Showing posts sorted by date for query commuter. Sort by relevance Show all posts
Showing posts sorted by date for query commuter. Sort by relevance Show all posts

Sunday, December 14, 2025

What Happened?

The Zombie, sitting in his office. Why isn't he out on a bike? Who knows?

I ended my last blog post with two questions:

  1. Is this the end of my blogging?
  2. Is this the end  my cycling?

The answer to both of these questions is the same: I hope not, but I worry it might be. I have not ridden 300+ minutes (my goal) during any week since that post, and during those 8 weeks, there have only been 4 where I have reached even the lesser-goal of 150 minutes a week. There was a stretch of 9 days where I did no riding at all, not even a trainer ride. It has been 28 days since I have been outdoors on a bike, any riding I have done has been on my trainer. I am not happy with this state of affairs and am thinking hard about how to get out of this slump. If not the end of my cycling, could this be the end of my blogging?

Do any of you really want to read about me not riding my bike? I don't think so. So, unless I can do something interesting on a bicycle, I don't really have anything to blog about. In 2017 I went from trying to post once a week and failing to trying to post once a month and succeeding. Since then, my posting had been remarkably consistent until two months ago when I missed a monthly post for the first time since moving to California in 2017. Having missed that one post, I may never post again, and if I do, I have no idea when that will be, but the one thing I will promise is that I will not post again until there is something I really am inspired to write about that has something to do with bicycles.

What Happened?


In my last post I said about sticking to a cycling schedule "Once I miss a week, the spell is broken, and I am more likely to miss future weeks". That's exactly what happened, but I think there is more to be said than that. One fact that I feel is relevant is that this lapse was preceded by my second longest run of rides that met the 300 minute goal since I restarted cycling. I think these two things might be related. Starting with the Art of Survival in May of 2024, I have been struggling to maintain my enthusiasm for cycling. My speed on that ride was so poor that I decided to stop riding metric centuries, the events that had been my most important source of motivation up until then. It is true that I did manage to complete my 75th birthday ride a few months later and that did give me immense satisfaction. The problem was that it was a one-off, I did not provide any motivation for the future. I tried a number of different things that I hoped would provide that motivation, developing a training program that I hoped would increase my speed, making an effort to ride and appreciate my entire collection of bicycles, seeking out new routes for rides, and these things did work for a while, but somewhere about the middle of that last long run of 300+ minute weeks, the motivation from of all these faded and the only thing keeping me going was the determination to stay above 300 minutes a week. The thing that actually ended that run was a week of rain. It is almost impossible for me to accumulate 300 minutes during a week where my riding is restricted to my trainer. Once my winning streak was broken, that last motivating factor was gone.

I want to mention one more interesting bit of news. I had my routine physical a few weeks ago. I talked to my doctor about my sciatica which comes from age-related deterioration of my spine and also talked to him about my frustration with the dropping speed of my bike rides. He surprised me by suggesting the two might be related. If the nerves leading to my leg muscles are being pinched as a result of my spinal deterioration, that might reduce the strength of those muscles. This is on top of my theory that the pain resulting from my sciatica contributes to a generalized fatigue which both reduces my enthusiasm and might also affect my speed. My aging back might be playing a larger role in this story than I have been giving it credit for.

This is Not the First Time


Well gosh, this all seems so hopeless. The good news is that I have been here before and in each case, I managed to start riding again. I have blogged many times about how my cycling restart in August of 2008 was something of a false start in that by February of the following year I had stopped riding and didn't start again for over a year. But even if I ignore that lapse and just scroll through entries in my cycling journal since then, there are plenty of multi-week lapses, my current slump is not all that unusual.

All that may be true of riding, but how about blogging? Back in 2017 I stopped blogging for four months but restarted thereafter. Why might this time be different? What is different is that I have been wondering for quite some time now why I was continuing to blog. More and more I have been feeling that I have had nothing new to say. Arguably, this is not even particularly connected to my current riding slump. There is one more blog post I do hope to write concerning a ride I hope to complete, the 60th birthday ride for my Hetchins which would happen in July of 2027, the 60th anniversary of the day I picked it up and began my European bicycle tour. Does that mean no more blog posts for a year and a half? Who knows. If I come up with an idea that I am excited about, I may resume blogging before then.

An Aside


Given that this might be my last blog post, I am going to stick in something that I have been working on as its own post which is somewhat relevant, and that is the context in which this is all happening. So far, my second cycling career has lasted over 17 years. (A generous estimate of the length of my first cycling career is 14 years.) 9 of those years were in Texas, 8 since my move back to California. Of those 8 years, more than 5 have been since my move into my current home in the middle of the Santa Cruz mountains. "The days are long but the years are short" as the saying goes. 17 years is a significant fraction of the lifetime of a person. 

Another point of reference: I am not certain of this, but it is my impression that there are groups on Facebook for cyclists in their 60s and for cyclists in their 70s, but no groups for cyclists in their 80s. Similarly, most (but not all) of my high school riding buddies have stopped cycling. The 70s seem to be the age when this happens.

As of the time of this post, the Social Security Administration expects me to live 11 more years, less than the length of my second cycling career and only twice the amount of time I have been in my current home. Maybe it is not surprising that I have to start letting go of some things. All that said, I haven't given up yet. Quitting cycling will happen when it happens and not before.

What can I Do to Regain my Enthusiasm?

For my first three years in California, I lived in a rented house in a fairly flat part of the Peninsula. Once I got there, I found that when I replaced and adjusted the height of the saddle on my wife's commuter bike, it fit me quite well and was very comfortable even on fairly long rides. The nice thing about that bike is that it was set up to be ridden in normal clothing and shoes. This was especially nice when the weather got cold. There was something very motivating about hopping on that bike with absolutely no preparation and going for a ride.

About five and a half years ago, my landlord dramatically increased my rent and I decided to purchase a house. That seemed like a golden opportunity to try to find something closer to my grandkids, which I managed to do, I am now just four doors down from them. The one thing I worried about, correctly in retrospect, is that this new neighborhood is much hillier than my old, making it harder to manage that same kind of easy, door to door rides I had been doing when I wasn't up for a hillier ride. One consequence of that is that I haven't ridden my wife's old commuter bike since that move. From my current house, I have a choice: I can either take a hilly ride leaving from my driveway or if I want to do an easier ride, I have to put one of my bikes on my car and drive to a flatter area. The only bikes with low enough gears to allow me to ride these hills pretty much demand special cycling clothes and shoes, just enough of a production as to create a bit of friction. Driving to a flatter route, giving me a greater choice of suitable bicycles, creates a different kind of friction. That said, I now have a new rack on the back of my car that would allow me to transport my wife's commuter bike. If I got it back into riding condition (it needs maintenance), might the joy of riding that bike help with my enthusiasm, even given that I would have to drive to ride it? That might be something to try. I could maybe combine that with the exploration of new routes, that bike is especially good for riding on the many stretches of the Bay Trail that are gravel, and there are some interesting parts of that trail that I would love to explore.

Last August, I got my granddaughter a very nice new bicycle for her birthday, allowing her younger brother to claim the very nice bike she had just outgrown. It has been a bit heartbreaking that since getting that bike four months ago, she has only managed to ride it once. There is nothing wrong with the bike and it is not that she doesn't like to cycle, it is just that their family has a very busy schedule. I have been wondering if I can do something about that, maybe getting the two grandkids to join me for a ride on the traffic-free Bay Trail. And of course, there is that birthday ride for my Hetchins. Maybe, given all these wonderful opportunities, the Zombie will ride again.

So is this "goodbye" or is it "see you later"? I wish I knew.



Sunday, November 8, 2020

40,000 Miles and Counting


Approximately six years ago I posted about the first 20,000 miles of cycling I had done since I restarted cycling in 2008. In this post, I will continue the tradition and blog about reaching 40,000 miles. I went back and re-read that earlier post and was struck by how relevant it still is. By simply updating the numbers I could probably reuse that earlier post, but I don't want to do that. Instead, I am going to look at the subject from a different angle and consider different issues than I did last time. Given that, it seemed appropriate to focus on not just my second 20,000 miles, but to (re)consider all 40,000 miles I have ridden.

