway. I felt like I was home free. I quickly ran out of water as I started the "Rail-Trail to Hell" in the mid-day sun. My body knew it was almost over and started shutting down prematurely. Everything started to hurt. The last few miles might've been the most painful, but I kept grinding away, knowing I was almost to Alabama. Just before drying up into dust, I reached the finish, marked by a lonely gas station and a ride waiting to go back to Mulberry Gap.
Conclusion
Am I glad I did it? Definitely. Would I do it again? Eh, maybe. I can't help but strategize about how I'd do things differently. I'd definitely like to do more bikepacking but maybe under more relaxed conditions. My body took a beating from the North Georgia mountains; I developed some slight nerve damage along the side of my right hand and in my left big toe. I can't tell if the feeling is coming back or if I'm just getting used to the numbness. On the positive side, I'm no longer afraid of the dark or long distances. I also have a new appreciation for everyday comforts like showers and beds. I feel like I can ride anywhere, anytime, and regular life seems a little bit easier. It's always about the journey.
8.28.2016
TNGA: Part 2
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I awoke at dawn Sunday morning to a sore throat and sinus congestion. Allergies (or something) that would last the rest of the ride. I was also feeling pretty stiff and sore; a picnic table doesn't make the best bed. After a few handfuls of trail mix, I packed up and was off, heading up Wolfpen Gap. About halfway up, I was suffering. It's a paved road, but it's an awfully big, steep climb - not the best way to start the morning. I was starting to get emotional when I realized I was just hungry. I'd eaten a lot at Woody's the night before, but all of that had been used up by my body repairing itself while I slept. I pulled over and sat down on the side of the road to eat some more trail mix and a Clif Bar.
Once the pavement topped out, I turned onto Duncan Ridge for more climbing on gravel. When the road turned downhill, I decided to open up the suspension for a much smoother ride and left it that way for the rest of the trip. After that, it was an easy cruise to the convenience store at Cooper's Creek where I ate a chicken biscuit, chilli dog, chips, and half a pulled pork sandwich, saving the other half for later.
I pressed on and soon found that my underwear wasn't drying well (actually still damp from the day before) and was beginning to get uncomfortable. So, I made the bold move to ditch it and go commando for a while. It felt great to get some airflow, but I was concerned about additional chafeage.
After a couple more hours of paved, dirt, and gravel roads, I came to Iron Bridge Cafe where I stopped to eat again. This time I went for a chicken wrap, chips, and a Coke. By this point, I was completely filthy, smelled like a goat, and was probably alarming to the two young mothers there with their herd of kids. I ate my chicken wrap while walking up the short but ridiculously steep hill down the road from the cafe. Then, it was off to the Aska Trails and infamous Stanley Gap.
Stanley turned out not to be that bad. It had been described to me as a 45 minute to 2 hour hike-a-bike, but I managed to ride up a good bit of it with great effort. Once again, I found myself riding through a cloud. The rocks and roots were slick as could be, but I made my way down the backside, took a hard right onto the gravel road, and started blazing downhill. After a few minutes I checked the map on my phone only to find that it said I was a ways off course. How could this be? I was certain that I was on the right road, and I did NOT want to ride back up that giant hill. I said a few choice words, rode in circles for a minute, then started back up the hill, hoping the GPS was wrong. After a couple minutes, it updated and said I was indeed on route. I turned around again and booked it to Cherry Log and the Pink Pig BBQ.
At the Pink Pig, I ordered a hamburger steak with peppers, onions and mushrooms, sweet potato fries, a baked potato, and lemonade. I went back outside to tinker with my gear and get my phone to study the upcoming route. Some locals started asking questions about my ride and probably thought I was crazy for riding such long distances. I set my gloves out to dry, only to have it start raining once I went back inside. I got some chocolate ice cream for dessert, topped of my water, and took my baked potato to go.
Some more paved and gravel roads led up to Watson Gap, where I turned onto FS 64 - practically the final stretch to Mulberry Gap. The sun was starting to sink and I had a goal to get through the South Fork - Pinhoti Loop (a cruel, unnecessary loop that pops out back onto FS 64) before dark. I wanted to be in familiar territory before I had to use my lights, so I put the hammer down as much as a I could. I bombed down the muddy South Fork Trail with no hesitation, then turned and pushed/rode my way up a muddy stretch of the Pinhoti, back to the gravel road. I rode along the familiar ridge until reaching the start of the climb up Potato Patch Mountain where I walked and finally brought out my lights. After another 2 hours of sweet singletrack, I finally rolled into Mulberry Gap at 10:30pm.
After a chocolate shake, I went to shower, and this is when all the pain caught up to me. My feet had been waterlogged all day, so it hurt to walk. My core, chest, and neck hurt from holding myself in riding position for 2 days. I had a bit of chafeage that I hadn't noticed before, and my sinuses and throat weren't any better. I didn't see how I could keep going in this condition. I slept on a cot in the barn, getting up twice for a painful walk to the bathhouse down the driveway.
Day Three
I awoke Monday morning with less pain but still exhausted. I hung out for awhile, drinking coffee, talking with other racers, and contemplating quitting. Reading a book in my hammock sounded much more enjoyable than more riding at the time. The problem with quitting is that I'd have to come back and race it again. And that sounded even worse. So after eating breakfast and charging up my lights, I had nothing better to do, so I got back on the bike at about 9:30am.
The trail leading away from Mulberry Gap is familiar enough that it went by quickly despite being a huge climb. After that it was back to unfamiliar sections of the Pinhoti which inlcuded some awesome downhill singletrack. The trail popped out near Ramhurst where I stopped at a gas station for a chicken sandwich and a Sprite. My throat was still bothering me, so I got some Halls and started eating them like candy.
A long flat road section led to Dalton and Bear Creek Bikes where I stopped to rest and escape the heat. It was mid-afternoon by this point and my allergies/sickness wasn't helping. The bike got a much needed tune-up, and I learned that I had a freehub bearing going out. I had noticed an occasional rattle previously, but it was louder and constant once everything was lubed up. The next section was fairly remote, so I stocked up on food and topped off my water. I wanted to make it at least partway through The Snake before crashing for the night.
I did make that goal, but the first part of The Snake kicked my ass. It's an extremely rocky and technical singletrack trail along a ridgeline just west of Dalton. Maneuvering through and powering over rocks on a 50+lb bike is not easy. I was starting to feel overheated when I hit the downhill to the trailhead midway through The Snake. The trailhead consisted of a gravel parking lot and a pit toilet next to a somewhat busy highway. I stopped here to eat dinner - a turkey sub and pretzels. The sun was setting, but I thought I'd lie down for a few minutes to let that food digest. The concrete next to the pit toilet was warm - I assumed from the sun shining on it earlier - and felt good now that I was cooled down.
I quickly fell asleep for a few minutes before getting up to pee. Suddenly I felt feverish - weak, shaky, chills, and just generally sick. I checked my phone, no service. I thought about the Spot Tracker and the button that sends the message, "I'm ok but quitting." For some reason I decided to give it more time. It wasn't even fully dark yet, but I wrapped up in my rainfly and went to sleep on the concrete by the pit toilet.
8.25.2016
TNGA: Part 1
I read an article recently saying that we (mountain bikers) use the word epic too often when describing rides, but there's no question that the Trans North Georgia qualifies in the most extreme definition of the word. It was brutal and beautiful, with emotional highs and lows, new states of consciousness, and mental struggles that match the physical.
The Day Before
Friday started with a good Mulberry Gap breakfast, followed by gathering up my gear, making a final decision on what to bring, and loading it onto the trailer to be shuttled to the start. As I was waiting for the other riders to show up and get their gear loaded, the anticipation was killing me. I was nervous, excited, and terrified all at the same time. I was ready to start riding, but there was still a full day of travelling, prepping, and camping at the yurts near the South Carolina border.
It was really interesting to meet other racers and discuss motives, goals, gear, training, and trouble spots on the route. I didn't fully realize it at the time, but this was a new class of cyclists that I had previously only read about. Some of them were ultra-endurance athletes that do these things all the time. Others were just people looking for an adventure. Unlike the short XC races I'm used to, I couldn't size up the competition by looking at how "fit" they were, or by how fast their bike looked, or even by how much gear they were carrying. I'm still not quite sure what makes a fast TNGA rider, but knowledge of the route and needing minimal sleep definitely help.
What they don't tell you is that the sleep deprivation starts the night before, because you'll probably be too excited to sleep. I slept about five hours, and spent a few more lying in bed thinking of what was to come.
Day One
Saturday started early. I got out of bed just after 5am. I had been awake for a while and breakfast was at 5:30. Despite drinking coffee, I was too tense to have a good bowel movement, which everyone knows is the crux of any bike race. This wasn't a good sign. We shuttled to the start, unloaded, and lined up on Russell Bridge over the Chattooga River. After a brief meeting, we turned on our Spot Trackers, and we were off.
We started off slow on gravel roads climbing into the mountains. I was eager to charge ahead but held back considering I'd be riding all day. I was also a little nervous about navigating, so I rode with other people for a while. The first singletrack we hit was Darnell Creek Horse Trail - a long-forgotten, overgrown, washed out excuse for a trail. I thought for sure this ride was going to turn into an episode of I Shouldn't be Alive. There's nothing quite like barrelling down a rocky, green tunnel on a loaded bike in BFE Georgia to make one think, "This is badass!". This was a feeling I would have frequently throughout the journey.
