cycling


27
Jul 22

I am a spokes-person

This evening we had a one-hour training ride. I sprinted up the first little hill as I always do, and … that was it. My legs and my lungs lost interest for the next several miles. About five of them, to be precise. The Yankee got ahead of me, and I rallied over the next 15 miles. I (truly and sincerely) rode as fast as I’ve ever ridden a half-hour.

I could not catch her wheel. Could not bridge the gap. Couldn’t even keep her in sight.

This is just after a turn around point in the route. She had turned and I was approaching the turn. The timing suggested I wasn’t far behind, which was good, because I already had it figured.

#GoRenGo

There were two little sections of the return route where I would have a chance to catch back up. Two roads that suit my ride a little more than hers.

If I couldn’t do it in one of those two places my only chance was if she got caught in traffic — people here aren’t especially good at intersections and they absolutely freeze up when you add a cyclist into the mix.

Have you ever had this sensation? Your bike feels like it’s floating over everything. Not la volupté, but the sense that your tires are about a quarter inch off the road, when your bike is anticipating the bumps and cracks and turns. Ever felt that? Your legs feel like they are behind you and charging, rather than beneath you driving. Have you ever experienced that? I get it once, maybe twice a year. I assume it is because I’m having a day of nice form. The numbers supported that hypothesis a bit today, as this became one of those days. I was impressed by my splits, but I was still not fast enough.

So watch out, USA Triathlon National Championships. She’s coming for you. And she’ll be fast.

Then she did a one-mile run. (Because I am not training for the national triathlon championships, I got to stay inside.)


22
Jul 22

Big bicycle ads

We’ve come to this, filling slow July Fridays with newspaper copy of old. And advertisements! Don’t forget the advertisements! The real wonder and whimsy of newsprint are in the ads. And for the old ones, that means clip art. Clip art gets dismissed, but clip art should be celebrated. For this effort I’ve searched the word “bicycling” in the digitized newspapers of three states — Alabama, Connecticut and Indiana — for the year 1922. These are the 10 best returns from the bunch. Some of them are wonderful.

“Bicycling is the ideal exercise for women and young girls.”

This ad was in the August 3, 1922 edition of the Montgomery Times. That paper is hard to pin down. There was more than one publication with that name over the course of 150 years or so, and the peculiar way mergers are observed in the news business are always tricky, too.

Similarly, Rambler and America Bicycles would merge before going defunct. Rambler, though, was started by Thomas Jeffery, an Englishman who emigrated to Chicago. He was one of the inventors of the clincher tire/rim (still stopping strong!) and sold out to … make cars.

Klein, the national brand anyway, was in the marketplace until the 1960s, at least.

Meanwhile, in April of 1922, this ad was published in The Huntsville Times, which is still publishing, sorta, today. The magic tonic, this ad says.

Dayton bikes were manufactured by Huffman, which sounds familiar in the bike world. That story goes back to the 1880s, when George Huffman bought a sewing machine company and then moved it from New York to Dayton, Ohio. The first Dayton bike dates to 1892. George’s son, Horace M. Huffman, Sr., later founded Huffman Manufacturing Company and they made Daytons until 1949. They made high-end bikes, invented training wheels and, later launched the popular Huffy brand in the 1950s.

There’s nothing at that address now, assuming the roads and numbering systems are the same a century on, but there is a spin shop nearby today.

Back down to Montgomery, then, where the Montgomery Advertiser (today the largest daily in the state) published this great clip art in the state capital in October of 1922. Obviously, Klein was a big believer in print advertising. (That’s an Oswald joke.)

Have just as much or more fun! Try it and prove it.

This clip art was used a few times that year for Klein ads around the country. I’ve cleaned it up a bit, but a dirty newsprint and a hasty scan make it look like this little trio is escaping a devastating fire behind them.

Mostly I’m excited to see the cartoon women in the advertisements. Bikes were a big equalizer, socially speaking, and you see it in the retail spots.