So what are the new issues I am looking to consider this time around?
  • I did not ride alone. My wife Agi was my most frequent and by far my favorite riding partner and was a significant cyclist in her own right. I won't say I neglected her on this blog, given its original focus and Agi's intense desire for privacy I feel like I did the right thing at the time. Now, however, I feel like it is time to look at her part in all this in more detail.
  • 10,000 miles ago, I suffered the worst blow of my life: I lost Agi to cancer. This changed every aspect of my life, cycling included.
  • During the 12 years of my second cycling career I also retired, went through the illness and death of both my parents, acquired two daughters-in-law and two grandchildren, moved from a flat part of Texas to a hilly part of California, went through hurricanes and forest fires and now a global pandemic. And let us not forget that, at my age, the physical consequences of getting 12 years older is no small thing. Physically, I am not the same person who started all this so long ago. How I cycle is not just the product of training theories and my interests, but is probably even more the product of these life events.
  • I have been learning about modern bicycle technology and training practices. I know so much more now than I did when I started all this back in '08.
As I was approaching 55 years of age I realized my physical condition had deteriorated badly and that I needed to start an exercise program. I had initial successes with weight training, swimming, and running, but in each case, my resolve eventually faded and the exercise program came to a stop. In early 2008, as I was approaching my 59th birthday, I got a surprise phone call from Paul, a member of my high school bicycle club. Before that call, Paul and I had been out of touch for forty years. We reminisced about our bicycle club, the Modesto Roadmen, and as a result, he got on eBay and bought himself a modern carbon road bike and I took my 1960 Bianchi Specialissima to a local bike shop to be returned to a rideable condition, and we both started riding again. My first ride, five miles home from the bike shop, was on August 1, 2008. My second ride was on August 5, 2008. It was five miles around our neighborhood and I was joined by my wife on the 1973 Gitane road bike we had bought for her back when we first started dating. Although not all my riding was done with Agi, a significant fraction was. She was an enthusiastic cyclist and a wonderful partner on a ride. For her landmark 60th birthday that October she decided to celebrate with a bicycling weekend in the Hill Country of Texas. Just weeks later, she was diagnosed with ovarian cancer. Ovarian cancer has a terrible prognosis and we were devastated. We were relatively fortunate, she did much better than the average ovarian cancer patient, living eight more years, many of those cancer free. During those eight years, cycling continued to be one of our favorite things to do. But that was later. Sometime during the 16 months she was too sick to ride, my riding virtually stopped as well. So how is this different from weight training and swimming and running, other forms of exercise which I started and abandoned? As I have confessed on this blog more than once, in many ways, it wasn't. The biggest way it was different is that I eventually restarted cycling on a regular basis and have continued doing so for ten years and counting. Another way it is different is that virtually stopped and stopped are not quite the same thing. During those 16 months, I rode five rides, ranging from 20 to 35 miles in length. In retrospect, I am amazed I could do that. My first five mile ride in August of 2008 left me exhausted. Within a month or two I was easily completing 20, 30 and 40 mile rides, which is the expected result of training, but what was unexpected, at least to me, was that the ability to do those longer rides didn't go away even after six months off the bike. I have no explanation for that.

A final reason that cycling was different from my other attempts at exercising is that although Agi and I stopped riding, we never stopped talking about riding. One of the reasons I had stopped riding was that at some point I had ridden over a pothole which damaged the rear rim on my Bianchi making it unrideable. I was both discouraged by the amount of maintenance my Bianchi required and unable to decide what I wanted to do about it: should I try to keep it in its historically pristine but fragile condition or should I make it less authentic but more practical by replacing the sew-up rims with clinchers, for example [2]? Agi was also unhappy with her old Gitane, a relatively low end bike to begin with, so our conversations began to turn towards getting new, matching bikes. As I began to research what we should buy, I was overwhelmed by the extent to which bicycles had changed since 1973, the last time we had purchased a bike [3]. I finally found two bikes that looked vaguely familiar to me, the Bianchi Volpe and the Surly Crosscheck. We were unable to find a Volpe in my wife's size (they exist, just not in the bike shops of Houston) so we purchased a matched pair of Surlys, and the rest is history. 

We got our new Surlys in April of 2010 and went out for a ride the day we brought them home. In May, Agi had her last cycle of chemotherapy; her cancer treatment was over. In June, we were both in San Diego for business and took the opportunity to rent bikes and ride out to a scenic lighthouse. By July we were ready for a week long cycling vacation in Maine with our two boys. In September, we decided to start checking out some of the local cycling resources, and went on a short, easy ride offered by the Houston Bicycle Club. In November, we picked up a book on the best rides in and around Houston and started trying some of them. Most weekends we would manage to take a local ride or two together. From the day we came home with our Surlys to the end of 2010 was 35 weeks. For 28 of those weeks I managed to reach the minimal medical  recommendation of 150 minutes of cycling and for 14 of those weeks I exceeded the optimal 300 minutes [4]. One more important thing happened in 2010. Agi believed that the only way to get the best food was by shopping for different items at different stores. Her favorite store for produce was a farmers market-like Houston institution known as Canino's which was ten miles from where we lived. In October of 2010 we did our first Canino's shopping trip by bike, officially making us utility cyclists.

In 2011 Agi and I continued with our weekend fun rides and continued bicycling to Canino's to shop for produce. Baylor College of Medicine where I worked was a big supporter of The Tour de Pink, a charity ride which raised money for breast cancer patients. In September of 2011, Agi and I rode the Tour de Pink for the first time, a ride that would become an annual event for us. In June, our younger son Matthew graduated from the University of Chicago. Because he had so much stuff to bring home and because Agi and I loved long road trips together, we drove from Houston to Chicago, attended the graduation, stuffed our 2006 Honda CR/V (which I am still driving) full of Matthew's stuff and drove him back to Houston.Two weeks later, we gave him our other car, a 2005 Toyota Corolla (which he is still driving) as a graduation present, and I drove it with him to California so he could start his new job in Silicon Valley. Our plan was to replace the car we had given Matthew with a new one. However, we soon found we could get by fairly well with one car. Still, it was a little inconvenient, especially if we forgot to plan ahead, so in March of 2012, Agi started commuting to work by bicycle. Once she started, she loved it! It was actually faster than driving and had the advantage of providing her with regular exercise. Between that and the shopping trips to Canino's our utility cycling cred was growing.

Once we were in California, Matthew and I took some time to visit friends and family, including Paul, my friend from High School who started this whole thing, and my parents. Although it was lovely for Matthew and I to see Mom and Dad, it was also a shock. We knew Mom had been having some problems with her health but she was much worse than we expected. She wasn't thinking clearly, she kept losing weight, and none of her doctors seemed to know what was wrong with her. At the end of July we all came back for Dad's 90th birthday party. Tragically, Mom could not be there because she was in the hospital. She remained in the hospital through most of August. I flew to California when she was released to help her move from the hospital back home and to get her and my Dad settled. It was clear to both me and my sister (who lived near them) that Dad could not manage this on his own, especially once Mom was finally diagnosed with pulmonary fibrosis and put into home hospice care, so we agreed to take turns living with them. From then until Mom's death in February of 2012 I spent about half my time in California caring for Mom and Dad and half back home in Texas. Obviously, this impacted my cycling dramatically. In December my wife and kids bought me a California bike, a 2007 Bianchi Volpe so that I could squeeze in the occasional ride while I was caring for Mom and Dad. That Volpe is currently the favorite of all my bikes. At the end of February 2012, Mom died.

In 2011 I retired [5]. (It was only because I retired I was able to spend so much time with Mom and Dad.) My first official day of retirement was September 1, but I had so many accumulated vacation days that my last day at work was in July, and thereafter, I cycled all week long. Even before I retired I rode more often than Agi did, but once I was free to ride during the week, my cycling career bifurcated, weekend bicycling with Agi, weekday cycling on my own. Being on my own, I started asking myself, "What now?" After browsing the Internet to find out what was going on in cycling in this Brave New World, I discovered Randonneuring [1] and for three to four years that became my obsession. In August, I decided to prepare for a 200K (124 mile) brevet. That preparation was interrupted by Mom's illness, but before it was I was able to ride enough to realize that I didn't know what I was doing. I was increasing the length of my training rides too quickly and finding I could not complete them. 

Sadly, as soon as Mom died, Dad started to decline. Now I was flying out to California to care for him. At first, the trips were not nearly as frequent or long as they had been for Mom so I was able to prepare for and successfully complete a 200K Brevet in May of 2012. While I had been caring for Mom, Agi had been searching for a training book for me. This time, I followed a training plan from the book she found and that allowed me to complete my first brevet. In May of 2012 I posted on this blog for the first time, two weeks to the day after that brevet. That timing was no coincidence. The excitement I felt at having become a randonneur made me want to blog about it, and as a result, the meager two brevets I completed resulted in a disproportionate amount of discussion of randonneuring on this blog. Randonneuring was one part of my cycling I didn't share with Agi which accounts for her getting relatively little attention. In reality, the role Agi played in my cycling was vastly more important than that played by randonneuring.

What I didn't learn from that book, either because it was not explained well or because I did not read it carefully, is what to do after the brevet. Believe it or not, after resting a week (good) I assumed that I should just start doing the longest training ride I had worked up to, 90 miles, as my weekly long ride (bad). That lasted two weeks before becoming unsustainable. I then assumed I should just start over from the beginning, and so did that in an attempt to prepare for a second 200K brevet in November. Following that plan, I was able to ramp up to 80 miles, but was unable to complete a 90 mile ride the week after so had to abandon that brevet attempt. In an effort to figure out what went wrong, I started reading other training books, and for some reason became enamored with Greg Maffetone's "The Big Book of Endurance Training and Racing." I purchased a heart rate monitor and started doing a training ride that was based on my interpretation of that book, a ride that I called a MAF test

MAF tests continued to be a major component of my training until I moved to California five years later. One thing that made the MAF tests work so well for me was a unique Houston resource, the Rice University Bike Track. That track was located only a few miles from my home and was on Agi's commute to work so that I could keep her company on her ride to work and then do my workout on the track. Physically, the track was not much, it was just some painted lines in one of the Rice University parking lots. What made it special is that the parking lot was unused most of the time (it was used during football games) and so the track was blocked off from cars, making it about the safest place imaginable to ride. It was a third of a mile around, there was no banking on the turns, but for me, that was not a limitation, I could ride it as fast my legs and lungs would allow. My version of the MAF test required me to ride for 45 minutes, maintaining my heart rate between 130 and 140 beats per minute. If I tried to do that in traffic, the distraction of watching my bike computer would have almost certainly caused me to have an accident. On the track, doing so was completely safe. So, the availability of the Rice Bike Track made MAF tests possible. That is why when I moved to California, I could not continue riding MAF tests. The Rice Track was also a great place for intervals and time trials. 