The singletrack turned to doubletrack which dumped out onto a road. After three hours we had reached Dillard, the first chance to stop at 25 miles. I bypassed this stop, but got separated from the others by a stoplight. I was on my own now. It was quiet and peaceful rolling through the backroads. I quickly became more familiar with reading the map on my phone and gained confidence in navigating.
The route then followed a nice big creek with inviting swimming holes - it was getting hot out by this point. Fortunately, it rained shortly after that. Not a lot, just enough to feel good. Initially I was concerned about keeping my feet dry, but the many creek crossings proved that this would be an impossible feat (pun intended).
I played leap frog with a few other riders, catching them on the climbs only to have them catch-up while I was figuring out where to go. I pedalled up several "gaps" (mountain passes) that all sort of run together at this point. Tray Gap was memorable though, as it is the highest point on the route, and I ran out of water on the way up. Fortunately it was mostly downhill after that to Woody's Bike Shop in Helen at mile 97. On the way down I got held up searching for the infamous Hickory Nut Trail. I had heard several times that it was tricky to find and still didn't realize what I was looking at when I came to it. Funny thing about Hickory Nut is that the bears like to toss rocks onto the trail when looking for grubs. These random rocks are difficult to see due to the tall grass covering the trail. It gets to be a bumpy ride.
About halfway down, I realized that one of my feed bags was empty - the one that held my ipod, beef jerky, and half a Clif Bar. Bummer. I had no idea where this stuff had fallen out, and going back to look for it meant the difference between getting off the mountain in the daylight, before the looming thunderstorm hit and being there in the rain and lightning after dark. I was also quite thirsty, so I pressed on, sans ipod. It was a sad moment.
I filled up a water bottle at a campground to hold me until I got to Woody's. It was getting dark and the rain was getting closer when I hit a paved downhill. I pedalled hard, tucked, and put my head down trying to gain speed and nearly blew right by the bike shop. It was a warm welcome with pizza, eggs, bacon, Coke, and tents to keep dry. This was the first major rest stop of the race, and I was exhausted after pedalling for 12 hours (which smashed my previous record of 7.5 hours!) I took the opportunity to talk with other racers and rest while I waited out the rain. I needed to press on to Vogal State Park to get to the 1/3 mark. When the rain slowed, I headed out into the night to put in another 20 miles.
Normally 20 miles is fairly easy, but I failed to realize that this extra distance included Hogpen Gap. It's a beast of a climb eventhough it's paved. I quickly ditched my rain jacket, preferring a slight drizzle over pouring sweat. Near the top of the climb, it wasn't so much raining as it was that I was riding through a cloud. I descended the slick roads with no sense of speed in the darkness. I turned onto Hatchet Creek Rd which seemed to go on forever. It was late and I badly wanted sleep. Eventually I made it to Vogal, at about 12:30, where I stopped at the first pavilion and proceeded to pass out on top of a picnic table, using my rain fly as a blanket, with another racer nearby.
The Day Before
Friday started with a good Mulberry Gap breakfast, followed by gathering up my gear, making a final decision on what to bring, and loading it onto the trailer to be shuttled to the start. As I was waiting for the other riders to show up and get their gear loaded, the anticipation was killing me. I was nervous, excited, and terrified all at the same time. I was ready to start riding, but there was still a full day of travelling, prepping, and camping at the yurts near the South Carolina border.
It was really interesting to meet other racers and discuss motives, goals, gear, training, and trouble spots on the route. I didn't fully realize it at the time, but this was a new class of cyclists that I had previously only read about. Some of them were ultra-endurance athletes that do these things all the time. Others were just people looking for an adventure. Unlike the short XC races I'm used to, I couldn't size up the competition by looking at how "fit" they were, or by how fast their bike looked, or even by how much gear they were carrying. I'm still not quite sure what makes a fast TNGA rider, but knowledge of the route and needing minimal sleep definitely help.
What they don't tell you is that the sleep deprivation starts the night before, because you'll probably be too excited to sleep. I slept about five hours, and spent a few more lying in bed thinking of what was to come.
Day One
Saturday started early. I got out of bed just after 5am. I had been awake for a while and breakfast was at 5:30. Despite drinking coffee, I was too tense to have a good bowel movement, which everyone knows is the crux of any bike race. This wasn't a good sign. We shuttled to the start, unloaded, and lined up on Russell Bridge over the Chattooga River. After a brief meeting, we turned on our Spot Trackers, and we were off.
We started off slow on gravel roads climbing into the mountains. I was eager to charge ahead but held back considering I'd be riding all day. I was also a little nervous about navigating, so I rode with other people for a while. The first singletrack we hit was Darnell Creek Horse Trail - a long-forgotten, overgrown, washed out excuse for a trail. I thought for sure this ride was going to turn into an episode of I Shouldn't be Alive. There's nothing quite like barrelling down a rocky, green tunnel on a loaded bike in BFE Georgia to make one think, "This is badass!". This was a feeling I would have frequently throughout the journey.
The singletrack turned to doubletrack which dumped out onto a road. After three hours we had reached Dillard, the first chance to stop at 25 miles. I bypassed this stop, but got separated from the others by a stoplight. I was on my own now. It was quiet and peaceful rolling through the backroads. I quickly became more familiar with reading the map on my phone and gained confidence in navigating.
The route then followed a nice big creek with inviting swimming holes - it was getting hot out by this point. Fortunately, it rained shortly after that. Not a lot, just enough to feel good. Initially I was concerned about keeping my feet dry, but the many creek crossings proved that this would be an impossible feat (pun intended).
I played leap frog with a few other riders, catching them on the climbs only to have them catch-up while I was figuring out where to go. I pedalled up several "gaps" (mountain passes) that all sort of run together at this point. Tray Gap was memorable though, as it is the highest point on the route, and I ran out of water on the way up. Fortunately it was mostly downhill after that to Woody's Bike Shop in Helen at mile 97. On the way down I got held up searching for the infamous Hickory Nut Trail. I had heard several times that it was tricky to find and still didn't realize what I was looking at when I came to it. Funny thing about Hickory Nut is that the bears like to toss rocks onto the trail when looking for grubs. These random rocks are difficult to see due to the tall grass covering the trail. It gets to be a bumpy ride.
About halfway down, I realized that one of my feed bags was empty - the one that held my ipod, beef jerky, and half a Clif Bar. Bummer. I had no idea where this stuff had fallen out, and going back to look for it meant the difference between getting off the mountain in the daylight, before the looming thunderstorm hit and being there in the rain and lightning after dark. I was also quite thirsty, so I pressed on, sans ipod. It was a sad moment.
I filled up a water bottle at a campground to hold me until I got to Woody's. It was getting dark and the rain was getting closer when I hit a paved downhill. I pedalled hard, tucked, and put my head down trying to gain speed and nearly blew right by the bike shop. It was a warm welcome with pizza, eggs, bacon, Coke, and tents to keep dry. This was the first major rest stop of the race, and I was exhausted after pedalling for 12 hours (which smashed my previous record of 7.5 hours!) I took the opportunity to talk with other racers and rest while I waited out the rain. I needed to press on to Vogal State Park to get to the 1/3 mark. When the rain slowed, I headed out into the night to put in another 20 miles.
Normally 20 miles is fairly easy, but I failed to realize that this extra distance included Hogpen Gap. It's a beast of a climb eventhough it's paved. I quickly ditched my rain jacket, preferring a slight drizzle over pouring sweat. Near the top of the climb, it wasn't so much raining as it was that I was riding through a cloud. I descended the slick roads with no sense of speed in the darkness. I turned onto Hatchet Creek Rd which seemed to go on forever. It was late and I badly wanted sleep. Eventually I made it to Vogal, at about 12:30, where I stopped at the first pavilion and proceeded to pass out on top of a picnic table, using my rain fly as a blanket, with another racer nearby.
8.16.2016
Ready, set, GO!!
Cue sheets printed, .gpx file loaded, bags packed. My homemade bikepacking bags have passed the trial run; now it's time to put them to the test. I've been gathering up all my gear and trimming it down to the bare minimum.
Gear List:
Eno rain fly
Khumbu rain jacket
extra socks, underwear, and gloves
sunscreen
anti-chafe cream
emergency blanket
waterproof matches
iodine water purification tablets
Platypus 3L hydration bladder
24oz water bottle
Niterider helmet light
Light-Motion 200 handlebar light
battery charger cables
external back-up battery
two tubes
pump and CO2
bike multitool
tire levers
one set of brake pads
two masterlinks
chain lube
zip ties
duct tape
Things I've cut from the list:
extra spokes
tire sealant
bug spray
Reasoning: In all my biking years, only once have I ever broken a spoke on the trail. At 135lbs it's not something I really worry about. I'll make sure to put fresh sealant in my tires before I leave. Also, there's bike shops in Helen and Dalton, and smaller repairs can be made at Mulberry Gap. I don't remember bugs being bad while working at MG, so I think I can survive without it. I may look for some bug repellent wipes though.
It sure seemed like a lot of gear in my head, but laid out, it's not much at all. I've got plenty of room left over in my bags for food which will mostly consist of trail mix, Clif bars, beef jerky, and some dried fruit to start. After studying the cue sheets and .gpx file, I picked out the resupply spots and created some rough goals for each day.
