18 Miles Per Hour

18 MilesPerHour is about riding through the world instead of just passing it by.
MOUNTAIN BIKING CONFESSION: I HATE MUD. These images are from this morning’s ride. Or what started out as this morning’s ride, until I saw that the road was wet, sloppy and was inches-deep in pudding-like mud. Then I turned right around and my morning ride turned into me, sitting inside, drinking hot coffee. I’ve already confessed once before that I don’t like technical singletrack so I’m aware that what little MTB cred I had is dwindling fast. But here’s the thing: popular culture makes it seem as if all mountain bikers love the mud. There’s the cliché image of the smiling mountain biker who’s face is covered in the stuff (applied neatly by some photo stylist, no doubt). And some of my cyclist friends would openly give me a hard time if I bailed on a ride because of mud. But I don’t care. Here’s what riding in the mud means to me. It means most of my energy is spent staying upright in the slippery conditions as opposed to down into the pedals. It means getting in half of the distance I planned on in the brief time I have to go ride. And after all that, it means that (if I give a shit about my bike - and I do) I have to give my bike an extensive cleaning and re-lubing. After one ride. Not worth it. I know, I know. I’m blessed that I don’t live where these conditions are the norm. No, wait, scratch that. I consciously don’t live in those places because I hate that weather and I hate the rain and mud. There, I said it. So am I still a mountain biker if I don’t like the mud? Oh, and technical singletrack? Well, I love the scenery. I love the escape. I love the crunching sound when your tires first hit the dirt. I love rounding a corner and being shaken out of my early-morning, ride-induced meditative trance by a startled deer. I love the regular group of trail runners and hikers I see every morning. I love tubeless tires. And no cars. And no stop signs. And no stoplights. And I love the people – much happier than our tarmac-specific brethren. Yeah, I’m still a mountain biker. - Brian

MOUNTAIN BIKING CONFESSION: I HATE MUD.

These images are from this morning’s ride. Or what started out as this morning’s ride, until I saw that the road was wet, sloppy and was inches-deep in pudding-like mud. Then I turned right around and my morning ride turned into me, sitting inside, drinking hot coffee.

I’ve already confessed once before that I don’t like technical singletrack so I’m aware that what little MTB cred I had is dwindling fast.

But here’s the thing: popular culture makes it seem as if all mountain bikers love the mud. There’s the cliché image of the smiling mountain biker who’s face is covered in the stuff (applied neatly by some photo stylist, no doubt). And some of my cyclist friends would openly give me a hard time if I bailed on a ride because of mud.

But I don’t care.

Here’s what riding in the mud means to me. It means most of my energy is spent staying upright in the slippery conditions as opposed to down into the pedals. It means getting in half of the distance I planned on in the brief time I have to go ride. And after all that, it means that (if I give a shit about my bike - and I do) I have to give my bike an extensive cleaning and re-lubing. After one ride. Not worth it.

I know, I know. I’m blessed that I don’t live where these conditions are the norm. No, wait, scratch that. I consciously don’t live in those places because I hate that weather and I hate the rain and mud. There, I said it.

So am I still a mountain biker if I don’t like the mud? Oh, and technical singletrack? Well, I love the scenery. I love the escape. I love the crunching sound when your tires first hit the dirt. I love rounding a corner and being shaken out of my early-morning, ride-induced meditative trance by a startled deer. I love the regular group of trail runners and hikers I see every morning. I love tubeless tires. And no cars. And no stop signs. And no stoplights.

And I love the people – much happier than our tarmac-specific brethren.

Yeah, I’m still a mountain biker.

- Brian

TODAY I’M THANKFUL FOR: THE SHOWER

Is there anything better. Okay, sure, a few things. But that hot shower after a long, difficult and especially cold ride is high on the list, neck-and-neck with carnal delights the caliber of which I dare not mention on 18milesperhour.

It’s so simple.

It’s just a room with a drain that shoots hot water on you but it’s a luxury that’s reserved for a small percentage of the world’s citizens.