As my next 200K attempt approached in May of 2013, I started adding long rides to the MAF test rides. I increased the length of these long rides by 10% each week, and by doing that was able to complete that second 200K, riding it faster and more comfortably than I had the first. However, when I tried to do a third brevet in November, I ran into the same problem I did the year before, I could work my way up to an 80 mile training ride but could not complete a 90 mile ride the following week. To this day I am not sure why that was. I have a bunch of possible explanations but not enough data or understanding to decide which one to believe.

Meanwhile, Agi and I had either settled into a pattern or fallen into a rut, depending on how you want to look at it. She was biking to work. We were biking to Canino's for produce. Most weekends, we would go on one or two rides together, but always took the same three or four routes. Most of my weekday cycling was around and around on the Rice Track, a mixture of MAF tests, intervals, time trials, or social rides when I happened to bump into one of my Rice Track buddies. I hadn't yet given up on riding brevets, but in 2014 my local randonneuring club didn't offer a 200K in May so I decided to wait until the November 200K, or that was my plan. Unfortunately, Dad's health continued to deteriorate, and so my efforts to prepare for that brevet were interrupted by trips to California. I worked around those and felt like I was on track to complete that brevet when a medical emergency had me in California caring for Dad instead, so no brevet in 2014. Dad's illness continued to progress and he died in July of 2015

Agi was finding my absence during all those trips to California emotionally difficult so I looked for ways to spend more time with her when I was in Texas. We rode the Bluebonnet Express, another charity ride, in February of 2015 and we did a second, longer ride with the Houston Bike Club in March. As Agi and I rode through the Hill Country of Texas together, having been dropped by the other Houston Bike Club riders, Agi turned to me and asked for a favor: "Could you quit riding brevets and instead focus on rides we can do together?" That was the end of my career as a randonneur. A month later her cancer came back. Recurrent ovarian cancer is not curable but it is treatable, so we hoped for several more years together. We were given two. Chemotherapy is never easy, but if you looked at our cycling schedule or at Agi's work schedule, you would never have guessed anything unusual was going on, at least at first. We rode the Tour de Pink that September, but it was for the last time. By the summer of 2016 she was feeling bad enough that it was difficult for her to throw her leg over her road bike with its traditional diamond frame so we bought her an urban commuter with a step through frame to allow her to continue biking to work. November 30, 2016, she commuted to work, and that was to be the last bike ride of her life. By December, we started what became a discouraging series of emergency hospital visits. There were still some good times ahead, but by May she was transferred to home hospice care and on June 10, 2017, she died. It goes without saying that Agi's illness impacted my cycling, but I rode when I could, and ten days after her death I reached 30,000 miles of riding since my restart in 2008. Three quarters of this story is now over.

So how did all these ups and downs affect my cycling schedule in terms of health and fitness? RUSA, the governing organization for randonneuring in the United States, suggests that randonneurs should average at least 5,000 miles a year of cycling. I reached a peak of 5,571 miles during the year between July 2012 to July  2013, but by February of 2014 my average had fallen below that magic 5,000 never to return. I'm not completely sure why that that was, perhaps it was all the MAF tests which are relatively short rides, but if I had been able to attempt a brevet in November of 2014, I would have been considered underprepared. The medical community has a lower bar. They divide exercise intensity into three levels, light, moderate, and vigorous. Bicycling is considered either moderate or vigorous depending on how you ride. To be conservative, I have always counted cycling as moderate exercise. The Medical community wants me to engage in a minimum of 150 minutes a week of moderate exercise, and says that ideally I should up that to 300 minutes. Most weeks I managed to easily exceed that 300 minute recommendation. Because of week to week variation, I have started tracking a running average of minutes per week over the last year. That weekly average peaked at 494 in July of 2013 and stayed above 400 until May of 2015. In February of 2017, during some of the worst of Agi's illness, my average weekly minutes finally fell below the magic number of 300.

Losing Agi is the hardest thing I have ever experienced. I couldn't imagine how I could recover from that until I finally accepted that I couldn't, the old me was gone forever, my only recourse was to create a new me. After the burying and mourning and selling of the house and Hurricane Harvey and getting rid of all the stuff that I wasn't taking to California and arranging to have the rest moved, I hopped into my trusty CR/V and started the long road trip from Houston, Texas to San Carlos, California. The drive was not nearly as much fun without Agi by my side. As a result of all these disruptions, there were six weeks where I did no significant riding and my yearly averages continued to fall. But soon, I had started defining some new go-to rides in my new home state of California and resumed a regular schedule. A few weeks after moving into my new home in San Carlos I reached a low of 1967 miles a year and 180 minutes a week, then slowly, those averages started creeping back up. 

As of today, I have ridden 40,336 miles total, 9,776 which have been ridden since I arrived in California, so California now represents a significant chunk of my second cycling career. I seem to have reached a steady state where I am averaging between 300 and 350 minutes a week of riding and 3,000 to 3,500 miles a year. Back in September of 2016, Agi and I attended the 50th reunion of my High School bicycle club, the Modesto Roadmen. One of the other attendees was Roger, who showed up with this his gorgeous 1970s Singer touring bike. As I was admiring it, he urged me to bring my 1960 Bianchi Specialissima to the next running of Eroica California, a combination group ride and bike show centered around vintage bikes. Eroica California is held in April, and given Agi's advancing illness, attending in 2017 was out of the question. After I moved to California, I planned attending in 2018 but developed pneumonia and was unable to make it. Roger was disappointed by my absence so suggested that in May, I drive the seven hours up to his place (California is a big state) and ride with him in The Art of Survival, a metric century (100 kilometer/62 mile) group bike ride, which I did. This gave me the fun challenge my California cycling had been looking for, or rather, two challenges. The first was demonstrably achievable, to ride a metric century. I had just done one, would I do another? It was now my turn to suggest a ride so I started looking for one and came across just the ticket, the Golden Hills metric century. It's biggest attraction for Roger and me was that it was held on the roads we used to ride together back in the days of The Modesto Roadmen. 

The second challenge Roger set for me was more aspirational, one that I have only achieved in the most minimal way possible, a metric century a month. The closest I have come to that goal is back to back metric centuries in October and November of 2019, but I get ahead of myself. In April of 2019, I and my 1960 Bianchi Specialissima finally made it to Eroica. The following month I once again rode the Art of Survival with Roger, I rode a short version The Death Ride with my son Michael, and repeated Golden Hills as well. The new me in my new life in California is not only meeting his medically mandated riding goals, he is finding ways to have fun as well. My plan for 2020 was to do the same, and if possible, more. My reality was the COVID-19 pandemic. All group rides were cancelled in 2020. Will COVID-19 ever be controlled well enough that we can go back to the way things were or are group rides, at least for the elderly like me, a thing of the past?

So what does the future hold? I confess, 40,000 is pretty lame as round numbers go, wouldn't it have made more sense to wait until I had ridden 50,000 miles to post this? There were three reasons I didn't wait. First, I didn't want to. Second, my previous summary was at 20,000 miles, so it seemed logical to write another post after another 20,000 miles. Third, at my age, it would be presumptuous to assume I have 10,000 more miles in me. "Don't wait until tomorrow to do what you can do today" is advice that becomes more urgent for me as each year goes by. That third reason is probably the most important. And yet, there is no reason for despair. While it would be presumptuous to assume I will be riding 10,000 more miles, it would be silly to assume that I will not. If I am able to continue riding and if I ride at my current level, I would reach 50,000 miles in September of 2023 at which time I will be 74 years old. At my age, time is most definitely not my friend, but it is not impossible that, even riding against that headwind, I might still be able to get a bit more fit than I am today. Will the Zombie make it to 50,000 miles, and if he does, what cycling adventures will he have enjoyed? Stay tuned to find out.




Footnotes


[1] Randonneuring is a subsport within cycling which consists of a series of endurance challenges. The most common rides are 200, 300, 400, 600, and 1200 kilometers long, which translates to between 124 and 744 miles. These rides must be completed within a specified length of time, 13.5 and 90 hours for the 200 and 1200 kilometer rides respectively, with the others falling in between. These rides are referred to as brevets. RUSA is the governing organization for randonneuring in the United States and you can read all about this sport on their website.

[2] This is a debate I have with myself even today.

