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cycling / Monday / photo / podcast / video — Comments Off
27
Apr 20

There’s a podcast and a botched bike ride and some pics

And how was your weekend? Did you know you just had one of those? We’re all making that joke, now. It’s starting to work its way into television commercials, which is how you know the zeitgeist approves of the usage. But we should also remember that not everyone is in the same at-home condition. And there’s a lot of variance in the stay-at-home concept, of course. And some people don’t have a traditional weekend on Saturdays and Sundays. But you can’t address all of those in one joke, for punchline purposes. You really can’t do it in a small talk shorthand. And you definitely shouldn’t start a long post with it either.

That’s what I learned this weekend.

The cats had a fine time of it. Phoebe at dinner time:

And here’s Poseidon enjoying an afternoon lounging in the sunshine.

And speaking of Poseidon, here’s a cat video:

He never does catch the light. If you sit with that for a few minutes you can make a terrific story. And then you begin to wonder: do cats have revenge stories because of the things we write in our heads, or do we write those tales because cats just fundamentally have revenge on their minds?

Today the cat – light story is about a creature watching a flattened version of a Big Bang. It could be that he has no idea of understanding what he’s seeing. Or maybe he knows precisely what he’s seeing. Maybe that’s where the wonder is.

We could all use a little more wonder these days.

It was a chamber of commerce kind of yesterday, and so we went for a walk in the afternoon.

The flowers I fell for.

No, really, I fell. That was going to be how I started this post, but that sounds scary, and I’m fine. Jammed my shoulder up a little bit. It aches today and it’ll be sore for another day or two and it’ll be fine, I promise.

It was quick trip. The mud slipped out from underfoot and I stuck my arm out, thinking at the last moment I should tuck instead. So I did that, but not completely enough. Mostly it just hurt my pride and got my clothes dirty. So, yeah, I shot a video because if you suffer you should make some art out of it, or something.

That was all the weekend.

Today, I published this conversation with IU’s vice president for research, Fred Cate.

It was fascinating, I asked him to touch on all these different kinds of research, covering a big handful of disciplines from multiple schools on two or three campuses and he got them all. He’s really good at giving overviews. And there’s some great quotes in there. I like the one near the end, about how you’d be hard pressed to find some slice of life in the state (and beyond) not being touched by IU’s coronavirus research. It’s impactful.

I want to talk about all of them.

The view of the sky from just before our bike ride:

It was a weirdly frustrating ride all the way around. But the important thing is that today was hill repeats. Which means finding a hill and going up it over and over again. It makes you a stronger climber and, brother, I need that.

The really important thing is that today hill repeats meant going up the hill just four times before I had another flat. Allow me to visualize this for you:

That’s four flats in the last two weeks, and under Gatorskins, too. Gatorskins being an ultra tough tire meant to protect the fragile little inner tubes. So me and the Gators and the Mavic rims are going to have a long talk tomorrow, because this is getting expensive.

Have a great start to your week, which may or may not be well underway, or even great. But if it ain’t, do try to make it so.

adventures / cycling / Friday / photo / video — Comments Off
24
Apr 20

Riding into the weekend, and then walking into it

For reasons I’m beginning to understand only a bit, and am not quite yet equipped (or perhaps inspired, or both) to remedy, the videos I shoot on my phone look like compressed garbage when I upload them. What is this, 2012?

Anyway, here’s a little bit of today’s cross-county-line ride. Before the turnaround, and well before today’s flat. So sick of flats.

This, too, was before the flat. Good thing, as this was well away from the house. But you aren’t thinking about any of that when you see turkeys:

Anyway, just before getting back to the house I had another flat. It was on the last big downhill which, in my experience, is the wrong place to have your rear wheel to go down. At the bottom of the hill is a hard turn that leads up into our neighborhood. But I stopped short and figured, ehhh, I’m walking this in.

Because I could try to re-inflate the tube, or swap out to an extra one, right there on the side of the road — like I did just four rides ago! — or I could just walk the last mile in and do all of that in the comfort of my bike room or home-library.