Let’s go to Connecticut, and visit the New Britain Herald, and check out this Christmas ad from 1922. The Herald was opened in 1880, and is still in operation today.

Make my Christmas gift an Indiana bicycle! (They were works of art, Dad!)

Hadfield Swenson made planes and motors, dating back to at least 1916. They closed earlier in 1922, which is why Charles E. Hadfield lists himself as the successor. He’d previously tried his hand at car accessories. There’s a bank at that location today.

There seem to be a lot of Hadfields in that area still, but the web doesn’t know a lot about what came next for Charles E.

Look at this beautiful, happy woman. “I will miss you while I am off having fun on my bicycle!”

The power of bikes:

As it became safer and less expensive to own, the bicycle became the mainstream transportation tool for everyday use. For women, it also gave them newfound freedom of movement.

The previous generation of Victorian women were culturally expected to stay at home. Idealized for virtues such as domesticity and motherhood, the Victorian woman’s role kept her away from public life. The bicycle afforded women an accepted way to be outside as part of society including when it came to business and politics. Through simple mobility, the bicycle also helped to accelerate many women’s rights.

The departure coaster brake was the one many of us experienced as a kid. Need to stop? Pedal backward. This was in an April 1922 edition of The Hartford Courant — started as a weekly in 1764, a daily since 1837 and, today the largest in Connecticut. The ad was the centerpiece of one side of a double-truck spread marking national bicycle week, in the Sunday edition.

Opposite that advertisement in The Hartford Courant is this amazing graphic.

Ride a bicycle!

I think I will, tomorrow morning!

Other brilliant art from this special will be saved for a later date.

This bit of copy is from the Evansville Press, in Indiana, in May of 1922. I’m all but certain that it is a delightful bit of fiction.

That’s old-fashioned!

This, you see, was about 15 or 25 years after the first real cycling craze in the United States. And a lot of the writing about bikes around this time in the early 1920s was devoted to pointing out that bike sellers were moving more frames now than they were in recent years. It isn’t just for kids anymore, seems to be part of the selling point.

But that pretend city editor definitely needs a tandem.

Also from the Evansville paper, where they were still thinking about the flu, I guess. Why squeeze in with the germs?

Koch is still a big name in Evansville, of course. They stayed at that Third and Pennsylvania location until 1962.

Still in Evansville, the home of H.H. Shaffer.

There’s an apartment complex there now, if I have the correct street. He’d been advertising in the paper for several years. In 1929 he died at home at 46 years of age. I don’t believe I’ve ever heard of the Rayo bicycles. brand, but yet I’m hardly an expert in this area. (Or any area, really.) I can use an inflation calculator, however. The $30 quoted in that ad would apparently be equivalent to about $529.13 today (modern inflation notwithstanding).

And we’ll wrap this up in Muncie, Indiana, because what could top Muncie? This bit of copy is from the Muncie Evening Press, which started in about 1880, and was part of a two-paper daily town until 1996. This was the end of a copy-and-paste piece slugged “Bicycles are coming back.”

We’ve ridden bikes, as the piece notes, “a legitimate aid to health and sport,” in Muncie. We might do it again one day. I just discovered, after all, the Cardinal Greenway which goes right through the town.

And now, having expected this to be a brief Friday space filler, but somehow having written a thousand-plus words around 10 zealously selected graphics we’ll wrap it up, thusly:

Ride a bicycle!


21
Jul 22

Pogačar and Vingegaard on Spandelles

We’re 18 stages into the Tour de France now. It’ll wrap up in Paris on Sunday, but it was decided today.

Let me set a tiny bit of the stage. Tadej Pogačar, the two-time defending Tour champion, rides for UAE. He won his first Tour championship on the final time trial in a shocking fashion over his countrymen and rival, Primoz Roglic, who rides for Jumbo-Visma.