[3] We did purchase a 10 speed bike for my older son in 1993, but as luck would have it, we purchased one of the last of the old style bikes and failed to notice how different all the other bikes in the store had become.

[4] Besides cycling, Agi walked regularly and did aerobics and yoga at work. For me, cycling was my only exercise.

[5] Agi never did retire. Her last official day as an employee of the University of Texas (albeit a sick day) was the day she died.

Monday, December 2, 2019

Bay Trail

Cover of the box containing the maps of the San Francisco Bay Trail
The San Francisco Bay Trail is a work in progress which has as its goal a Hike and Bike trail running completely around the San Francisco Bay. When completed, it is expected to be about 500 miles long. To date, 350 miles have been built and are available to ride. Who is building it? the Association of Bay Area Governments, known as ABAG, is organizing the effort. ABAG describes itself as "part regional planning agency and part local government service provider." ABAG was established in 1961 and in 1989, California State Senate bill 100 authorized them to begin development of the San Francisco Bay Trail. Although ABAG does the planning, the actual building of the trail is being done by the 47 governments along the route of this trail, all of which have agreed to be part of this project. These communities use the same process and funding sources to build the section of the trail going through their community as they would use for any other pedestrian or bicycle infrastructure.

When I heard about the San Francisco Bay Trail, I googled it and found its website. The first thing I looked for there was maps of the trails. There are maps online, but there are also paper maps for purchase, and I purchased a set of maps from the online store at the Oakland Museum of California. One concern with paper maps is they can quickly go out of date. This set of maps was copyrighted in 2016, so would appear to be at least 3 years old. So far, I have not encountered any discrepancy between the map and what I find out on the road, but I am sure I will as time goes by.

The map comes in the form of a deck of 24 4x7 inch cards, each card showing one section of the trail in high resolution. The cards are laid out around the bay as shown below:



So far, I have ridden two sections of this trail, one shown on Card 4, and one shown on Card 6. This is the section of the trail shown on Card 4:



Note that the start of the trail is purple, indicating a trail not part of the SF Bay Trail, in this case a very high quality bike and hike overpass over Highway 101. 101 is always difficult to cross so this overpass is much appreciated. The overpass leads directly onto the Bay Trail. The start of the ride is only 3 miles from my house, so the 20 miles of SF Bay Trail were the focus of the ride. This section of the trail is all paved and travels through heavily populated suburban parts of the Peninsula. I first rode it on July 4, and as expected, the trail was quite busy with bikers ranging from riders in full spandex on carbon road bikes to families with kids. Mixed with the bikers were joggers and walkers. It is definitely not the best place for an all-out training ride, but for a fun ramble, it works well. It is also not the best place to get away from civilization. The trail is 100% car free, but often runs next to roads so cars and houses and the other trappings of civilization are never out of sight. The trail runs through a number of popular parks which contributes to both the crowding and the charm. July 4 was windy this year, and I especially enjoyed the families flying kites. A final point important for setting expectations is that much of San Francisco Bay is more like a wetlands rather than a deep water port; frequently, the "bay" one is riding next to is mud rather than water, especially at low tide.

The section of the Bay Trail I rode that is covered on Card 6 is about 4 miles long and is 15 miles away from my home, so it is part of a longer ride rather than its focus:



Note that, once again, I started on a trail not part of the Bay Trail, the Stephens Creek Trail, a truly wonderful ride that I have mentioned here before. Despite being located near a very heavily populated part of the Peninsula, the trail itself is a bit separated from civilization, so riding has just a bit of a "getting back to nature" feel, though bridges and powerlines were never out of sight. The biggest difference between this and the section of trail I discussed above is that majority of this stretch of the trail is dirt/gravel rather than paved. Were it not for the map cards encouraging me, I might have wondered if me and my bicycle truly belonged, it looked more like a hiking than a biking path, but encouraged by my card, ride it I did. I rode this stretch of the SF Bay Trail on my Public Bike, an urban commuter, not a mountain or gravel bike, but it did just fine. The trails are quite smooth and reasonably firm. The biggest difference between the gravel and paved sections is that the gravel sections can have large mudpuddles, especially after a rain, so bikes do get dirty and fenders are much appreciated. How well these unpaved sections worked was a revelation for me. From now on, I will have no reluctance about riding the parts of the trail marked dirt/gravel.

I rode Card 4 and Card 6, what about Card 5? Much of the trail on Card 5 is drawn in dotted lines, indicating that it hasn't been constructed yet. There are alternative routes through much of this area, I have ridden on some of them, and it can be done, but it is not the seamless car-free experience that I describe above.

What's next? There is quite a bit of trail I have yet to ride connected to what I have already ridden, and I look forward to riding that, but ultimately, I am going to run into the dreaded dotted lines, gaps in the trail that remain to be filled. The metric that truly matters, in my opinion, is less the 350 of the 500 miles of trail have been built, but more how long the contiguous stretches of trail run, for that determines how long most people will ride before turning around and going home. That said, there are some stretches near where I live that make for a nice, car-free day ride. My older son his wife and I used to enjoy biking together, and now that they have kids, I would really enjoy taking them along. However, my daughter-in-law is not comfortable taking her kids into traffic on a bike. The San Francisco Bay Trail provides the perfect solution! All we need to do is to purchase and install bike seats, and a lovely car free day outdoors is ours.

Friday, November 1, 2019

Sad Surly Story

The Zombie, riding his cronenberged 1967 Hetchins Mountain King in the 2019 Gold Hills Metric Century

"It's springtime for Hetchins and vintage bikes, it's winter for Surly, so sad!" - To the tune of "Springtime for Hitler", apologies to "The Producers"

One thing I did not mention in my post about the 2019 Golden Hills Metric Century is that I rode it on my newly resurrected Hetchins. It wasn't supposed to be that way. Way back in 2018, in preparation for my first California metric century,  The Art of Survival, I decided I had neglected routine maintenance on my poor Surly Crosscheck for so long that I needed to do that ride on my Bianchi Volpe. Until then, the Surly had been my go-to bike,  the bike I rode unless there was some reason not to. After that, my Volpe became my go-to bike. Once I took care of the deferred maintenance on the Surly, my Volpe needed maintenance, so I swapped the Volpe for the Surly. This was a few weeks before the 2019 Golden Hills metric century and so the logical thing to have done was to ride Golden Hills on my newly overhauled Surly. But when I rode the Surly, I did not like the way it felt. So a plan was born, I would ride Golden Hills on the Hetchins, even though its gears were not as low as I would like, even though it had attachments for only one water bottle, even though I did not have a rack to carry the warm clothes I would need at the start of the ride.

How did the Hetchins do? It did great! As I have posted before, the lack of low gears on some of my bikes has turned out to be less of an issue than I initially feared, and once again, gears were not an issue on this ride. Some of the other potential issues which I mentioned earlier never materialized; the shift levers never slipped and the "soft" wheels held up fine. As for the lack of water bottle cage and rack, I figured out how to stash both warm clothes and a second water bottle in my jersey pockets. I have come to love the way the Hetchins rides and I continued to enjoy that during Golden Hills. Also, the Hetchins is a remarkable, vintage bike and I got to show it off. All and all, the decision to ride my Hetchins, initially forced on me by circumstance, turned out to be a huge win.

But what was wrong with the Surly? It had been my go-to bike nine years! Well, therein lies a story. It turned out that a lot of what I didn't like about my overhauled Surly was the saddle. I have come to prefer a well broken in Brooks B17 saddle so much so that I almost can't ride anything else. Unfortunately, I only have one of those and at the time my Surly came home from the bike shop, the it was in use on the Hetchins. I had a newer B17, less well broken in, that I put on the Surly, figuring it was close to being broken in and that it was about time to finish the job. So one problem was that the saddle was too hard. I made allowances for the hard saddle, but my intuition told me there was more wrong than that, and it turned out I was right. Another problem was not the saddle itself, but adjustment of the saddle. In my blog post "Saddles and Bike Fit" one adjustment I did not talk about was the tilt of the saddle, the extent the saddle is level, has the nose pointed up, or has the nose pointed down. I always thought that saddles should be level and I don't recall tilting of the saddle ever being an issue before. It was not that the saddle felt wrong on the Surly, it was that I felt like I had way to much weight on my handlebars. That was surprising, because weight on the handlebars is normally caused by low handlebars (relative to the saddle height), and my Surly has the highest handlebars of any of my bikes. When I thought about what else might cause that feeling, it occurred to me that if the nose of the saddle were too low, I might tend to slide forward, putting weight on the handlebars. When I looked back at the Hetchins, I noticed that the saddle was not quite level, the nose pointed up just a bit. Once I adjusted the tilt of the saddle on the Surly with the nose slightly up to match the Hetchins, the Surly became much more comfortable. (A number of cyclists on the Internet note that being more comfortable with the nose a bit up is yet another peculiarity of B17 saddles.) Had I figured this out sooner and/or if I had moved the broken-in B17 from the Hetchins to the Surly, I might have decided to take the Surly to Golden Hills, a decision that, in retrospect, would have been a lost opportunity to enjoy my Hetchins.