So I walked it in. Problem: bike shoes. So you take those off and walk it in feeling a little ridiculous: spandex, helmet, walking a bike and barefoot. At some point you have to figure the people in your neighborhood, to the extent that they notice you, are just used to it.

Bobet, I hope so.

Anyway, you could be mad at flats, or pleased with the opportunity. If my tire hadn’t gone down I would have whizzed right through here at 20-some miles per hour and not even noticed this redbud tree (Cercis canadensis) demonstrating its cauliflory.

It’s a trait some species exhibit, where blooms can grow directly out of the trunk. Cauliflory, by the way, is ‘stem flower’ in Latin.

And, yes, I looked up the scientific name. There’s only so much stuff I can keep in my head, after all.

Also on the walk back … and this is just after The Yankee got to the house, put her things away and walked back out toward me with my sneakers. Which was great, because half-a-mile barefoot is quite enough, thanks. Anyway, we walked it in together, which was also nice, and we saw this:

And that’s how the weekend begins. I hope yours begins with pretty things and nice gestures, and fewer mechanical issues.

cycling / journalism / Monday / photo / podcast — Comments Off
20
Apr 20

Some walks, a bike ride, a podcast, some cats

And your weekend? Was it functionally much different than your week? Unless, of course, you’re going into work still, in which case I apologize for the joke. But that’s all we can do with it, is joke and laugh, and then work from home or wish we could, or, in far too many sad cases, wish we could work from somewhere.

I get to work from home. I’m very fortunate indeed. And not a day goes by that I don’t spend a lot of time thinking of that. I do it a lot more than during the walk from bedroom to kitchen to home office, too.

One of the things I got to do today for work was this little program …

Elizabeth Malatestinic teaches human resource management in the Kelley School of Business at IUPUI. So she’s the one that onboards. I don’t know if she’s the person who came up with that term. It seems unlikely, but I didn’t think to ask. Anyway, she does HR, and we discussed what we should be able to expect from our bosses, what they can get out of us right now, managing the work-at-home dynamic and some other things. It actually is an interesting and useful conversation. But you’re only going to know that if you take my word for it and press the play button.

Press the play button.

On Topic with IU · On Topic with IU: Human Resource Management professor Elizabeth Malatestinic

Did you press the play button yet?

The cats are grand. Phoebe is studying yoga:

She has since decided to give it a try. She does it with a sense of panache that can inspire us all:

Poseidon has been studying yoga as well. Less interested, but nevertheless:

He’s a nice cat, when he’s being cuddly, and not a jerk to someone.

That cat is going through toddlerhood and adolescence simultaneously, and he’s going to be doing it for the rest of time, which is definitely something to look forward to.

On a walk yesterday we passed some carefully planted roadside trees and it reminded me of how I always make the same disappointed joke every year about maples being nature’s first quitters. It’s true. They are. It is disappointing, and then brilliant, and then just sad like all of the rest. But give the maples their due: They are some of the first ones back on the job, too.

Which is part of the twisted logic of acceptance: Oh, look at the beautiful early leaves! … As we approach the last week of April …

I am showing off the mask a friend made for me. She is crafty and has skills and a desire to help others and even me and I am very fortunate, plus it matches my eyes:

And a shadow selfie from today’s ride, which was notable only for the hill repeats.

You’re supposed to go up a hill for several minutes, descend and then start over again. Only I manage to do it based on the distance, because looking for that quirky tree or, like today, the discarded mattress on the side of the road is easier than staring at my bike computer. So looking at the data now, I went longer the first time, a bit shorter the second time, and then faster the next four times before slowing down for the next several climbs. Hey, it’s all slow and uphill to me. Also, I had negative splits on the back of the ride, which better be the case after 45 minutes or so of going uphill.

At one point this car was coming from the other direction right at the place where I was turning around. The hill continues on, so I have to keep riding, waiting for the car to pass so I can try to do a 180 at a suboptimal speed. Except this guy slows, rolls down his window and says “Steep ain’t it!?”

