Returning readers recall relatively recent reflections recommending rest. After five days of riding my bike almost 90 miles, and knowing I would reach 100 miles last week, this weekend I did very little. My body, my left knee and quadricep muscle in particular, were very grateful. As usual I was having trouble getting myself going. So when a friend offered to come by and help with some errands in his car, I jumped, however gently, at the opportunity. Later, we went for a walk, and it got late. I could have forced myself to go put in some miles on the bicycle, but I did not. And it was glorious. Let me tell you.Continue reading
If you ride your bicycle regularly, you may have noticed that lots of little stuff happens that probably doesn’t happen for people dependent on cars to get around. Sometimes it’s big stuff, like you: go on a long ride, compete in a race, get a new bike, set a personal best on that Strava segment. The little stuff that goes on, while not as headline-worthy, is just as interesting, to me at least. There is often more than meets the eye if one is willing to look deeper. Let’s take a look at four things that happened to A Dude and find out.
I’ve been reflecting alot about my third mega-mileage year in a row, since I’m seeming to continue a daily amount of bicycling and walking. 5,143 Miles in 2018: 4,554 Biking + 589 Walking. Pretty, Pretty, Pretty Good for A Dude! I haven’t added or subtracted any New Year’s Resolutions, so I’m wondering if it’s still healthy for me. Especially since I’m generally sleep-deprived and tired if not downright exhausted. Also having a regular if not daily or more encounter with chocolately goodness going into my grocery hole. Then I saw a National Geographic article about addiction and this post about exercise addiction from follower A Better Man 21. It’s as good a topic as any so I’m going to address it, hopefully briefly.
Sometimes it happens that people do mean things. At a new temporary work gig, I met the new boss (same as the old boss). He had a hissy fit about something where he assumed one thing but reality was another, and then stormed off. Not my prob, so whatevs. Merry Fucking Christmas to you, too, Scrooge!
After a quick change of clothes (and attitude) at home, I was about 1/3 of the way into my bike ride when Sophie’s rear wheel punctured from a tiny piece of glass in the road somewhere. Probably from somebody who threw a beer bottle into the bike lane. It had worked it’s way deep into the rubber. Boo hoo for me! Just bad luck, or karma? Continue reading
Well, apparently the hordes have spoken, and there is support for me to ride this event, and then some! It will be my third Mamma Jamma Ride. n fact, two generous souls even put in for the whole minimum amount of $300. It’s all for a good cause, to help women in my area (Central Texas, USA), survive and thrive after a diagnosis and treatment for breast cancer. I’ve also raised $100 for my registration and bike(s) repair and had help from friends and two bike shops. I say bikes, because I don’t even know which one I’ll ride yet! So there’s lots to do and not much time, but below are a few more details of what it’s like doing a charity ride. And a way for you to donate if you can.
It’s been eight days since I’ve ridden a bicycle. Why? Heat. Illness. Lastimas. Life. (Lastimas is wounds or injuries in Spanish. So that spells H.I.L.L, doesn’t it? I meant to.) When thought of in this way, it’s another set of obstacles, another rise in the road to climb, something that tests you but also makes you stronger. Part of me is relieved, and lucky to have use of a car. Another part of me is pissed off that I’m losing whatever fitness and form I had. Another is panicking that I may not get it back, or get back to it, or even be able bike at all without more injury or at least pain. Breathing in deeply, I notice I am not riding my bicycle. Breathing out, I notice that I am writing a blog post about not riding my bicycle. Continue reading
Crisis? What Crisis?
Today was to be a book-writing day so only photos for the blog, and maybe a bike ride map and stats from Strava and short map video from Relive. As you might deduce, that didn’t happen. I got my walk and yoga in, but not the writing. Then my doctor’s appointment took three hours instead of one, most of it waiting. I was not a very patient patient. Continue reading
“The goal of practice is always to keep our beginner’s mind.”
–Shunryu Suzuki, Zen Mind, Beginner’s Mind: Informal Talk on Zen Meditation and Practice
You Don’t Know What you Don’t Know, Don’t You Know?
A Dude Abikes began this blog in 2016 as an experiment in writing about his biking. For the first two years, he focused mostly on all the biking, not so much on the smithing of the words. As 2018 unfolds, he has resolved to write daily for a month and then regularly after that. It’s clear there is still quite alot to be learned about the art, craft, science and je ne sais quois about web logs.
Today’s blog is a writing exercise. A Dude wants to see if he can write 500 words in 30 minutes. He can tend to be long-winded, and while that may appeal to some readers, it may dissuade others. Since I intend to write daily for some period, perhaps even the whole of January, it behooves me to be brief.
It’s refreshing to hear from people who read my blog recently. One is a fellow cyclist who bikes in the winter — in Finland! Thank you all! This blog was intended to be an experiment, and I have a lot to learn about doing it well. New Year resolutions being what they are – much sound and fury signifying nothing – I’m not making many hard and fast rules for myself right now. Continue reading
To donate to my Hill Country Ride for AIDS effort on April 30th, please email me at <ADudeAbikes AT gmail >
It’s early morning on a cloudy Sunday in the Hill Country town of Dripping Springs, Texas. Fifty cyclists trickle into the empty school parking lot slowly, as if arriving at a wake. They spill out of Subarus and Priuses (Prii, my high school Latin teacher’s voice echoes from the past), weird clowns in brightly colored costumes, but tight and made of Spandex, shoes not floppy, clicking on the ground. Aliens looking down would be perplexed by this bizarre parade. Their faces still show signs of sleep, coffee tumblers clutched closely in hands that would soon be covered in fingerless gloves. There was banter and hugging friends, and talk about the chance of rain, while mentally they were each preparing themselves for 22 or 44 miles of relentless pedaling up and down country roads.
The Hill Country Ride for AIDS “Joy Ride”, they call their training outings. But underneath the frivolity and anticipation of just another weekend sporting event being replicated around the world, an air of solemnity hung over this group. Despite my staunch atheism I can’t help but shake an eerie feeling. It’s as if the ghosts of people lost to that damn fucking virus — so many lives lost, and still without a cure — are also gathered in that parking lot with us. Brothers, sisters, lovers, husbands, wives, partners, mothers, sons and daughters. They were there, watching and waiting, their energy drawn to the event, simply by virtue of being remembered. I imagine a silently cheer emanates from the ghosts of HIV victims past, urging the living riders to go on in their names. Continue reading