I'll carry enough food to get me through the first 100 miles or so, possibly picking up a few snacks at the Top of Georgia Hostel at the 54 mile mark. I'll carry on to Helen, at 97 miles, eat dinner, then press on to Wolfpen Gap at 116 miles, roughly 1/3 of the way through. I'll likely camp out there, then press on to Cherry Log, 165 miles, for lunch on Sunday. Next, it's on to Mulberry Gap, at 212 miles, for dinner and to recharge batteries. I'll likely carry on that evening to Ramhurst, 234 miles, to camp. I'll restock in Dalton, 250 miles, then race to the finish which is 327 miles according to the cue sheets and 313 according to the GPS.
115 miles per day seems like a reasonable, achievable goal. With some luck, I'll surpass that. If it turns out that I can't make that goal, it's likely that I won't finish. Stretching this out to four or five days would kind of suck. My line of thinking is that the longer I'm out there, the more difficult it's going to be. Plus, I don't want to miss too much school.
I was hoping to post a cool picture of my bike all loaded down, but it's been raining all day. Maybe next time.
Gear List:
Eno rain fly
Khumbu rain jacket
extra socks, underwear, and gloves
sunscreen
anti-chafe cream
emergency blanket
waterproof matches
iodine water purification tablets
Platypus 3L hydration bladder
24oz water bottle
Niterider helmet light
Light-Motion 200 handlebar light
battery charger cables
external back-up battery
two tubes
pump and CO2
bike multitool
tire levers
one set of brake pads
two masterlinks
chain lube
zip ties
duct tape
Things I've cut from the list:
extra spokes
tire sealant
bug spray
Reasoning: In all my biking years, only once have I ever broken a spoke on the trail. At 135lbs it's not something I really worry about. I'll make sure to put fresh sealant in my tires before I leave. Also, there's bike shops in Helen and Dalton, and smaller repairs can be made at Mulberry Gap. I don't remember bugs being bad while working at MG, so I think I can survive without it. I may look for some bug repellent wipes though.
It sure seemed like a lot of gear in my head, but laid out, it's not much at all. I've got plenty of room left over in my bags for food which will mostly consist of trail mix, Clif bars, beef jerky, and some dried fruit to start. After studying the cue sheets and .gpx file, I picked out the resupply spots and created some rough goals for each day.
I'll carry enough food to get me through the first 100 miles or so, possibly picking up a few snacks at the Top of Georgia Hostel at the 54 mile mark. I'll carry on to Helen, at 97 miles, eat dinner, then press on to Wolfpen Gap at 116 miles, roughly 1/3 of the way through. I'll likely camp out there, then press on to Cherry Log, 165 miles, for lunch on Sunday. Next, it's on to Mulberry Gap, at 212 miles, for dinner and to recharge batteries. I'll likely carry on that evening to Ramhurst, 234 miles, to camp. I'll restock in Dalton, 250 miles, then race to the finish which is 327 miles according to the cue sheets and 313 according to the GPS.
115 miles per day seems like a reasonable, achievable goal. With some luck, I'll surpass that. If it turns out that I can't make that goal, it's likely that I won't finish. Stretching this out to four or five days would kind of suck. My line of thinking is that the longer I'm out there, the more difficult it's going to be. Plus, I don't want to miss too much school.
I was hoping to post a cool picture of my bike all loaded down, but it's been raining all day. Maybe next time.
8.03.2016
Path to Agnosticism
I'm writing this to clear up any confusion about how I came to my current position and to hopefully encourage others to question why they believe what they do. I also encourage others to further research any concepts I mention here, as I don't have the space to go into every detail. I at least hope that others will be able to see things from my point of view regardless of whether or not you agree with it. But first, some history.
When I was about 15, I began to really question my Episcopalian beliefs. At first I was scared, thinking I'd be punished (perhaps for eternity) for even having doubts. I pushed the questions away, but they drifted back often, lingering longer each time. When no lightning bolts came, I decided it was ok to think about these things. Of course a few questions turned into a lot of questions. Such as:
"Why are we here?"
"Where did God come from?"
"If He already knows our fate, what's the point of us being on Earth?"
"If He wanted to forgive our sins, why was it necessary to sacrifice His son? He's all powerful; He could've just forgiven us."
There's plenty more, but you get the idea. And so, I thought, researched, thought some more, and never really came up with satisfying answers.
At 18 I went through with Confirmation largely because that's what was expected of me. At the time I still agreed with most of what the church said, though I still had lots of unanswered questions. Eventually, I decided to base my beliefs on my own experiences rather than what I was told to believe.
Problems with Religion
I researched the history of religion, and as a general trend, the earliest forms began with animism, then polytheism, then monotheism. Animism, it seems, was a way to explain natural events before we had the scientific method, tools, and time to study such events. Over time, however, science has provided logical, natural explanations, replacing the "God did it" answer. The recession of mythical explanations is referred to as the God of the Gaps and was an important realization for me. If one is using God to explain natural processes, history shows that this is a setup for failure.
I went through various phases of fringe religions like transcendentalism and pantheism in my attempts to reconcile scientific explanations with how God could be behind the inner workings of the Universe. I still find pantheism and deism plausible, but it only adds unnecessary complications.
I also came to understand that the concept of Hell is illogical. Assuming God is just, there is no single crime or series of crimes one can commit in a finite life on Earth to deserve an eternity of torment. So do we all go to Heaven? What about Hitler? If Hitler accepted Jesus a moment before he died would he get in? Some Christians say yes, others say no. What about an atheist who devotes his life to charitable causes? Again, a lot of people are split.
And then there's other religions. Thousands of them throughout history, some with highly contradictory views. They can't all be right. Suppose one in particular is correct. Is everyone else damned? I sure hope not. So, if there is a god, does he really care what we believe? It doesn't look like it. I don't think a supreme being would be so narcissistic. I think if God were as obvious as religious people claim, there would only be one religion, and it would be completely compatible with science. But then, it wouldn't require faith. So why is God hiding?
It would be far too easy to look at my life and say that "I've been blessed", as I often hear people say about their own lives. That seems, to me, incredibly short sighted. Why am I "blessed" while others suffer? What about those that don't have it so great? What about the innocent children all around the world - starved, raped, molested, abused, murdered? This is referred to as the Problem of Evil.
There are a lot of holes in all religious stories, which I won't go into here, but most people tend to ignore these or simply claim that we can't understand God's ways and cease to ask questions. When scrutinized with logic, however, these details fall apart. One can instead focus on the big picture, but to me, the big picture loses meaning without a solid foundation.
Science vs Faith
Science and organized religion employ two different methods of thinking about the world - one based on logic, the other on faith. Some people reconcile this with a form of cognitive dissonance, but objectively the two are incompatible. Science will never rule out the possibility of a god, but it's looking increasingly likely that the concept of a god isn't necessary to explain our existence. Of course, one can argue that God is outside of our reality; therefore, the rules of logic don't apply. But then, by definition, there is no evidence for anything outside of our reality, and so it's all left to mere speculation. And that brings us to the root of the issue.
Faith. Believing without seeing, or believing without evidence is, by definition, illogical. And there is no evidence. There are many reasons to believe in God, but scientific evidence and logic are not among them. And so I ask, why follow one particular religion? Because your parents and grandparents did? Because of your geographical location and time of your existence in history? I hope others have better answers than those, but that seems to be more than just a general trend. In fact it's generally referred to as indoctrination. (No offense or accusation implied.)
A lack of belief doesn't really need a label; nevertheless, there are several: agnostic, atheist, secular humanist, non-believer, etc. I tend to not use atheist as it still has a negative connotation, but really, I see little difference in these definitions. If you must pick one, I prefer secular humanist, as it's probably the most accurate. I'd like to make it clear that I don't reject the concept of a deity, I just see no evidence or reason to believe in one. If a time comes when such evidence (scientific or otherwise) presents itself, I'll gladly change my views.
Concerns about Non-believers
Morality. It's a common misconception that morality stems from religion. Most people cherry-pick morals from religious texts and ignore the ones they don't like. One doesn't need a religious book to tell them right from wrong. Nor do they need the threat of Hell to stop them from committing crimes. Altruism is evolutionary and found in many species. The Golden Rule is also universal, not tied to any one religion. There's also people who commit crimes despite being religious and sometimes even in the name of religion. There's really no significant correlation between morality and religion.
Death. This is a tough one and is probably what keeps a lot of people religious. But neuroscientists are diligently working on the mystery of consciousness, and it's almost certainly the product of a functioning brain. There was a time before I was born that I didn't exist, and it's a reasonable assumption that after I die I'll cease to exist. Accepting this finality of death was admittedly difficult. Some may find this depressing, but on the other hand, I find it empowering. If this life is all I've got, I'll do my best to live it the best I can and help others to do the same. Realizing my full control of my life's trajectory is quite liberating. Don't bide your time waiting for things to get better in an afterlife, go out and do something about it!
Say that there is an afterlife. Would God really give us the ability to think logically, scientifically, and then punish us for doing so? I doubt it. Like I said, the threat of Hell is illogical and really falls short once you step outside the belief system.