Hadn’t noticed, neighbor. Hadn’t noticed.

cycling / Friday / IU / photo / podcast — Comments Off
10
Apr 20

Why have one when you can have two

Here we are on a nice, hard, slow, windy ride.

Or, for at least my part of it, it was slow. There was nothing to the route. It was one of our most standard courses. I just couldn’t build anything up today. Three days of legs and my legs, I told myself, were exhausted. And before I get too far into this story …

Dr. Joel Wong is the chair of the counseling and educational psychology department in IU’s School of Education. We had a delightful conversation on gratitude, and things to try to keep yourself in good spirits and keep the morale up on the home front.

It’s an interview I wish I could have recorded three weeks ago, but it’s one valuable in all seasons. So give it a listen. And head on over to your favorite podcast provider and subscribe to “On Topic with IU.” You can now find the show on Apple, Google, Stitcher, Spotify, TuneIn and Anchor.

Back to the bike: it was kinda breezy. It wasn’t a headwind-in-every-direction day, but it was a headwind-from-several-nonsensical-directions sort of day. And, look! Here is today’s barn by bike:

We ride by there frequently. The sun is almost always in that same spot behind the building. I should ride by, on some far off day when it gets warm here, in the morning, just to see a little more detail on the east-facing side of the barn. It’s in a nice location. The gentle fields in front and back are always just grass. It never seems like much of a pasture. There are houses close by on both sides. I wonder what they use the outbuilding for.

We pedaled down to the lake, and there’s a turnaround down there, which meant I finally saw The Yankee again, since she was well ahead of me, because I was moving slow. She met me going the other direction and she met me much sooner than I’d hoped. I am sure it showed in my body language. She didn’t go all the way to the lake, she said, but turned short of it at another prominent spot. So I continued on, and I decided to make the trip the whole way down. This meant riding past a colleague’s house, and so I call out his name as I do every time I go by, just to amuse myself. And then there’s the last big left hand curve and you get to the turnaround.

I turned around, and in that same big curve away from it, my bike started wobbling. So I stopped in a safe spot — right in the turn — to check things out. Oh, my back tire is getting low. I carry a small hand pump for just such an occasion! Pump it up a bit, send a note that I’ll be noodling, even slower, on the way back in (on account of my tire) and set out once more.

And I made it about 250 yards or so. Bike wobbles again. Tire completely flat.

So there I am, in the cold and not-quite-dying light, standing in some nice people’s yard, hoping they don’t come out to ask too many questions of me as I change the tube. I had just one extra tube in my little bike bag. So, lever off the tire, pull out the old tube, pump it a bit to see if the tube has any chance of being nursed back to the house. It does not. On goes the new tube.

And now a word about tube sizes. I normally ride a 700 x 23-25 tube. Standard stuff. The 700 is a notation about the wheel’s diameter. The second number has to do with the width of the tube, in millimeters. My extra was a 700 by 18, for some reason. Now, that’s just five or six millimeters, you say. And, sure enough, you’re basically correct! But that’s also reducing the size by about a third! So this is going to be small, inside the wheel’s rim and the tire. Why did I even buy a tube that size? The other issue is that my hand pump doesn’t generate enough pressure to really fill it. So I’m going to be riding on a too-small tube for some reason, at a drastically reduced PSI. But it’ll get the job done, which is the point. I’ll go slow, not a problem today. First I just have to get out of these people’s yard with enough daylight to steer by.

There was plenty of light. I just happened to be standing beneath a tree line. And it was chilly. Here’s my “I can’t believe I’m still wearing jackets in mid-April” shadow self-portrait to prove it:

I’m not wearing those sleeves because it’s such a breathable piece of kit.

The next issue I’m considering while also appreciating the art and the majesty of vulcanized rubber on industrialized aluminum: topography. There’s one significant little hill to get down on my route back to the house, which is about 5.6 miles away from my tube change. It requires speed or braking, or both, because at the perfect bottom of the hill there is a 135-degree turn back to the right. It’s easily manageable when your bike is behaving up to par, and only a concern if there’s a lot of traffic. Traffic isn’t a problem lately, but this tire and tube thing means I won’t be riding at full ability just now.