My Surly is much more comfortable now than when I brought it home from the shop, but I still prefer my Hetchins - by a lot! Why is that? Again, part of it might be the difference in saddles. The B17 on the Hetchins is well broken in, the one on the Surly still has a ways to go. If so, that should be a self correcting problem, and to that end, I am going out of my way to put miles on the Surly and its still-hard saddle as well as slathering that saddle with Brooks Proofide. However, I think there is more to it than the saddle. Back when I was in High School, the Modesto Roadmen had a belief that different bikes had different feels when ridden, some better, some worse, and that there was no way we could tell by looking at a bike how it would feel. I remember that we found that Raleigh bikes usually rode better than we expected, for example. As a scientist, I have to believe there is no magic to this, and as I have come to learn more about bicycles, I have learned some things that are less apparent but impact ride quality. One set of things, visible but perhaps not obvious, is frame geometry. Another which is entirely invisible to the naked eye but apparently has a big impact on ride quality is the kind of steel tubing used to make the frame; that tubing can be made from different grades of steel and the walls of that tubing can have different thicknesses. I think some of that is going on between the Hetchins and the Surly. Gebhardt at Veloro Cycles has suggested that wheels and tires might be a factor as well. The Hetchins feels quite lively, whereas by comparison, the Surly feels like a brick. This is not new. Although the Surly was my go-to bike for nine years, this was despite it having a bit of an unresponsive feel. Part of the reason this did not bother me more at the time was that the only bike I had to which I could compare it was my Bianchi Specialissima, and the fit of the Surly was so much better as to more than compensate for any difference in frame feel.

Seat firmness, width, and handlebar height


The not-yet-broken-in and thus hard B17 saddle may not be the only problem with my Surly, but it is definitely a problem. I have previously discussed how I position my saddle when adjusting my bikes. Another set of issues that arose while doing those experiments concerned seat width and firmness. Of course, choice of a saddle is a very personal decision, what works for one cyclist may not work for another. What I am going to talk about here is one cyclist (me) and the comfort of the same saddle on different bikes.

I am going to talk about four saddles and four bikes. The saddles are a well broken in leather Brooks B17 (old B17), a second B17 still in the process of being broken in (new B17), a synthetic Brooks C19, and the same saddle in a narrower width, a C17. The bikes are my 2010 Surly Cross Check (Surly), my 2007 Bianchi Volpe (Volpe), my heavily modified 1967 Hetchins Mountain King (Hetchins), and my 1960 Bianchi Specialissima (Specialissima). There are some small differences in the geometry of these bikes which might be relevant, but I have no hypotheses about those so will not be discussing them. What I will be discussing is the differences in the height of the handlebars relative to the height of the saddle on these four bikes. My working hypotheses are:
  1. A softer, wider saddle can be more comfortable than a harder, narrower saddle.
  2. A harder saddle can be comfortable if it is wider.
  3. The lower the handlebars, the less weight will be on the saddle and the harder and narrower a saddle that can be comfortable.
None of my saddles are recommended for racing by their manufacturer, Brooks. The C19 is recommended for "Commuting .. in an upright riding position" (which is how I use it*.) The C17 is recommended for "City [and] travel ... hard riding in an angled riding position." The B17 is recommended for "Touring, Trekking and MTB (mountain biking)". The C19 is the widest saddle at 184 millimeters. Next are the two B17s at 175 millimeters. The narrowest is the C17 at 164 millimeters. Brooks advertises that the Cambium line to which the C19 and C17 belong do not require breaking in. I would rephrase that as cannot be broken in; both are much harder than a broken in B17. Using my fingers to judge, the newer B17 is the hardest of my saddles, the C17 and C19 are slightly softer, and the older B17 is clearly the softest.

My Specialissima has the lowest handlebars of the four bikes; they are 1⅜ inches lower than the saddle (low). Next is my Volpe with handlebars ¾ inches below the saddle (medium low). My Hetchins has handlebars 1¼ inches above the saddle (medium high), and my Surly has handlebars 2¼ inches above the saddle (high). I broke in my first B17 on my Specialissima with its low handlebars back in 2008, riding rides of up to 2 hours before the saddle was broken in with no bad consequences. In 2019, I rode the 2 hours of Eroica California on my Specialissima and the new B17 with no problem. When I recently put that same saddle on my Surly with its high handlebars and rode 34 miles on it, it felt very uncomfortable and I ended up with saddle sores. On the other hand, the old B17 feels good on all four bikes at any distance I have ridden, including a 10 hour ride on my Surly with its high handlebars. This suggests that low handlebars can make up for a hard saddle.

When I was first setting up my Hetchins (medium high handlebars) after its rebuild, I found that I could not correctly position a B17 saddle on it with the seatpost it had. I tested my C19 which I borrowed from my commuter and found that it could be positioned correctly, and that it felt comfortable during a 1 hour ride. Based on Brooks recommendations, I purchased a C17 for use on the Hetchins (returning the C19 to my commuter) but found that in a 1 hour ride is was less comfortable than the C19, and at the end of a 2 hour ride found it quite uncomfortable. This suggests that the reason the C17 is uncomfortable is a combination of being hard and being narrow. I borrowed a different seatpost so I could put my old B17 on the Hetchins and rode it that way for rides of up to 5 hours in perfect comfort. Noting that my Volpe had lower handlebars (medium low) than the Hetchins, I tried the C17 on it. It felt better in a 1 hour ride on the Volpe than the Hetchins, but not good enough that I would want to try it for longer rides. I then tried the C17 on the Specialissima (low handlebars), and found that it was comfortable for a 1 hour ride, confirming the hypothesis that a harder saddle can be comfortable when paired with lower handlebars.

How long does it take to break in a B17? The consensus of the community seems to be about 500 miles, but that is not my experience with the new B17. I have over 600 miles on it and it still feels much harder than my old B17 (which has well over 30,000 miles on it.) Is it possible that this is saddle to saddle variation rather than a lack of breaking in, that the new B17 will never be as comfortable as the old B17? Brooks leather saddles are known for such variability. Another possibility is that I waited too long to break in the new B17 - I purchased that saddle in 2012 and didn't complete my 500 mile break-in period until 2019. Only time will tell what the future holds for my new B17.

In summary, my experience, though certainly not a scientific study, did I support my hypotheses: a relatively hard C19 saddle is comfortable where an equally hard but narrower C17 is not. A not yet broken in B17 can be comfortable paired with low handlebars but not when paired with high handlebars. And a relatively wide, very soft, well broken in B17 will be comfortable on a wide variety of bikes. Using these parameters will help me pair the right saddle with the right bike depending on how I decide use them, but only time will tell how this will all play out.



* I purchased the C19 for a fifth bike, my Public commuting bike which has an upright geometry not easily comparable with the four road bikes considered here. This bike ought to put more of my weight on the saddle than any of my other bikes. That said, this saddle and bike combination are comfortable for up to 3 hours further suggesting that the C19 is a comfortable saddle, despite being hard.

Wednesday, May 22, 2019

The Hetchins Rides Again


Gebhard Ebenhoech of Veloro Bicycles LLC, who lovingly brought my Hetchins back to life. Veloro Bicycles is located at 910 Main Street in Redwood City, California. Their website is www.velorobicycles.com. Gebhard can be reached at gebhard@velorobicycles.com or 650-241-1060. If you have a 1967 Hetchins (or a similar bike) you'd like restored, Gebhard would be delighted to help you. He has an extensive collection of old tools perfect for working on vintage bikes. (He also sells fully modern high end racing bikes, if that's your fancy.)

A year ago, I blogged about how, almost exactly 50 years after I sold it, I got back the Hetchins I used to tour through Europe during the summer of 1967. Or rather, I got back what was left of it, a frame, and not even all of that original. I wrote how I was disheartened by how large the frame turned out to be, that I was far from sure I would be able to ride it. In that post I suggested "My son acquired a 1970s Centurion which he is not using, and to my eye, it looks like many of the components on that bike would be compatible with the Hetchins frame. Could I temporarily build up the Hetchins with parts from the Centurion so that I could see how rideable the resulting bike would be and to what extent I could modify the fit with changes to the stem, for example?" That is exactly what I did, and it is rideable indeed! There is not much spare standover (I can put both feet flat on the ground while standing over the frame, but just barely) so it is probably good that I am done having kids, but except for that one unimportant detail, the fit couldn't be better.