One doesn't need science to see the logical fallacies of organized religion, but it does help. The attraction to science is that it doesn't claim to have all the answers, but scientists devote their lives to the search. It's turning out that the true nature of reality is far more fascinating than any creationism story. Maybe it'll turn out that science can't answer all the questions, but it's much better to try and fail than not try at all.
That's quite a heavy post, so here's something to lighten the mood.
An Engineer Accidentally goes to Hell instead of Heaven.
An Engineer dies and goes to hell. He's hot and miserable, so he decides to take action. The A/C has been busted for a long time, so he fixes it. Things cool down quickly.
The moving walkway motor jammed, so he unjams it. People can get from place to place more easily.
The TV was grainy and unclear, so he fixes the connection to the Satellite dish and now they get hundreds of high def channels.
One day, God decides to look down on Hell to see how his grand design is working out and notices that everyone is happy and enjoying umbrella drinks. He asks the Devil what's going on?
The Devil replies, "Things are great down here since you sent us that engineer."
"What?? An engineer? I didn't send you one of those, that must have been a mistake. Send him back up right this minute."
The Devil responds, "No way! We are going to keep our engineer. We like this guy."
God demands, "If you don't send him to me immediately, I'll sue!"
The Devil laughs. "Where are YOU going to get a lawyer?"
When I was about 15, I began to really question my Episcopalian beliefs. At first I was scared, thinking I'd be punished (perhaps for eternity) for even having doubts. I pushed the questions away, but they drifted back often, lingering longer each time. When no lightning bolts came, I decided it was ok to think about these things. Of course a few questions turned into a lot of questions. Such as:
"Why are we here?"
"Where did God come from?"
"If He already knows our fate, what's the point of us being on Earth?"
"If He wanted to forgive our sins, why was it necessary to sacrifice His son? He's all powerful; He could've just forgiven us."
There's plenty more, but you get the idea. And so, I thought, researched, thought some more, and never really came up with satisfying answers.
At 18 I went through with Confirmation largely because that's what was expected of me. At the time I still agreed with most of what the church said, though I still had lots of unanswered questions. Eventually, I decided to base my beliefs on my own experiences rather than what I was told to believe.
Problems with Religion
I researched the history of religion, and as a general trend, the earliest forms began with animism, then polytheism, then monotheism. Animism, it seems, was a way to explain natural events before we had the scientific method, tools, and time to study such events. Over time, however, science has provided logical, natural explanations, replacing the "God did it" answer. The recession of mythical explanations is referred to as the God of the Gaps and was an important realization for me. If one is using God to explain natural processes, history shows that this is a setup for failure.
I went through various phases of fringe religions like transcendentalism and pantheism in my attempts to reconcile scientific explanations with how God could be behind the inner workings of the Universe. I still find pantheism and deism plausible, but it only adds unnecessary complications.
I also came to understand that the concept of Hell is illogical. Assuming God is just, there is no single crime or series of crimes one can commit in a finite life on Earth to deserve an eternity of torment. So do we all go to Heaven? What about Hitler? If Hitler accepted Jesus a moment before he died would he get in? Some Christians say yes, others say no. What about an atheist who devotes his life to charitable causes? Again, a lot of people are split.
And then there's other religions. Thousands of them throughout history, some with highly contradictory views. They can't all be right. Suppose one in particular is correct. Is everyone else damned? I sure hope not. So, if there is a god, does he really care what we believe? It doesn't look like it. I don't think a supreme being would be so narcissistic. I think if God were as obvious as religious people claim, there would only be one religion, and it would be completely compatible with science. But then, it wouldn't require faith. So why is God hiding?
It would be far too easy to look at my life and say that "I've been blessed", as I often hear people say about their own lives. That seems, to me, incredibly short sighted. Why am I "blessed" while others suffer? What about those that don't have it so great? What about the innocent children all around the world - starved, raped, molested, abused, murdered? This is referred to as the Problem of Evil.
There are a lot of holes in all religious stories, which I won't go into here, but most people tend to ignore these or simply claim that we can't understand God's ways and cease to ask questions. When scrutinized with logic, however, these details fall apart. One can instead focus on the big picture, but to me, the big picture loses meaning without a solid foundation.
Science vs Faith
Science and organized religion employ two different methods of thinking about the world - one based on logic, the other on faith. Some people reconcile this with a form of cognitive dissonance, but objectively the two are incompatible. Science will never rule out the possibility of a god, but it's looking increasingly likely that the concept of a god isn't necessary to explain our existence. Of course, one can argue that God is outside of our reality; therefore, the rules of logic don't apply. But then, by definition, there is no evidence for anything outside of our reality, and so it's all left to mere speculation. And that brings us to the root of the issue.
Faith. Believing without seeing, or believing without evidence is, by definition, illogical. And there is no evidence. There are many reasons to believe in God, but scientific evidence and logic are not among them. And so I ask, why follow one particular religion? Because your parents and grandparents did? Because of your geographical location and time of your existence in history? I hope others have better answers than those, but that seems to be more than just a general trend. In fact it's generally referred to as indoctrination. (No offense or accusation implied.)
A lack of belief doesn't really need a label; nevertheless, there are several: agnostic, atheist, secular humanist, non-believer, etc. I tend to not use atheist as it still has a negative connotation, but really, I see little difference in these definitions. If you must pick one, I prefer secular humanist, as it's probably the most accurate. I'd like to make it clear that I don't reject the concept of a deity, I just see no evidence or reason to believe in one. If a time comes when such evidence (scientific or otherwise) presents itself, I'll gladly change my views.
Concerns about Non-believers
Morality. It's a common misconception that morality stems from religion. Most people cherry-pick morals from religious texts and ignore the ones they don't like. One doesn't need a religious book to tell them right from wrong. Nor do they need the threat of Hell to stop them from committing crimes. Altruism is evolutionary and found in many species. The Golden Rule is also universal, not tied to any one religion. There's also people who commit crimes despite being religious and sometimes even in the name of religion. There's really no significant correlation between morality and religion.
Death. This is a tough one and is probably what keeps a lot of people religious. But neuroscientists are diligently working on the mystery of consciousness, and it's almost certainly the product of a functioning brain. There was a time before I was born that I didn't exist, and it's a reasonable assumption that after I die I'll cease to exist. Accepting this finality of death was admittedly difficult. Some may find this depressing, but on the other hand, I find it empowering. If this life is all I've got, I'll do my best to live it the best I can and help others to do the same. Realizing my full control of my life's trajectory is quite liberating. Don't bide your time waiting for things to get better in an afterlife, go out and do something about it!
Say that there is an afterlife. Would God really give us the ability to think logically, scientifically, and then punish us for doing so? I doubt it. Like I said, the threat of Hell is illogical and really falls short once you step outside the belief system.
One doesn't need science to see the logical fallacies of organized religion, but it does help. The attraction to science is that it doesn't claim to have all the answers, but scientists devote their lives to the search. It's turning out that the true nature of reality is far more fascinating than any creationism story. Maybe it'll turn out that science can't answer all the questions, but it's much better to try and fail than not try at all.
That's quite a heavy post, so here's something to lighten the mood.
An Engineer Accidentally goes to Hell instead of Heaven.
An Engineer dies and goes to hell. He's hot and miserable, so he decides to take action. The A/C has been busted for a long time, so he fixes it. Things cool down quickly.
The moving walkway motor jammed, so he unjams it. People can get from place to place more easily.
The TV was grainy and unclear, so he fixes the connection to the Satellite dish and now they get hundreds of high def channels.
One day, God decides to look down on Hell to see how his grand design is working out and notices that everyone is happy and enjoying umbrella drinks. He asks the Devil what's going on?
The Devil replies, "Things are great down here since you sent us that engineer."
"What?? An engineer? I didn't send you one of those, that must have been a mistake. Send him back up right this minute."
The Devil responds, "No way! We are going to keep our engineer. We like this guy."
God demands, "If you don't send him to me immediately, I'll sue!"
The Devil laughs. "Where are YOU going to get a lawyer?"
http://www.sunnyskyz.com/funny-jokes/17/An-Engineer-accidentally-goes-to-Hell-instead-of-Heaven#aq3FEaOcmc6D39sm.99
7.22.2016
One Race to Rule Them All: TNGA
The Trans North Georgia is the race of all races. I go back and forth between underestimating it and overestimating it, but the truth is I don't know what to expect. All I know is that it will be an extremely intense multi-day adventure. But that leaves a lot of questions concerning how to prepare.
The old theory of endurance training centers on endurance riding, but a huge volume of miles doesn't really do all that much for fitness past a certain point. Miles do not equal speed. Riding regularly does more for endurance, and speed comes from a combination of strength and lactate threshold. The latter is a very interesting phenomenon. It is the fine line between aerobic and anaerobic, or sustainable effort and unsustainable effort. Essentially it's a personal speed limit.
Over the years, as I've naturally progressed through bike racing, I've become much more in-tune with my body. It's easy to find and ride at lactate threshold in an effort to raise that bar. It also means that when I eat crap, I ride like crap. Where I used to be able to eat fastfood with no noticeable consequences, now it's just a greasy gut bomb. I also avoid processed and simple sugars, especially before a ride, as they produce an insulin spike that leaves me shaky and weak feeling only a few miles in. Even simpler carbs can have this effect, like potatoes, white bread/flour, and rice. The king of carbs turns out to be oats, which led me to develop the Power Waffle: an oatmeal, whole wheat, chocolate chip waffle. No syrup required. With three levels of carb complexity, one of those will keep me fueled up for hours.