Primoz left this year’s Tour a few days ago after he suffered, and struggled through, a shoulder dislocation. Which is to say that, on Stage 5, Roglic crashed, put his own shoulder back into place and continued riding for nine more days. One of those days where he suffered and struggled was critical. Roglic and his Jumbo-Visma team laid out a plan to break Pogačar on the Col du Granon in Stage 11. It was powerful, beautiful and the first time in his three Tours de France (or anywhere else, of which I am aware) that Pogačar has been overwhelmed.

On that 11th stage Roglic’s Jumbo-Visma teammate Jonas Vingegaard stormed his way up the Granon climb and claimed the yellow leader’s jersey. For the last week, then, Vingegaard has had a two-minute lead on Pogačar. (Pogačar is now wearing the best young rider’s white jersey. Despite his immense success, he’s only 23 years old.)

Which brings us to today. The Alps are behind them. They’re leaving the Pyrenees. It was Pogačar’s last real chance to reclaim the yellow jersey, and, thus, Vingegaard’s last challenge. Both of their teams have been reduced because of Covid and the attrition brought on by a difficult Tour. And with about 40 kilometers to go, Pogačar began his attacks.

Vingegaard was there for every desperate turn of the pedals. By the penultimate climb, the two of them were alone. On the descent Vingegaard almost crashed in a turn, but he somehow saved a stoppie. Almost immediately after Pogačar overcooked a turn and found himself in a shallow ditch.

He was back on his bike before he came to a halt in the crash, but Vingegaard and his yellow jersey were down the road. Now Pogačar had to storm back. He had to take even more risks on this risky descent. His Tour was slipping away from him.

And then Vingegaard sat up and waited on his rival, allowing Pogačar caught up to the race leader. Here’s the capture.

They played it safe the rest of the way down, their race would wait until the final climb, the legendary hors catégorie Hautacam. There Vingegaard, using the wings provided by the yellow jersey, dropped Pogačar once more, extended his lead to an inevitability.

The Tour has shown us great racing for three weeks, but the image above is the one to remember. It’s a wonderful moment in a Tour that longtime viewers and experts are coming to agree just might be the best ever.


18
Jul 22

Catching up from the weekend

We enjoyed a little bike ride on Saturday morning, trying to beat the heat before the heat beat us. We stopped about 10 miles in to stretch the legs and let the sweat drip, drip, drip onto the cement under a church awning. A man walked by with his dog on a leash. He told the dog, “Do not bark. Do not bark.” And the dog did as he was instructed. He did as he was instructed for as long as he could, and finally he let loose with a deep woof-woof-woof that intimidated me into action. I told the dog I had learned my lesson, and would be on my way. He had saved the day, protected his neighborhood from the outsiders in funny clothes.

The Yankee had already set out to continue her ride, but somehow the dog positioned himself in my route of travel. So I had to wait until the nice gentleman was able to reel him in. He was a very good boy, that dog, and made me leave as soon as possible. I am sure he told everyone about it the rest of the day, for treats and pets and to reassure his people that he was on the job. The sweaty guy dressed funny won’t be back anytime soon. Woof.

Anyway, since she got off ahead of me I had to catch up, which changed the video I was going to make for that ride. But this one is still fun.

I hit 43.7 miles per hour somewhere in here. That’s 70 kilometers, which sounds more impressive — and we’re presently watching the Tour, where everything is in kilometers anyway. So it was a 56 kilometer ride, and I topped out at 70 km. Not bad for a Saturday morning.

Time for the weekly kitty check in. The cats are, happily, doing just fine. And they are, of course, pleased to provide the site’s most popular feature.

Here’s Phoebe hanging out on top of the cat tree.

And here she is, yesterday, sitting in the duffel where we store the massage boots. A little compression therapy for me, a little bag time for her.

Such a character.

And here’s the occasional proof that they do, sometimes get along.