Why did it take me a year to do this? I am indecisive by nature, a trait that has gotten significantly worse with age and with the loss of my wife, and simply trying to decide on a plan kept me actionless for much of that time. Should I try to swap the parts from the Centurion myself, or should I pay someone to do it? What should I do about wheels? I was OK with stealing parts from my son's bike since everything was reversible, but my Hetchins came with 700c wheels and the Centurion had slightly larger 27" wheels, so I assumed I would have to rebuild the Centurion's wheels if I wanted to use them, a less reversible step. I have been thinking about building a set of 700c clincher wheels for my 1960 Bianchi Specialissima as a practical alternative to its sew-up wheels, so maybe I could use the same wheels for both? One barrier to building such wheels is that it is hard to find hubs with the now obsolete 120mm spacing (modern spacing is 130mm). I have my wife's old Gitane, which is basically a throw-away at this point, and thought about stealing the hubs from it. As Eroica California approached this year and I thought what bike I could ride in that, I started down that path. Alas, somewhere during its long and eventful life, the Gitane's rear axle had gotten bent, killing that idea. So that got me looking at the Centurion wheels again. I put the Centurion up on my bike stand and pulled the wheels to look at them. I can neither remember nor imagine why, but I then pulled out the Hetchins frame and put the wheels on it. To my astonishment, I discovered that when Mike, the Hetchins' former owner, had the frame rebuilt, he had it rebuilt for 27" wheels - the Centurion wheels fit perfectly as-is! Doing this also allowed me to test the standover, and I fit over the frame, another encouraging result. I had been forced to make a bunch of rapid decisions in order to go to Eroica, so I took advantage of my brain temporarily being in decision mode, called Veloro Bicycles, and took them the Hetchins frame and the Centurion. At that point, it was two weeks before Eroica, and I briefly wondered if the Hetchins could be put together in time to be my ride for that event, but Gebhard disabused me of that notion. He warned me that he tends to be slow, so having given up on riding the Hetchins for Eroica, I assured him that time didn't matter at all, and thus was a several month long project born.

So how is my resurrected Hetchins? Gebhard's work on the bike was amazing! That said, the Hetchins is what it is and ain't what it ain't, which is true of the Centurion as well. This Hetchins of today is not the 1967 Hetchins I remember (while wearing my rose-colored glasses.) It definitely is not as pretty as it was. The ornate Hetchins decals and the delicate gold pinstriping of the lugs are long gone. Gebhard recommended not putting the head badge back on yet, so that is missing as well. The components from the Centurion are all Japanese copies of Campagnolo parts, and to my eye are of equal or better quality. However, a chain guard on the outside of the front gears and a pie plate (spoke protector) on the inside of the rear gears don't do much for the appearance. So far, I have only ridden it home from the bike shop, a grand total of three to four miles, and I will have more to say about the performance when I have ridden this bike more, but what I have noticed already is that the brakes grab a bit. Can I get new pads for these very unique, very dated brakes? Gebhard warned me that might not be easy. In terms of shifting, modern bikes with their indexed shifting are simply better than the best of the classic drivetrains. That said, the drivetrain from the Centurion is definitely the best of its day, and shifting is not bad. The range of the gears is limited, however. The front gears are OK, 52 and 39 teeth, but the rear cluster is quite narrow, 14 to 24 teeth. The low gear on this bike is hardly lower than my Bianchi Specialissima with its notoriously narrow racer gearing. Even my commuter bike with an internal gear hub has two gears lower than the low gear on the Hetchins. The saddle from the Centurion is mediocre at best.

So that's the bad news, what about the good? To put things into perspective, the point of this whole project was to determine if this bike could be made to fit me. If it could, then it would be worth thinking about putting more money into it to bring it closer to my dream bike. The best thing about the current build of this bike is that the fit is wonderful, so mission accomplished. I can even use the drops (lower part of the handlebars) something that is quite uncomfortable on most of my bikes. Again, I will have a better feel for how good the fit is when I have put a few more miles on the bike (I told Gebhard I wanted to ride it 100 miles before making any decisions) but so far, fit couldn't be better. A lot of what is less than wonderful about the bike is potentially fixable. If I replace the rear 14-24 gears with a 14-32 cluster purchased on EBay, the gear range won't be spectacular, but would match my internal-gear commuter bike and my Bianchi Volpe in the middle front gear, the one I use most of the time. If I replace the rear gears, I can have the ugly pie plate removed at the same time. If I wanted even lower gears, I can replace the front cranks for $200 to have gears as low as any bike I own. I am most definitely replacing the saddle with Brooks B17, even before riding those 100 miles, especially since I can temporarily borrow one from one of my other bikes.

What is the future of this bike? It is way too soon to say, but at present I can imagine a few broad directions I could go. Almost certainly the best use for this bike is a bike to ride at Eroica California. It is a comfortable bike that meets all of Eroica's retro-requirements. The two things to consider fixing for that purpose, assuming I want to ride some of the more challenging rides, is lower gears and perhaps wider tires (for the unpaved sections of road.) Assuming that is the purpose of the Hetchins, here are some possible (non-exclusive) plans for it:

  1. Leave it pretty much as-is. That is Gebhard's recommendation. He is definitely of the "is what is is and ain't what it ain't" school. Attempting to replace the rear gear cluster would probably fit on this path. (Attempting? Gebhard has warned me that one never knows with old derailleurs; what works on paper may not work on the bike.)
  2. Maximize appearance. This would involve undoing what Gebhard has done to get back to a bare frame, which I would ship off to a high end restorer for stripping and repainting and adding back the gold pinstriping, adding replacement Hetchins decals, and putting back the headbadge. At that point, one would need to look with a critical eye at all of the components. Is the chain guard on the front cranks unacceptable? What else needs to be changed? There is no way this Hetchins can be restored to original condition, the motorist who ran a stop sign and ran into it, necessitating a frame repair, made sure of that, but I could make it look pretty while giving it an age-appropriate feel.
  3. Modernize the bike. The first step on this path is to spread the rear triangle on the frame from its current 120mm to a modern 130mm which would allow me to use more available modern components. At that point I would have to decide, do I go for full-modern appearance, or do I want to maintain the appearance of period correct? One example of the hard choices this decision requires is that almost all of the best modern drivetrain components are black as opposed to period correct components which are silver.

So, exciting times ahead! Right now, I am days away from the Art of Survival metric century which I will ride on my Bianchi Volpe, so my Hetchins is sitting sad and alone in the garage. The first opportunity I have after I get back, however, I will take it out on my Alpine ride, 23 miles and 1300 feet of climbing. I know its gears (and my legs) can handle the hills because I recently completed this ride on my Bianchi Specialissima which has about the same gear range. Depending how that ride goes, I will come up with other rides to test this bike. I wonder what I will decide to do with it?

Sunday, March 17, 2019

Rerouting the Peninsula Bikeway

The Peninsula Bikeway with my modifications shown in blue.


[This is the second post in a series. See the first post for background on this one.]

My interest in rides through the flatter neighborhoods on the east* side of the peninsula and thus of this series of blog posts were inspired by a demonstration ride of the preliminary Peninsula Bikeway I attended last September. In this post, I describe how I developed alternatives to the route taken by that preliminary bikeway to make it more to my liking. Do these changes simply reflect the idiosyncratic tastes of a timid old man with too much time on his hands, or do they say something of general interest about the future of the Peninsula Bikeway? What is the purpose of that bikeway anyway? I spent a fair amount of time searching their website for answers that question, and there is a lot to unpack, perhaps even enough for a future post, but for the purposes of this post, I just want to abstract one bit:

"A high-quality bike facility ... [to make] ... possible travel for:
  • work,
  • school,
  • shopping,
  • errands,
  • fun."
I would have added health to that list, but fun will do for the purposes of this post. I am retired, so work is not an issue (nor is school), but it is for my kids, one of whom commutes by bike from Redwood City to Facebook in Menlo Park. Neither the original version of the bikeway nor my modifications will take him all the way there, but in a future post, I will describe how an easy extension will. As for shopping and errands, I shamefully admit I am still doing that by automobile. The why of that would be a whole blog post of its own, and it is something I am trying to fix. But when I think about shopping by bike, once again, the Bikeway will not take me all the way to where I shop, but it does give me ideas for getting there and I hope my suggested modifications adds more ideas to the mix. So we are left with fun. I find my version of the Bikeway more fun than the original, and hope you will agree.

How relevant is the Peninsula Bikeway, does it use the streets cyclists actually prefer? One way to answer that question is to look at the Strava Global Heatmap. To be fair, the Strava dataset is strongly biased towards recreational cyclists, whereas the target demographic for the Peninsula Bikeway is more the transportation cyclist (e.g. bicycle commuter) but with that reservation in mind, what does the Heatmap show? It varies. The roads of the Peninsula Bikeway are never the most popular north-south route in a given area, but over some stretches the the roads of the Peninsula Bikeway are fairly popular, while in others they are barely used at all. In some cases, I agree with Strava Heatmap, in others, I most definitely do not. Another way to look at the question is to ask the cyclists who commute from San Francisco to Google in Mountain View, who have formed a club, SF2G. They go beyond the scope of the Peninsula Bikeway by starting much farther north, but do ride its entire length. What route do they recommend? They recommend seven, three of which are in scope for the Peninsula Bikeway, and none of these overlap with it at all. Next, the Silicon Valley Bicycle Coalition (SVBC) recommends a north-south route that runs through Redwood City, Atherton, and Menlo Park. Again, there is no overlap except at the very end where this route terminates onto the Peninsula Bikeway as it enters Palo Alto. Finally, there were the comments from experienced local cyclists on the demonstration ride which I will refer to below. (Briefly, they agreed with some parts of the bikeway and disagreed with others.) One last point: The SVBC route is different from all the SF2G routes, and all of these show up on Strava Global Heat Map but none dominates it. In summary, there are lots of ways to bike north-south on the peninsula and little consensus as to which is best. I have ridden many parts of the SF2G and SVBC routes, and I personally prefer the customized route described here.