The Power Waffle is great for training days, but for the most part I maintain a largely bean-based diet. Partly because beans are cheap and partly because they're packed with complex carbs and protein. They're also one of the most satiating foods, in my opinion. I've also been increasing my leafy vegetable intake and subsequently cutting back on rice, pasta, and meat.
My other preparation efforts include testing my comfort on the bike - saddle, shoes, clothing, etc. I think I'll end up wearing baggy shorts and a long sleeve shirt for sun protection rather than the typical spandex. This means forgoing a chamois, which is probably unthinkable to some, but it's really not needed with a leather saddle. I've also practiced eating while riding. Just the other day, I was eating a cold-cut sandwich while riding to class and basically wound up with a grilled cheese by the time I was done. Too hot out!
One of the biggest challenges of the TNGA may turn out to be navigation. Looking at the cue sheets, it seems there's a turn or intersection every couple of miles. A good GPS is considered a necessity for riding this route, but I was hesitant to spend $200+ for something I may never use again. I considered looking for one to borrow when I realized I already had one: the almighty smartphone. With a large screen and excellent battery life, it can't be beat. The trick was finding the right app. After experimenting with various free apps, I decided to pony up the $20 for the GAIA app. I must say it's quite impressive: simple, easy to use, and unlimited map downloads for offline use.
As far as sleeping goes, I've basically just decided to wing it. I'll ride until I get tired, pull over, and sleep. How long I sleep really depends on how far I make it the first day. If I can make it halfway on the first day, I can get by with only a few hours. If it looks like I'll be spending two nights out there, I better get some good rest. Sleep deprivation effects really come into play on the third day.
So, while I don't really know what to expect, my goal is to be prepared for anything. I'm pretty excited about being back in the North Georgia mountains.
The old theory of endurance training centers on endurance riding, but a huge volume of miles doesn't really do all that much for fitness past a certain point. Miles do not equal speed. Riding regularly does more for endurance, and speed comes from a combination of strength and lactate threshold. The latter is a very interesting phenomenon. It is the fine line between aerobic and anaerobic, or sustainable effort and unsustainable effort. Essentially it's a personal speed limit.
Over the years, as I've naturally progressed through bike racing, I've become much more in-tune with my body. It's easy to find and ride at lactate threshold in an effort to raise that bar. It also means that when I eat crap, I ride like crap. Where I used to be able to eat fastfood with no noticeable consequences, now it's just a greasy gut bomb. I also avoid processed and simple sugars, especially before a ride, as they produce an insulin spike that leaves me shaky and weak feeling only a few miles in. Even simpler carbs can have this effect, like potatoes, white bread/flour, and rice. The king of carbs turns out to be oats, which led me to develop the Power Waffle: an oatmeal, whole wheat, chocolate chip waffle. No syrup required. With three levels of carb complexity, one of those will keep me fueled up for hours.
The Power Waffle is great for training days, but for the most part I maintain a largely bean-based diet. Partly because beans are cheap and partly because they're packed with complex carbs and protein. They're also one of the most satiating foods, in my opinion. I've also been increasing my leafy vegetable intake and subsequently cutting back on rice, pasta, and meat.
My other preparation efforts include testing my comfort on the bike - saddle, shoes, clothing, etc. I think I'll end up wearing baggy shorts and a long sleeve shirt for sun protection rather than the typical spandex. This means forgoing a chamois, which is probably unthinkable to some, but it's really not needed with a leather saddle. I've also practiced eating while riding. Just the other day, I was eating a cold-cut sandwich while riding to class and basically wound up with a grilled cheese by the time I was done. Too hot out!
One of the biggest challenges of the TNGA may turn out to be navigation. Looking at the cue sheets, it seems there's a turn or intersection every couple of miles. A good GPS is considered a necessity for riding this route, but I was hesitant to spend $200+ for something I may never use again. I considered looking for one to borrow when I realized I already had one: the almighty smartphone. With a large screen and excellent battery life, it can't be beat. The trick was finding the right app. After experimenting with various free apps, I decided to pony up the $20 for the GAIA app. I must say it's quite impressive: simple, easy to use, and unlimited map downloads for offline use.
As far as sleeping goes, I've basically just decided to wing it. I'll ride until I get tired, pull over, and sleep. How long I sleep really depends on how far I make it the first day. If I can make it halfway on the first day, I can get by with only a few hours. If it looks like I'll be spending two nights out there, I better get some good rest. Sleep deprivation effects really come into play on the third day.
So, while I don't really know what to expect, my goal is to be prepared for anything. I'm pretty excited about being back in the North Georgia mountains.
5.15.2016
Dingle-speed (Double-singlespeed)
I've been riding this setup for a few weeks now, and so far, it's solved my commuter bike issue. It's not quite as fast as commuting on my road bike, but it's fast enough. Ironically, the big "off-road" tires are much more suitable to Oxford's bike lanes. It's also convenient to be able to hop curbs and go off the pavement easily. The upright position is much more comfortable, but the best part might be the rack. I've come up with an easy-on/off attachment for Lucy's basket, and I'm working on a backpack/pannier system to keep my back from getting so sweaty this summer.
If I can come up with some quick release fenders that work decently well, I may change my opinion about the ideal number of bikes. As a bonus of commuting on a mountain bike, it's quite convenient to ride the trails after class, since campus is right between my house and the trailhead.
4.19.2016
Road Use and Bike Lanes
Preface: I think I've mentioned this before, but I have no sympathy for drivers. From the environmental impacts and congestion issues to the staggering number of vehicle-related deaths and insane inefficiency of using a 3500lb vehicle to move a 185lb person (average), car culture sucks.
While waiting for a physics lecture to begin today, a guy next to me starts talking to his friend about how absurd it was that he had just received a ticket for careless driving. He didn't mention what infraction he committed, but considering the number of stupid things drivers do that don't warrant tickets, I can only assume he deserved it. I really would've liked to speak up and say that he should probably be more careful when operating heavy machinery. I didn't think it would do any good, however, so I let it go.
This may have been prompted by another impatient driver, earlier this morning, cutting me off to get to a parking space 1.5 seconds faster. Seriously. I can't wait for software-driven cars to take over. I read an interesting prediction on Quora.com which postulated that when technology advances so that software can drive a car better than a human, it will become much more difficult to get and keep a driver's license. "Accidents" will become unacceptable, and we'll all be safer, cyclists included. Given the exponential nature of technological advancement, I think this could happen in as little as 10 years; 20 tops.
On to my main point: the claim that cyclists should be required to have insurance and register our bikes to justify our road access. Clearly this claim has no forethought.
First off, registration, gas taxes, and other road use fees only account for 32% of of road construction/maintenance spending. The rest comes from general revenue. So, basically cyclists are already paying for more than their share of the road.
Now lets change this to how it should be, where road funding comes entirely from it's users. To do this fairly, it should be based on vehicle weight and miles driven to account for "wear and tear" done by different vehicles. So, 18 wheelers and dump trucks bear the highest cost with bikes at the bottom. Without crunching the numbers, I'm guessing bike registration would be a few cents per year. Think, if everyone quit driving today and only rode bikes, our roads could stay in their current conditions for centuries, with the exception of damage from natural disasters.
The easiest way to account for mileage differences between users is simply to tax the crap out of gasoline. Again, a 20lb bike doesn't contribute significantly to the "wear and tear" of roads, so it's irrelevant that it doesn't use gas. While we're at it, we could throw in an environmental tax for the air pollution.
The real joke here is insurance. How much damage can a cyclist really be liable for? If I hit a stop sign, the stop sign will win. If I rear end a car, the bumper is going to win. Maybe there will be a small tire mark, but that small expense certainly won't justify needing insurance. Liability insurance for a 20lb bike is just absurd.
This does raise the question, though - how should bike lane maintenance be funded? In this case, maintenance means sweeping a few times a year. Having gotten three flats, recently, from debris in the bike lane, I can say that bike lanes are fairly pointless if they're not swept once in a while. Although I would gladly register my bikes if it meant funding for a street sweeper program, most of this debris comes from construction and work trucks hauling gravel, tree limbs, and trash as well as drivers throwing glass bottles and other trash out the window. And then there's road kill.
So, yes, cities should charge people for littering and destruction. They should also promote cycling as transportation since it cuts down on pollution and ultimately leads to a healthier, more productive society. Bike lane maintenance could easily "pay for itself".
TL;DR: the bike lanes in Oxford need sweeping. The trashiest road users should probably pay for it, or maybe I'll just get out there with my broom.
While waiting for a physics lecture to begin today, a guy next to me starts talking to his friend about how absurd it was that he had just received a ticket for careless driving. He didn't mention what infraction he committed, but considering the number of stupid things drivers do that don't warrant tickets, I can only assume he deserved it. I really would've liked to speak up and say that he should probably be more careful when operating heavy machinery. I didn't think it would do any good, however, so I let it go.
This may have been prompted by another impatient driver, earlier this morning, cutting me off to get to a parking space 1.5 seconds faster. Seriously. I can't wait for software-driven cars to take over. I read an interesting prediction on Quora.com which postulated that when technology advances so that software can drive a car better than a human, it will become much more difficult to get and keep a driver's license. "Accidents" will become unacceptable, and we'll all be safer, cyclists included. Given the exponential nature of technological advancement, I think this could happen in as little as 10 years; 20 tops.
