I just rode around Lake Washington on my single speed. “So what, you pussy?” I imagine you are saying. Fair enough. But what if your brother-in-law is keeping the pace at a brisk 24 mph on your Cannondale, hills and all? My knees are numb and my quads feel like jello. I will never go near that Lake again without a derailleur.
By the numbers, 24 mph on my 42×17 single-speed means my cadence was 118 rpm. Sure felt like 200. Kick-ass cadence calculator is here.
I spent Memorial Day weekend in Boise, and on the actual holiday I headed out for a big ride with my brother-in-law. We started at 2800′ elevation, and ended up at the local ski area, Bogus Basin– where the parking lot is a mean 6200′.
It was a great ride, until the skies opened up in a downpour and the temperature dropped to 45F. Sensing disaster (and knowing the nearest brewpub was over 3000′ of vertical away), I did the only sensible thing possible. I walked over to a phone booth alongside the deserted ski lodge, tore out the first 100 pages, and wadded the pages up inside my thin cycling jacket. My brother-in-law raised an eyebrow, and I responded that it’s the closest I’ll ever be to a real Tour experience. I like to think his hypothermic convulsions were much more severe than mine during the decent, but that’s pretty subjective.
May 30th, 2008 | cycling | 2 comments