One issue I struggled with while writing this post is that the bikeway I am improving is the "interim bikeway." The final bikeway will apparently not consist of quiet neighborhood streets as the interim bikeway does, but rather travel along less attractive routes, such as El Camino Real, Middlefield Road, or the Caltrain right of way. The Peninsula Bikeway website promises that "the design concept will consider how to improve intersections, driveway crossings, and other features" in order to produce a design that is "safe, comfortable and efficient." Depending on how successfully these goals are met, it is possible that I would prefer this new route to the current interim route, but it is also possible I might continue to prefer the interim route. In any case, it is estimated that it will be ten years before the permanent route is ready, so I think my remapping is not in vain.

The Peninsula Bikeway goes completely across the cities of Redwood City, Atherton, Menlo Park, Palo Alto, and Mountain View in a North-South direction, starting at the northern edge of Redwood City and ending at the southern edge of Mountain View. I will discuss this route city by city.

Redwood City


The Peninsula Bikeway starts in Redwood City where I would have it start and finishes in Redwood City where I would have it finish, but I prefer other streets for almost everything in between. The Peninsula Bikeway jogs back and forth as it goes through Redwood City, ending up on Cleveland Street just before it gets to Jefferson Avenue. Jefferson Avenue is sufficiently busy that I prefer not to cross it without a light, and there is no light at Cleveland Street. The experienced cyclists on the Peninsula demonstration ride threw up their hands in exasperation and asked the ride organizers, "Why not Hudson Street?", so I tried Hudson Street and found it to be much better than the Bikeway route; it even has a bike lane along part of it (which the Peninsula Bikeway route does not), and there is a light at Jefferson and Hudson. My preference becomes even stronger when we reach Highway 84/Woodside Road, which I definitely would not cross without a light. The Bikeway crosses at Hess Road and then jogs east, riding on the very busy Highway 84 for one block before continuing south on Cypress Street. This is barely acceptable heading towards Mountain View, as there is a light at Hess, but unacceptable heading towards Redwood City, as there is no light at Cypress. In contrast, there is a light at Hudson, so again I agree with the experienced cyclists. Shortly thereafter, my route merges back with that of the Bikeway just before it exits Redwood City and enters Atherton.

Atherton


The Peninsula Bikeway does go through Atherton on a previously developed network of bike routes. These bike routes do not feature dedicated bike lanes, merely signs and sharrows. Because none of the streets used continue uninterrupted through Atherton, there is a lot of weaving east to west when one north-south street ends to get to the next. That said, I made no changes in the part of the Peninsula Bikeway that goes through Atherton. It is not so much that I carefully tried other alternatives and decided that the bikeway was the best, it was mostly because, unlike in the case of Redwood City, the experienced cyclists suggested no alternatives, and because I found the route used by the bikeway to be just fine. One alternative I did try is Middlefield Road, mostly because it had been suggested as a possible route for the final bikeway. I found it unpleasantly busy even on the stretch through Atherton that has a bike lane, and I doubt I would ever chose to take Middlefield instead of the bikeway. Another alternative I tried, one perhaps out of scope for the bikeway, is Alameda de las Pulgas. I ride this road regularly when I am out for a workout on my road bike, and when I tested it on my Public city bike, I found that it was not at all too hilly for this bike, though it was a bit hillier than the bikeway. Nine times out of ten, I will chose the bikeway when I am out for an easy ride, but occasionally I will take Alameda for variety.

Menlo Park


The somewhat busy but generally bike friendly street of Valparaiso defines the border between Atherton and Menlo Park, and the bikeway rides that border. The left turn onto Valparaiso can be a little tense, but I have found no better alternative. Once on Valparaiso, the bike lane is excellent, making for a safe and comfortable ride. For no reason I can imagine, the Bikeway does a weird jog just before crossing El Camino, a jog I ignore. Continuing straight seems perfectly comfortable to me, so that is what I do. Other than that, I follow the Bikeway exactly through Menlo Park.

Palo Alto


There is no part of the Palo Alto stretch of the Peninsula Bikeway that I would not be happy to ride, though as I discuss below, I deviate from the posted route to enter Mountain View at a different point than the Bikeway does. The first part of the Peninsula Bikeway goes along the Ellen Fletcher Bicycle Boulevard, which goes down Briant Avenue. With the irrelevant exception of a half a block of bike lane at the beginning of downtown, riding Briant Avenue mostly means riding with traffic protected only by signage. Downtown Palo Alto has more the feel of a small town than a city, but there is more that enough traffic even so. At first, I found this street intimidating, but it works better than I had expected. I think part of that is that drivers have become accustomed to heavy bicycle traffic on this road, and simply have learned to deal with it, but another thing that has been done is to prevent cars from using it as a through street by providing barriers to cars which bicycles can pass through, reducing automobile traffic. There are about half a dozen of these over this part of the Bikeway. Bottom line, I really enjoy cycling on Briant Avenue. The Peninsula Bikeway leaves Briant Street and the Ellen Fletcher Bicycle Boulevard and takes a right turn on West Meadow Drive and then a left turn on Wilkie Street. The goal of this jog is to get onto California Street once you enter Mountain View, which I find unrideable, as is discussed below. So, rather than take that right turn onto Meadow, I continue on the Ellen Fletcher Bicycle Boulevard by continuing straight on Briant Street. Between Meadow and the border with Mountain View, this bike boulevard wanders over a number of residential streets, making it less than trivial to follow. It is fairly well marked, but even so, I often end up missing a turn and having to retrace my path. Shortly after crossing into Mountain View, this becomes the Mayfield-Whisman Bike Boulevard.

Mountain View



I don't like the route the Peninsula Bikeway picked through Mountain View, and a lot of my efforts have been devoted to finding a route through Mountain View that I do like. Most of the Peninsula Bikeway through Mountain View goes along California Street. The one time I tried to follow the Peninsula Bikeway route, I found California so uncomfortable that I turned east onto Shoreline Drive and came home on the Mayfield-Whisman Bike Boulevard (described below.) This is in spite of the fact that California Street has a bike lane. The problem is that it is very busy and is lined with shopping centers so there is a lot of traffic crossing the bike lane, making it feel very unsafe, to the extent that I vowed never to ride it again. I had to find an alternative.

One of the discussions I had with the city staffers during the Peninsula Bikeway demonstration ride was about the differences between the cities involved in developing the bikeway. One example of such was that Mountain View favored Middlefield road as the main north-south bike corridor, whereas Palo Alto favored Briant Street, so I thought it made sense to try Middlefield as an alternative. When I rode it, I did not like it either. It had many of the same problems as California Street, so much so that I was unwilling to follow it to the end. I turned west onto the Stephens Creek Hike and Bike trail and again took the Mayfield Whisman Bike Boulevard home.

If I keep taking the Mayfield Whisman Bike Boulevard home, why not make that my route? In fact, I have. This Bike Boulevard is like the Peninsula Bikeway routes through Atherton and Palo Alto, there are no bike lanes, but traffic is light so I find the route very comfortable. The only problem with Mayfield-Whisman Bike Boulevard as an alternative to the Peninsula Bikeway is that has its southern terminus at the Stephens Creek hike and bike trail some distance from the southern border of Mountain View, the end point of the Peninsula Bikeway, and I felt I had to respond to the challenge of making all the way to that border. To that end, I took the Stephens Creek trail to its western end. At that point, there is only a couple of blocks on comfortable neighborhood streets to the southern border of Mountain View, which I rode. Mission Accomplished.

Summary


My modified version of the Peninsula Bikeway has become a go-to ride for me. If I ride the whole thing out and back, it is over 30 miles, a worthwhile addition to my training schedule, and it is a very pleasant ride. It also provides for a variety of attractive variations, a topic to which I expect to return in future posts.



* The San Francisco Bay Peninsula is at about a 30 degree angle northwest to southeast, but for simplicity's sake, I will refer to the ocean side of the Peninsula as the west side, the bay side as the east side, heading toward San Francisco as going north, and heading towards San Jose as going south.

Saturday, March 2, 2019

Exploring the Plains of the Peninsula: Preliminaries

A Portion of the San Francisco Bay Peninsula. San Francisco and the entry to the bay is off the top of the picture. The blue to the left is the Pacific Ocean, that to the right is San Francisco Bay. Terrain View was turned on in Google Maps to show the hilly vs the flat parts of the Peninsula. I start many of my rides at the blue dot near the center of the picture and ride south. If I go through Portola Valley (bottom center of the picture), Woodside, and Emerald Hills, as I do for my "GoTo" ride, I have a strenuous, hilly ride. This post is about some easier, flatter rides I have been doing that go through Atherton, Menlo Park, Palo Alto, and Mountain View (in the lower right corner of the picture.)