On to my main point: the claim that cyclists should be required to have insurance and register our bikes to justify our road access. Clearly this claim has no forethought.
First off, registration, gas taxes, and other road use fees only account for 32% of of road construction/maintenance spending. The rest comes from general revenue. So, basically cyclists are already paying for more than their share of the road.
Now lets change this to how it should be, where road funding comes entirely from it's users. To do this fairly, it should be based on vehicle weight and miles driven to account for "wear and tear" done by different vehicles. So, 18 wheelers and dump trucks bear the highest cost with bikes at the bottom. Without crunching the numbers, I'm guessing bike registration would be a few cents per year. Think, if everyone quit driving today and only rode bikes, our roads could stay in their current conditions for centuries, with the exception of damage from natural disasters.
The easiest way to account for mileage differences between users is simply to tax the crap out of gasoline. Again, a 20lb bike doesn't contribute significantly to the "wear and tear" of roads, so it's irrelevant that it doesn't use gas. While we're at it, we could throw in an environmental tax for the air pollution.
The real joke here is insurance. How much damage can a cyclist really be liable for? If I hit a stop sign, the stop sign will win. If I rear end a car, the bumper is going to win. Maybe there will be a small tire mark, but that small expense certainly won't justify needing insurance. Liability insurance for a 20lb bike is just absurd.
This does raise the question, though - how should bike lane maintenance be funded? In this case, maintenance means sweeping a few times a year. Having gotten three flats, recently, from debris in the bike lane, I can say that bike lanes are fairly pointless if they're not swept once in a while. Although I would gladly register my bikes if it meant funding for a street sweeper program, most of this debris comes from construction and work trucks hauling gravel, tree limbs, and trash as well as drivers throwing glass bottles and other trash out the window. And then there's road kill.
So, yes, cities should charge people for littering and destruction. They should also promote cycling as transportation since it cuts down on pollution and ultimately leads to a healthier, more productive society. Bike lane maintenance could easily "pay for itself".
TL;DR: the bike lanes in Oxford need sweeping. The trashiest road users should probably pay for it, or maybe I'll just get out there with my broom.
4.03.2016
Suspension Tuning
I'm putting these thoughts into words - before I forget them again - mostly for my own use in the future, but hopefully others will find this guide useful too.
First off, Manitou Suspension rocks. Their forks and shocks are some of the must tune-able on the market with simple but effective shim stacks to control brake dive and pedal bob. Also the ride quality to price ratio is unbeatable. This tune-ability means they can be finicky to set up, but spending the time to do so is well worth it. I've previously owned the Tower Pro fork and currently ride the Marvel fork and Radium rear shock.
So that concludes Suspension Theory 101. I'll try to keep this post updated if/when my ideas change or expand.
First off, Manitou Suspension rocks. Their forks and shocks are some of the must tune-able on the market with simple but effective shim stacks to control brake dive and pedal bob. Also the ride quality to price ratio is unbeatable. This tune-ability means they can be finicky to set up, but spending the time to do so is well worth it. I've previously owned the Tower Pro fork and currently ride the Marvel fork and Radium rear shock.
- The Spring.
Start with air spring pressure. Set the sag at 20% front, 30% rear. You'll probably change this later, but it's a good starting point. A proper suspension setup should bottom out once every ride or two; otherwise, you're not using all of the available travel and carrying around extra weight for nothing. Higher air pressure, while it does work, is the wrong way to achieve reduced pedal bob. We'll get to that in a minute.
If you have a fork like the Tower Pro with coil assist, things get a little trickier. If you can barely achieve the desired sag with low air pressure and it bounces around like a pogo stick when you stand and pedal, try installing a lighter coil. If you have too much sag, even with high pressure, try a heavier coil. - Rebound.
There are a few ways to find the ideal rebound setting. One way is to start with fast rebound and work your way down until the bike feels stable. The problem with this, is that you may think the bike rides well, but you could be sacrificing traction without knowing it. You can also start in the middle, which is probably close to the ideal position, but this can leave you wondering which way to adjust it to get it just right. My suggestion is start slow and work you're way up. Slower rebound will result in better traction but run it too slow and the shock will pack down and ride harshly. Slower rebound will also help reduce inefficiency from pedal bob.
*edit: Racing last weekend, I ran the compression damping wide open and slowed down the rebound for a fast, flat trail with small, infrequent bumps. The result was good compliance and more traction. - Compression Damping.
Compression speed should be proportional to rebound speed. Fast compression and slow rebound will make the fork pack down and handling will suffer. Similarly, slow compression and fast rebound produces a strange ride too. Best bet is to match the rebound speed. You'll know you have it right when pedal bob and brake dive are minimized. Manitou makes this nice and easy with the ABS+ knob. - Lockouts.
Say 'no' to lockouts! I hear a lot of people say they want/like lockouts so that their bike will "climb like a hardtail/rigid". This is wrong. A properly tuned full suspension bike, with much better traction, will out-climb a hardtail. The exception to this is if you're sprinting up a paved hill, but we're talking about dirt in this post. - Tire Pressure.
I might as well throw this in here too. With a full suspension bike, you might be able to get away with a little bit lower tire pressure. The biggest issue is cornering. You don't wont the tire rolling sideways; I find this is the limiting factor with low pressures. A little bit higher pressures can result in faster rolling with all the traction of properly tuned suspension. - Racing.
In my opinion, a good trail day setup is exactly the same as race day setup. Partly because this is what you're used to, and partly because it should already be optimized for traction, efficiency, handling, and comfort. At the most you might want to turn up the compression damping, especially if it's a short sprint. Even then, I've found the reduced traction and bump absorption can throw off your handling expectations.
Of course you may want to tweak the settings for different types of trails. Fast trails with small bumps require different settings than slower trails with bigger hits or fast trails with big hits. If you have the suspension set up properly for your home trails, it shouldn't be difficult to adjust it to another trail after a practice lap or two.
Most rear shocks have multiple compression rates like forks. The Radium has firm and soft settings, no lockout. I always run it on the soft setting, but I'll reserve the firm setting for race courses with short steep climbs for a little extra power transfer out of the saddle.
So that concludes Suspension Theory 101. I'll try to keep this post updated if/when my ideas change or expand.
3.27.2016
It's almost race season!
The latest addition to the fleet.
After months of ordering parts, the new rig is finally rolling, with only two weeks until the first race of the season. I spent this weekend roughly tuning the suspension, trying different tire pressures and putting the bike through it's paces. And it's fast. It's ridiculously fast. But in a more controlled manor. In three days of riding it, I've gotten 6 King of the Mountain's and 5 other personal records on Strava, despite crashing once, sliding out in some corners, and awkwardly coming off of a jump. I don't really know how to ride this thing yet. Previously, I was lucky to crack the top ten on Strava segments.
Leading up to this, I've been training on my single speed and really pushing the limits of what that bike is capable of: cornering hard enough to make it flex like a wet noodle, rolling/burping tires, two-wheeled drifting, etc. One could argue that my technique can't keep up with how fast I want to ride, but after almost four years on that bike, I'm going to say it's the bike.
Before building my new bike, I had a total of maybe five hours of ride time with rear suspension, so I wasn't sure just how much of a difference it would make. I assumed it would be faster downhill, but it's faster in the corners and even faster uphill. I can apply full power to the pedals without worrying about the rear wheel spinning out, losing traction, or bouncing off course. Today I was actually 14% faster on an uphill sprint compared to my old personal record; consequently claiming that KOM from a semi-professional roadie who was on a cross bike at the time.
So, now that I have almost four functional bikes, I've come to the conclusion that the ideal number of bikes is five - coincidentally one more than I currently own (n+1). There's the racing mountain bike, the club-ride/racing road bike, a back-up mountain bike/dog-hauler (rigid, single speed), a commuter (something lightweight, minimal maintenance, cheap - fixed gear), and a wet-weather commuter/training bike/grocery getter with rack and fenders. Maintenance on more than two bikes can start to be a hassle, so the commuters/back-ups need to be simple, reliable, and somewhat cheap. Let the race bikes be the high maintenance, performance machines. Of course, depending on location and interests, you could add in fat bikes, bmx, touring, cargo, downhill, enduro, vintage, track, tandem, recumbent, trials,....
After months of ordering parts, the new rig is finally rolling, with only two weeks until the first race of the season. I spent this weekend roughly tuning the suspension, trying different tire pressures and putting the bike through it's paces. And it's fast. It's ridiculously fast. But in a more controlled manor. In three days of riding it, I've gotten 6 King of the Mountain's and 5 other personal records on Strava, despite crashing once, sliding out in some corners, and awkwardly coming off of a jump. I don't really know how to ride this thing yet. Previously, I was lucky to crack the top ten on Strava segments.
Leading up to this, I've been training on my single speed and really pushing the limits of what that bike is capable of: cornering hard enough to make it flex like a wet noodle, rolling/burping tires, two-wheeled drifting, etc. One could argue that my technique can't keep up with how fast I want to ride, but after almost four years on that bike, I'm going to say it's the bike.