So I must plan a different route. One with no hills because I, for a change, want to avoid any zippy little descents. Only there’s no such direct, and flat, route of which I am aware. So I went an indirect way, negotiated one little downhill (easily, as it turns out, with some help with the USPS guy who patiently held a few cars behind him without knowing the sort of favor he did for me) and added a few extra miles, which is fine. I need the miles anyway. Grateful for those. Miles are miles, but I’d prefer them under ideal circumstance and not, as I later learned, at 40 PSI on my back tire. I usually ride my tires at 110 PSI. So that’s why it wobbled constantly, I was floating on spongey, foamy rubber and not riding a rock hard ridge.

I know it was 40 PSI because I inflated the tube with a floor pump that has a gauge on it. I went back out to ride the neighborhood road to see if that solved the floaty, bumpy sensation I’d been feeling or if I’d inadvertently damaged the wheel. And that second tube promptly exploded. POP! A crisp firecracker going off a few feet from your ear.

So I’ll go buy more tubes tomorrow. That’s something I’ll be grateful for, too, Dr. Wong.

More on Twitter, check me out on Instagram. There are more On Topic with IU podcasts. There’s a website for it, too, and you can follow it on Twitter and Facebook. For my slightly more hobbyist shows, head on over to Podbean.

cycling / photo / Wednesday — Comments Off
8
Apr 20

Hills and hills and hills and hills

Today, she said, she was going to do hill repeats. I don’t have to do them, and I don’t get judged when I beg off of something, but she asked her coach to give her some hill repeats and it was a warm day and it was time for a ride.

A hill repeat is just that. You find a hill and ride up it over and over again. Or, in today’s case, you do it 10 times. Ten times up one hill. Except the hill she wanted to climb was flooded. I’ll wait for you here to figure out how that particular topography works.

So we went up another hill, which featured ascents of 10 to 13 degrees, which is not unsubstantial. We climbed up two minutes, turned around, descended, and climbed back up two minutes again. Happily, the place where I turned around was the same spot each time. So I didn’t get more tired on the seventh, eighth or ninth repetition. I was just slow on each of them.

We had 10 hills to climb, and I felt that I could climb that joker the ninth time, keep on going, finish the rest of the hill and call it 10. But that is not what we did.

We turned around, went by that barn and made our escape by climb up an even steeper hill. There was a section with a 15-degree ascent and the hardest parts continued burning my tired legs for about half a mile. After that it was just a regular little road, and we were finally going fast-ish. When the road joined another, which was our route home, we ran across a cyclist we know. Maarten is a national-caliber triathlete and we decided we would try to catch him. We cut into his lead, but we were going from a dead stop, joining his road and he was already underway and, this part is important, he’s a national-caliber triathlete.

Later in the evening we learned that our hill repeats and all those very steep inclines might have been ambitious. The Yankee’s coach says he had something else in mind, really. He knows the roads, of course, and can see the data. He was thinking more like that road where we tried to chase down Maarten. I just looked at the profile for that segment. It tops out at 5.7 percent which, after six miles uphill felt like a launch pad.

Oh well, next time then.

This evening’s storms brought a lot of rain and wind. At one point the power browned out, came back, browned out, came back and then it finally just gave up. My solar lights experiment got their first real trial!

I picked up a few of these at the hardware store for about five bucks a few months back. I keep them on a windowsill. The days are so long now that they store a fair amount of light, even like that. And, if the power goes out and we need light most of the day and some of the night is already over anyway. These should provide enough light to wrap something up, go upstairs, whatever.

Tonight, we used them to find our flashlights, or as I like to think of them, the metal cases holding our dead batteries. So we loaded up fresh batteries in all of the flashlights by the bright LEDs of the solar lamps.

And just as we finished that chore the power came back on. Soon after the storms moved on and our power stayed stable. Our trip on the Oregon Trail, then, was a short one tonight. But we were fortunate. Some people have been out for a good long while now.

Because they needed a new kind of challenge, I guess. My challenge this evening was simply getting up the stairs. Those hills …