 

Background


A while back, I posted that I had "...started exploring routes through the beautiful neighborhoods on the eastern flats of the Peninsula." This post goes into that exploration in more detail. The inspiration for this exploration was the demonstration ride of the interim Peninsula Bikeway I went on last September. What I learned from that ride was that there were delightful neighborhood streets through the flat parts on the bay side of the Peninsula that are worth riding. That demonstration was actually organized was as two rides, one coming from the southern end of the route, the other (which I rode) from the northern end, with both groups meeting in the middle, in Menlo Park. So one inspiration for exploring this region a bit more was to try out the southern end of the route, which I had not ridden in the demo. Another was to see if I could find better roads than those identified by the city governments when putting together this interim route. I suspected this was an option because some of the experienced riders on the demonstration ride asked pointed questions about route choices, suggesting alternatives they liked better. A third was to explore some destinations beyond those reached by the Peninsula Bikeway. This was originally planned as a series of three posts, which, despite my general policy of posting monthly, I planned to post over three successive weeks. Posts one and two, this one presenting background material and the next one on how I would remap the interim Peninsula Bikeway, are on track, but as I have been developing post three, about extensions to the Bikeway, it is not clear that it is a stand-alone post. Perhaps its contents can best be presented as parts of other posts over the next several months, or perhaps it will appear as originally planned two weeks from now. Stay tuned to find out.

Coordinates


If you look at the picture above, you will note that the part of the San Francisco Bay peninsula where I live angles from northwest (San Mateo) to southeast (Mountain View) with the San Francisco Bay on the right and the Pacific Ocean on the left. Most of the roads on the Peninsula run either parallel or perpendicular to the peninsula. For convenience, I will ignore the angle and refer to heading towards San Mateo as going "north", towards Mountain View as going "south", as heading towards the Bay as going "east" and as heading towards the Ocean as heading "west".

Criteria for a Better Route


What makes for a better route? It depends on the rider and the reason for the ride. A brave young commuter might look for a fast, direct route to work. As a nervous old man riding for fun and exercise, I look for pretty scenery, low traffic, dedicated bike lanes, and anything else that leads to a fun, safe experience. What this post will be about is finding the safest and most pleasant roads that allow me to ride this part of the Peninsula.

So is the idea to string together as many dedicated bike lanes as possible? Actually, no. As it happens, dedicated bike lanes tend to be on busier streets, and that busyness can outweigh the advantage of the bike lane. Also, bike lanes come in many different qualities. I could (and might) do an entire post on what makes bike lanes more or less useful, but very briefly, they can be divided into properties of the lanes themselves, their width, surface quality, and how they handle intersections, and properties of the road of which they are a part. The aforementioned busyness is one such property, but so are speed limits, the number of intersections, and amount of traffic which crosses the bike lane. Bike lanes on roads like the section of Middlefield Road which goes through Mountain View contain many strip malls, with lots of traffic into and out of the mall crossing the bike lane and making it unsafe. Junipero Serra Boulevard is at least as busy and much faster than Middlefield Road (the speed limit is 45 mph) but is almost controlled access. Although it goes by strip malls, there is no access to these malls from Junipero Serra, access to the malls is from a parallel street, so there is much less traffic crossing the bike lane. As a result, I vastly prefer riding the bike lane on Junipero Serra to that on Middlefield, and in fact prefer lightly travelled residential streets with no bike infrastructure at all to the bike lanes of Middlefield.

In the end, although I can explain my preferences for one route over another after the fact, my ability to predict the best route is weak at best. I find that I simply have to try promising-looking routes to discover the ones I prefer.

Bikes


One more important factor in this exploration is my choice of bikes. Mostly, I ride road bikes, my classic 1960 Bianchi Specialissima, my Surly Cross Check, and the road bike I use most often these days, my Bianchi Volpe. The Volpe has the lowest gears of all my bikes due to its 28/38/48 tooth triple chainwheels in front and its 11-32 cogs in the back. When I am tackling some of the steeper climbs in the region, Kings Mountain for example, I really appreciate its bottom 24 inch gear, but when I am riding my GoTo ride, I leave the chain in the middle 38 tooth chainwheel which provides an adequate range of gears for this ride, 32 to 93 inches. When my wife died, I originally tried to find a good home for her commuter bike, a step-through frame Public bike with a 7 speed internal gear hub. I failed to do so before the move to California, so brought it with me, and found that if I raised the seat and scooted it all the way back and raised the handlebars, it actually fit me pretty well. I replaced the seat with which it came with a Brooks Cambium C19, and the result was a bike I am enjoying very much, and it has become my choice for my exploration of the Plains of the Peninsula. The synthetic Cambium is harder than my favorite saddle, the leather Brooks B17 I have on my road bikes, but I have gotten used to it and overall, find this bike extremely comfortable for rides up to 35 miles. (I have yet to try it on longer rides, but my experience so far suggests 35 miles may be no where near its limit.) Even on these flat rides, there are hills. In particular, my home is on a hill so there is an inevitable steep climb for the last few blocks of any ride I do. A concern I had about the Public bike is that, because it had an internal gear hub, it might not have an adequate range of gears. However, when I sat down and figured out what its gears actually were, the low gear on the Public bike is 33 inches, virtually identical to the 32 inches low gear on my Volpe when I am using only the middle chainring. That is not the whole story, the fact that the Public bike has me sitting upright compared to the Volpe's traditional road bike posture means that I have less power climbing on the Public bike even at the same gear ratio, but even so, the Public bike has gears more than adequate for any of the flat rides I want to do. Due to the higher wind resistance of that upright posture, it is a slower bike, about 2 mph slower than my road bikes, but who cares when I am out for fun and exercise?

So what is the attraction of the Public bike? First, the upright posture makes it easier for me to look around and appreciate the neighborhoods through which I am riding. Second, there is no changing into bike clothes, which makes rides less of a production. Also, I find it a bit easier to stay warm in normal clothes. Third, because of the Brooks Cambium seat, fenders, and internal gear hub, rain is just not a problem on this bike. Between the lower traffic roads I have selected, the lack of hills, and the fact that the Public bike is more comfortable, an easy ride on this comfortable bike is great when my motivation is a bit low.

Resources


Why am I doing this exploration on my own? Aren't there guides to tell me what the best routes are? Actually, there are lots of great resources out there, and I use all that I can find, but at the end of the day, I find my preference in roads is different than anyone else's, so that there is no substitute for exploring possible routes on my own. Still, I always start with these resources.
  • Google Maps is almost always the resource I go to first. Besides its basic mapping function which is essential planning a ride, if I turn on the Bicycling option, I get excellent (if not perfect) information as to where the bike lanes are, and Google's recommendations for "Bicycle Friendly Roads", though problematic are not worthless.
  • On principle, I want to love Open Cycle Maps, an open source resource built on Open Street Map. However, I almost never find it useful. The one thing it has that Google Maps lacks is "official" bike routes. For example, the interim Peninsula bikeway is marked on Open Cycle Maps but not on Google Maps. That said, I cannot think when I have ever found this helpful. I keep returning to Open Cycle Maps hoping my love for it will grow, but so far, it hasn't.
  • Also based on Open Street Maps is Google Map Pedometer (its name notwithstanding.) Its primary function is to plan out routes; lay out your route on this resource and you get back the mileage and elevation change. It has one additional critical feature, however, and that is it shows stoplights! When I am trying to plan a route that only crosses busy streets like El Camino at a stop light, by zooming in on any intersection, I can tell if there is a light there.
  • What is it that I want from Open Cycle Maps that it lacks? A crowd-sourced compendium of what roads cyclists prefer. Guess who has that? Strava, in their Global Heatmap! This is absurdly cool, but still, I find it more fun than useful. More often that not, I look at the bright red lines of cyclist-favored roads and think "Are these people crazy? That road is much too dangerous!" There are three things missing that prevent this from being the resource I am looking for. First, it is just a counting of where cyclists have happened to go. Thus, regions with high populations and lots of cyclists will have brighter lines for worse roads than regions with lower populations and fewer cyclists. Second, there is no option for feedback. Maybe there is no great road from San Carlos to Facebook, but folks commuting by bicycle do the best they can, taking their chances on uncomfortable roads. If they had the opportunity to rate these routes, that would provide essential information now missing. Third, all riders are lumped together. As I noted at the beginning of this post, different riders are looking for different things. I can think of a variety of ways of stratifying riders that would be helpful.
  • Finally, there are curated lists of good biking routes. There are many local organizations that map their favorite rides, here are just a few:
    • Given how this whole project started, I have to begin with the Peninsula Bikeway Website.
    • The Stanford Bike Club has an excellent list of local rides. I developed my GoTo ride from information on this list. That said, this resource is better for strenuous rides through the hills than it is for the flatter rides I am looking at here.
    • SF2G stands for San Francisco To Google, and started as a group of bike commuters who worked at Google in Mountain View and lived in San Francisco. (This is a 2-plus hour commute, each way!) They have developed several highly optimized and creative routes for this commute and are an invaluable resource for biking north-south on the Peninsula. Of all the ride lists I have come across, this one is the most directly relevant to this post.

Next Time


With the preliminaries out of the way, I will describe how I have modified the Peninsula Bikeway route to suite my preferences in my next post.