Before building my new bike, I had a total of maybe five hours of ride time with rear suspension, so I wasn't sure just how much of a difference it would make. I assumed it would be faster downhill, but it's faster in the corners and even faster uphill. I can apply full power to the pedals without worrying about the rear wheel spinning out, losing traction, or bouncing off course. Today I was actually 14% faster on an uphill sprint compared to my old personal record; consequently claiming that KOM from a semi-professional roadie who was on a cross bike at the time.
So, now that I have almost four functional bikes, I've come to the conclusion that the ideal number of bikes is five - coincidentally one more than I currently own (n+1). There's the racing mountain bike, the club-ride/racing road bike, a back-up mountain bike/dog-hauler (rigid, single speed), a commuter (something lightweight, minimal maintenance, cheap - fixed gear), and a wet-weather commuter/training bike/grocery getter with rack and fenders. Maintenance on more than two bikes can start to be a hassle, so the commuters/back-ups need to be simple, reliable, and somewhat cheap. Let the race bikes be the high maintenance, performance machines. Of course, depending on location and interests, you could add in fat bikes, bmx, touring, cargo, downhill, enduro, vintage, track, tandem, recumbent, trials,....
3.06.2016
Rickshaw Part 2
In the rickshaw business, we often use fishing analogies to describe our work. You can troll, or you can cast in one spot and wait. When I first started, I wasn't given much direction. I was set free to work how and where I wished. At first I took note of other drivers to learn their methods. For the most part their techniques were random, and a lot was left to chance, like a fisherman drifting down river, casting at whatever looked good. Being the primary driver this season, I've decided to take a more systematic approach.
For instance, trolling is a great way to get exposure and attract customers, but it's very inefficient and should be reserved for certain situations. Like when there's a lot of activity, but all the other cabs are parked. With a high supply of taxis, I need to put in extra effort to get customers. The opposite of this is football game days when there are no other taxis in sight and customers are competing with each other to get a ride.
I much prefer the sit and wait method to conserve my energy. But, there are a lot of factors to consider when choosing a location. For the beginning of a smaller sporting event (like baseball), you can't be too close, because a ride isn't worth the cost. And you can't be too far; you'll get too few customers. So, I'm working on identifying the converging points for foot traffic, while avoiding parking at the bottom of a hill.
Pricing is another issue. In general we charge $5 per person, but for short trips, I usually leave it up to the customer. Most people tip well, and some pay two or three times what I tell them. Still, a few think $5 is too much, and in a way, I agree. It's strange asking people to pay for something that I would never pay for myself. But then, I'm almost always on my bike.
The other issue I have is that we really don't drive outside of walking distance, so I often feel like I'm depriving people of (much needed) exercise and capitalizing on others' laziness. I suppose plenty of other industries do that too and usually charge more. Not that it makes it right, but it could be worse.
Recently, while out working one evening, I got an unsolicited job offer from a "real" taxi service with the promise of making more money. It was tempting from the thought of being in a warm, enclosed vehicle, and of course more money is usually a good thing too. But, I decided not to take it. Working for that company would mean taking orders from a dispatch system and/or taking calls along with stricter, longer hours and the stress of driving a monstrous vehicle in crowded areas and sometimes grid-locked traffic. No thanks. Sadly, several coworkers have succumbed to the allure of bigger profits.
The freedom of the rickshaw isn't something I'll readily give up. It's a low stress job with semi-flexible hours, and it's just generally enjoyable. Also the customers often think it's fun, whereas an SUV/van taxi is just an expensive form of transportation. Another factor in turning down the "real" taxi job was that earlier that same day, I accepted an offer to take over the maintenance of the rickshaws starting in the fall, along with some other supervisory duties.
For instance, trolling is a great way to get exposure and attract customers, but it's very inefficient and should be reserved for certain situations. Like when there's a lot of activity, but all the other cabs are parked. With a high supply of taxis, I need to put in extra effort to get customers. The opposite of this is football game days when there are no other taxis in sight and customers are competing with each other to get a ride.
I much prefer the sit and wait method to conserve my energy. But, there are a lot of factors to consider when choosing a location. For the beginning of a smaller sporting event (like baseball), you can't be too close, because a ride isn't worth the cost. And you can't be too far; you'll get too few customers. So, I'm working on identifying the converging points for foot traffic, while avoiding parking at the bottom of a hill.
Pricing is another issue. In general we charge $5 per person, but for short trips, I usually leave it up to the customer. Most people tip well, and some pay two or three times what I tell them. Still, a few think $5 is too much, and in a way, I agree. It's strange asking people to pay for something that I would never pay for myself. But then, I'm almost always on my bike.
The other issue I have is that we really don't drive outside of walking distance, so I often feel like I'm depriving people of (much needed) exercise and capitalizing on others' laziness. I suppose plenty of other industries do that too and usually charge more. Not that it makes it right, but it could be worse.
Recently, while out working one evening, I got an unsolicited job offer from a "real" taxi service with the promise of making more money. It was tempting from the thought of being in a warm, enclosed vehicle, and of course more money is usually a good thing too. But, I decided not to take it. Working for that company would mean taking orders from a dispatch system and/or taking calls along with stricter, longer hours and the stress of driving a monstrous vehicle in crowded areas and sometimes grid-locked traffic. No thanks. Sadly, several coworkers have succumbed to the allure of bigger profits.
The freedom of the rickshaw isn't something I'll readily give up. It's a low stress job with semi-flexible hours, and it's just generally enjoyable. Also the customers often think it's fun, whereas an SUV/van taxi is just an expensive form of transportation. Another factor in turning down the "real" taxi job was that earlier that same day, I accepted an offer to take over the maintenance of the rickshaws starting in the fall, along with some other supervisory duties.
2.21.2016
Trans North Georgia
I've discovered a pattern in my thought processes. Basically, if I get an idea in my head, it's going to happen sooner or later unless I can convince myself that the outcome would be total misery and destruction. Realizing this pattern, I've tried to quit second guessing myself without being too impulsive. I've even gone through with some bad ideas, knowing they were bad at the time, because eventhough the chance of failure was high, the consequences were manageable.
The most prominent case being the time I tested out my Hobie 16 homemade solo righting system. I think it goes without saying, that flipping a boat over on purpose, when you're out by yourself, knowing there's a good chance you won't be able to right it, is a bad idea. But it just so happened, that the conditions were favorable that day: minimal tidal movement and a mild south wind. So, worst case I'd drift into the beach. I even lined up with a specific part of the beach I wanted to drift into. Long story short, my righting system failed, I drifted into shallow water and still spent twenty minutes trying to get it upright. I even attracted a few spectators on the beach. Eventually, I righted the boat and went on my way.
Following that same pattern, I've had the idea of racing the Trans North Georgia for a few months now. Admittedly, it's a bad idea. The TNGA is a 350 mile mountain bike ride/race from South Carolina to Alabama, through Georgia's roughest terrain complete with bears, snakes, and hillbillies. See Deliverance for reference. Technically it's not a race, but, as all cyclists should know, when two or more bikes are in close proximity, it is always a race. Sadly, the mileage of this event isn't even the bad part. The real kicker is the 56,000ft of elevation gain. That's nearly twice the height of Mt Everest, ridden in two or three days.
So why put myself through this? Because it's there. Because there's a ~50% failure rate for first timers, and that chance of failure is enticing. Also, if I don't do it this year, I'll be waiting until 2018. I've already got plans to see the solar eclipse in 2017.
Luckily, I have a pretty good starting point as far as training goes. I really don't plan on doing much fitness-wise. But, I want to get used to eating while riding and maybe experiment with riding while fatigued. I also need to perfect my gear set-up: shoes/pedals, saddle, handlebar position/grips. And, of course I'll need to decide what to bring and which bike to bring, which means coming up with a strategy. Some people recommend riding twenty hours a week to prepare for such a long race, but I think that's unnecessary. After a certain point, endurance is all about being mentally strong and staying fuelled up.
The race starts August 20th, which gives me six months to get things sorted out. I'll be posting training/gear updates between now and then along with the usual topics of work, racing, inefficiency of cars, etc. Stay tuned!
The most prominent case being the time I tested out my Hobie 16 homemade solo righting system. I think it goes without saying, that flipping a boat over on purpose, when you're out by yourself, knowing there's a good chance you won't be able to right it, is a bad idea. But it just so happened, that the conditions were favorable that day: minimal tidal movement and a mild south wind. So, worst case I'd drift into the beach. I even lined up with a specific part of the beach I wanted to drift into. Long story short, my righting system failed, I drifted into shallow water and still spent twenty minutes trying to get it upright. I even attracted a few spectators on the beach. Eventually, I righted the boat and went on my way.
Following that same pattern, I've had the idea of racing the Trans North Georgia for a few months now. Admittedly, it's a bad idea. The TNGA is a 350 mile mountain bike ride/race from South Carolina to Alabama, through Georgia's roughest terrain complete with bears, snakes, and hillbillies. See Deliverance for reference. Technically it's not a race, but, as all cyclists should know, when two or more bikes are in close proximity, it is always a race. Sadly, the mileage of this event isn't even the bad part. The real kicker is the 56,000ft of elevation gain. That's nearly twice the height of Mt Everest, ridden in two or three days.