Poseidon is sometimes pretty aggressive and she doesn’t tolerate it very well and it carries over into many of their interactions. This morning she walked up to him and hissed at him for just sitting there. Usually it is the other way around. But sibling rivalries

Poseidon, meantime, works extra hard to be cute and charming, when he’s not being a pill.

He’s just an adventurer at heart. Here he is in the laundry room.

I measured all of this, after I climbed up there and dragged him out. That’s a four-and-a-half foot jump from the top of the washing machine to the top of the cabinet. And the space between that molding and the ceiling is about four inches.

I thought that was pretty agile, even for a cat. Showed that picture to The Yankee and she was not surprised. I complained about having to pull him down from there.

Oh, she said, I just leave him.

So it isn’t the first time he’s made that leap.


15
Jul 22

Down the painful memory lane

Oh, why not? TL;DR: Wear your helmet, kids.

Ten years ago, tomorrow.

Because, 10 years ago, earlier this week.

That’s my left collarbone, in several pieces. Bike crash. Hit something I didn’t see and went over at about 18 miles per hour, landing directly on the point of my shoulder and head.

I’m told this could come out at any time, but I still wear this.

I stayed off the bike, except for the trainer, until January of 2013. Everything hurt too bad and I was foggy, besides. Almost a year later, to the day, I noticed, for the first time, that my shoulder and collarbone weren’t hurting. It was fleeting, but wonderful. I was snorkeling in Bermuda. Guess who was the last person back on the boat that day? As soon as I pulled myself out of the water, though …

I saw a second set of specialists six months after I crashed, because everyone agreed I shouldn’t still be complaining about these things. That doctor was concerned about my neck. He ruled out any damage with an X-ray, but I could have told him that in his exam room. I willed my neck to be fine because, and I was quite adamant about this, there was no way I’d walked around with a broken neck for six months.

A third surgical consult the next year, in August 2013, helped get me sorted out. Things I wrote down about that initial visit:

“Tell me everything. Start at the beginning.”

So we talked about the last year. He tested for nerve damage and said there was none. He tested for rotator cuff problems and said there were none. He touched my hardware and I decided I’m going to pinch, hard, the next person that does that.

He looked at my X-ray and said things look good there.

[…]

Also, this doctor, who is apparently nationally renowned for shoulder surgeries, says I should have been in a sling for six to eight weeks. Had him repeat that.

My surgeon had me out of my immobilizer in a week. (I had to ask. I couldn’t remember. I don’t remember a lot.)

I told the third ortho that if he had a magic wand, but it could only fix one of my problems, I’d ask him to address my shoulder. So after he verified the problems weren’t skeletal he sent me for another long round of specific physical therapy, at a different facility from the first place, and that magic wand worked pretty well.

All told, it took about 18 months, I think.

Ultimately the conclusion was that the surgery was good, but the initial recovery was poorly managed. Now my shoulder rarely bothers me, but my collarbone usually offers me a dull reminder.

This is the helmet I was wearing the day I crashed.

This is the back of the helmet, as seen from above. You’d be wearing this and facing the top of the frame. Note the chunk that the road sheared off, part of that is resting beside the helmet.

helmet

I wonder why I picked up that little piece from the road after I crashed.

Again the back, from straight on. See how the upper left and center of the back was ground away? Note the small cracking at the base of the helmet’s back and that crack on the left side.

helmet

Here’s that left-side damage. Hardly a hairline crack.

helmet

This is a little farther up the side, but still on the left. As you’re wearing the helmet this crack would be directly over the left ear. The fracturing only stops at the air vent. From these pictures we surmise that, without the helmet, the crown of my head over to my ear would have been heavily damaged.

helmet

Finally, looking up into the helmet. That’s one-piece, molded crash foam. Look how much it separated.

helmet

This is probably why there are patches of 2012 that I don’t recall all that well.

Update: Went on a long ride on Saturday. Didn’t think about any of this.