So why put myself through this? Because it's there. Because there's a ~50% failure rate for first timers, and that chance of failure is enticing. Also, if I don't do it this year, I'll be waiting until 2018. I've already got plans to see the solar eclipse in 2017.
Luckily, I have a pretty good starting point as far as training goes. I really don't plan on doing much fitness-wise. But, I want to get used to eating while riding and maybe experiment with riding while fatigued. I also need to perfect my gear set-up: shoes/pedals, saddle, handlebar position/grips. And, of course I'll need to decide what to bring and which bike to bring, which means coming up with a strategy. Some people recommend riding twenty hours a week to prepare for such a long race, but I think that's unnecessary. After a certain point, endurance is all about being mentally strong and staying fuelled up.
The race starts August 20th, which gives me six months to get things sorted out. I'll be posting training/gear updates between now and then along with the usual topics of work, racing, inefficiency of cars, etc. Stay tuned!
2.14.2016
Gravel and High Points
While researching Thacker Mountain - a known high point near the Whirlpool Trails - I came across this website. Apparently some people make a hobby out of finding local high points in places where there are no mountains to summit. Thacker "Mountain" is one of the high points listed, but unfortunately, it is now private property. The other two high points listed for Lafayette County are off of some back-roads in Holly Springs National Forest.
Fast forward a few months, and I finally decide to go explore the area and maybe get lost on some dirt roads. There's been a recent rise in popularity of riding road bikes on gravel/dirt roads, so I figured I'd see what the fuss was all about and took the road bike.
Getting to the county road that goes into Holly Springs, requires about two miles of travel on Hwy 30, which isn't a major highway but still has plenty of drivers who are in a hurry. After getting off the highway as quickly as possible, I find out that there's a logging operation on the narrow road of CR 225. Great. About a mile after the deforestation, things get really quiet and the road turns to gravel. The only sounds are my breathing, the wind in the tops of the pine trees, and rocks shooting out from under my high pressure tires as I slowly grind up the biggest hill I've seen near Oxford.
The road finally levels off. The two high points are nearby, but I can't distinguish which hill tops are the highest. A couple of times, I get off to scramble up the hill in search of the survey marker but no luck. Back on the bike, the road smooths out to hard-packed dirt and I pick up speed. Too much speed as the road quickly turns back to chunky gravel. I feel rim hit rock multiple times before I can stop. Pinch flat. Luckily it was only the front wheel, and I had a spare tube.
I'd have to be more careful for the rest of the ride. More chunky gravel. I realize I brought the wrong tool for this job and decide to head back to civilization. I find some (rough) pavement again and come up on a turn that will take me back towards town when two dogs start barking at me. No big deal, they're not acting aggressively, just barking. Except there's another sound. A few hundred pound pig comes out of the woods, blocking my way and trotting towards me, grunting. Now, I'm unfamiliar with the do's and dont's around livestock. All I know is big heavy animals can trample me. I turn the other way and ride away from it, but it keeps following me. I gain enough ground to check the map; a possible detour would add several miles to the trip and dump me out in a bad place on Hwy 30. Taking my chances with the pig, I ride towards it slowly as it trots towards me, now near the edge of the road. I get as close as I dare, then sprint passed it. Passed the dogs who've settled down.
I climb a big hill up to the highway, cross it, and descend again. The road starts to level out, and I see more gravel up ahead. No big deal, I'll just go slow. But there's something else. A big dog barking aggressively and leading a small pack, all running full speed trying to head me off. The logical decision here is to slow down and face the dogs, since most dogs just want to bark. Unfortunately, my fight or flight response system overrides any logical thinking. Since I'm already moving at a good speed and know I can out-sprint a dog, my brain selects flight. I press harder on the pedals and hit the gravel at almost 30mph. I'll admit, running on adrenaline and sprinting away from a big dog on an unstable surface was pretty exciting and a little bit fun.
I get chased for about a quarter mile before he lets up. I slow down only to find the other thing I was afraid of. Another pinch flat. Now I'm stranded in the middle of nowhere. Fortunately, a cycling club member came through for me and picked me up. Good thing I had a phone. It would've been a long walk back.
I didn't get to explore nearly as much as I wanted, but at least I now know that there are some cool gravel roads in the area. I'll have to rethink how to get to them though. And bring a better bike next time. A cross bike would be ok, but that gravel is thick enough that a geared mountain bike wouldn't be overkill. Also, there were some closed and abandoned double track trails that looked interesting. I may start making frequent rides out there as the area seems to be a good place to train for the Trans North Georgia! More on that next time.
Lesson learned: road bikes and gravel don't mix. I don't care what others say.
Getting to the county road that goes into Holly Springs, requires about two miles of travel on Hwy 30, which isn't a major highway but still has plenty of drivers who are in a hurry. After getting off the highway as quickly as possible, I find out that there's a logging operation on the narrow road of CR 225. Great. About a mile after the deforestation, things get really quiet and the road turns to gravel. The only sounds are my breathing, the wind in the tops of the pine trees, and rocks shooting out from under my high pressure tires as I slowly grind up the biggest hill I've seen near Oxford.
The road finally levels off. The two high points are nearby, but I can't distinguish which hill tops are the highest. A couple of times, I get off to scramble up the hill in search of the survey marker but no luck. Back on the bike, the road smooths out to hard-packed dirt and I pick up speed. Too much speed as the road quickly turns back to chunky gravel. I feel rim hit rock multiple times before I can stop. Pinch flat. Luckily it was only the front wheel, and I had a spare tube.
I'd have to be more careful for the rest of the ride. More chunky gravel. I realize I brought the wrong tool for this job and decide to head back to civilization. I find some (rough) pavement again and come up on a turn that will take me back towards town when two dogs start barking at me. No big deal, they're not acting aggressively, just barking. Except there's another sound. A few hundred pound pig comes out of the woods, blocking my way and trotting towards me, grunting. Now, I'm unfamiliar with the do's and dont's around livestock. All I know is big heavy animals can trample me. I turn the other way and ride away from it, but it keeps following me. I gain enough ground to check the map; a possible detour would add several miles to the trip and dump me out in a bad place on Hwy 30. Taking my chances with the pig, I ride towards it slowly as it trots towards me, now near the edge of the road. I get as close as I dare, then sprint passed it. Passed the dogs who've settled down.
I climb a big hill up to the highway, cross it, and descend again. The road starts to level out, and I see more gravel up ahead. No big deal, I'll just go slow. But there's something else. A big dog barking aggressively and leading a small pack, all running full speed trying to head me off. The logical decision here is to slow down and face the dogs, since most dogs just want to bark. Unfortunately, my fight or flight response system overrides any logical thinking. Since I'm already moving at a good speed and know I can out-sprint a dog, my brain selects flight. I press harder on the pedals and hit the gravel at almost 30mph. I'll admit, running on adrenaline and sprinting away from a big dog on an unstable surface was pretty exciting and a little bit fun.
I get chased for about a quarter mile before he lets up. I slow down only to find the other thing I was afraid of. Another pinch flat. Now I'm stranded in the middle of nowhere. Fortunately, a cycling club member came through for me and picked me up. Good thing I had a phone. It would've been a long walk back.
I didn't get to explore nearly as much as I wanted, but at least I now know that there are some cool gravel roads in the area. I'll have to rethink how to get to them though. And bring a better bike next time. A cross bike would be ok, but that gravel is thick enough that a geared mountain bike wouldn't be overkill. Also, there were some closed and abandoned double track trails that looked interesting. I may start making frequent rides out there as the area seems to be a good place to train for the Trans North Georgia! More on that next time.
Lesson learned: road bikes and gravel don't mix. I don't care what others say.
1.21.2016
Carless?
I've recently convinced myself that I don't need a car. Oxford is actually a great town for bike commuting, and I've even trained Lucy to ride in a basket. For those few out of town trips, I could ride with friends, rent a car, or if I have time, bikepack. The remaining issue is what to do on mornings like this. It's 40 degrees and pouring rain, nevermind the lightning. Fortunately, this morning I was able to stay home and work towards perfecting my waffle recipe*. But, the day will come when I need to be somewhere.
My current residence is a mile from the bus stop and about 2.5 from campus. Even if I drove to campus, it's still at least a 5 minute walk to class. Might as well just ride. I've got fenders, a good rain jacket, and waterproof boots. I usually feel goofy in rain pants, but they might be warranted on days like this.
Eventhough I don't need a car, I have to admit they are quite convenient at times. They're also extremely expensive when you add up all the associated costs. My little truck is about 40% of my monthly expenses**. Too much for something that stays in the driveway most days. I at least want to downsize. I don't need a car that's big enough to live in.
Another interesting way to think about it is in terms of miles driven divided by hours spent driving plus hours spent working to pay for said car, shown here. The numbers may need some adjusting, but the outcome is that driving and biking equate to about the same speed. Except with biking you end up with more money and better fitness. When did we start thinking that everyone 16+ must have a car? I suppose it comes down to status symbols, indoctrination, bad urban development, yada, yada...
*At the heart of cooking is simple chemistry and thermodynamics. So what makes a lighter crispier waffle? Thinner batter with more oil for crispiness, baking powder for more expansion, and a higher temperature because a lighter waffle doesn't take as long to cook. Also, a waffle maker with more thermal mass would probably produce more consistent waffles.
**Of course that will go down when it's paid off with minimal insurance, but I would still need to budget for repairs.
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