It’s a luxury that I sometimes enjoy with a beer.

It’s a luxury that I never take for granted.

- Brian

TODAY I’M THANKFUL FOR: THE NIGHT-BEFORE-A-RIDE PREP Most mornings I head out for a ride. I absolutely love everything about it, from the first, pre-ride cup of hot coffee to rolling up the driveway at the end of the ride soaked in sweat, capillaries open and flushed, mind crystal clear. But it all starts the night before when I head out to the garage and get everything ready so I can just stroll out, slip it all on and get rolling. My cycling mise en place. This is when I decide whether it’s going to be road or mountain. From there I think of the route. Which helps me decide what to lay out, depending on the weather, type and length-of-ride. I’m thankful for this routine because it makes me happy. That I have the means to do it, physically and financially. And mostly because I can find joy in such a simple thing. Because when I do this, I truly enjoy what I have and don’t worry about what I have not. It’s an uncomplicated way of thinking that I hope I never lose. - Brian

TODAY I’M THANKFUL FOR: THE NIGHT-BEFORE-A-RIDE PREP

Most mornings I head out for a ride. I absolutely love everything about it, from the first, pre-ride cup of hot coffee to rolling up the driveway at the end of the ride soaked in sweat, capillaries open and flushed, mind crystal clear.

But it all starts the night before when I head out to the garage and get everything ready so I can just stroll out, slip it all on and get rolling.

My cycling mise en place.

This is when I decide whether it’s going to be road or mountain.

From there I think of the route.

Which helps me decide what to lay out, depending on the weather, type and length-of-ride.

I’m thankful for this routine because it makes me happy.

That I have the means to do it, physically and financially.

And mostly because I can find joy in such a simple thing.

Because when I do this, I truly enjoy what I have and don’t worry about what I have not.

It’s an uncomplicated way of thinking that I hope I never lose.

- Brian

TODAY I’M THANKFUL FOR: A SIMPLE SUNDAY RIDE WITH THE KIDS. This week will be about giving thanks. I hope the thanksgiving spirit can spread from here, just a bit. Let’s start with something really little yet big.   We don’t go far or fast. My kids don’t race for reals (well, to the top of a short hill every now and again). There’s no destination or reason other than the weather is nice and we’re bored. But I’m thankful because we can. The kids are healthy. They like to toodle around on the bikes. It’s not a workout. It doesn’t make me any fitter. But it makes me happier. What it’s all about, no? - Brian

TODAY I’M THANKFUL FOR: A SIMPLE SUNDAY RIDE WITH THE KIDS.

This week will be about giving thanks.

I hope the thanksgiving spirit can spread from here, just a bit.

Let’s start with something really little yet big.

 

We don’t go far or fast. My kids don’t race for reals (well, to the top of a short hill every now and again).

There’s no destination or reason other than the weather is nice and we’re bored.

But I’m thankful because we can.

The kids are healthy. They like to toodle around on the bikes.

It’s not a workout. It doesn’t make me any fitter. But it makes me happier.

What it’s all about, no?

- Brian

RIDE REPORT: FAST AND BULBOUS. Some rides are inspirational due to the natural beauty through which you ride. Others, because of the challenging terrain. Then there’s a route I occasionally take that inspires with a nearly unlistenable cacophony. See, every so often, the ride to my local trailhead takes me right by that modest little hillside home up there on the right. Inside that house, about 40 some-odd years ago, Captain Beefheart and his magic band created and recorded the landmark, influential album up there on the left. It’s called Trout Mask Replica and it’s not an easy thing to listen to. It was never intended to be easy listening. In fact, it’s more like a piece of art than typical music in that it’s meant to provoke the senses. Challenge the status quo. See, most music has melody and rhythm so it’s easy to digest. This was created to shake all of that loose. And what sounds like random bleating is not. Every single note is studied and purposeful. The band could step into a studio and play the entire 90 minute album, note-perfect (relatively speaking), non-stop. The odd humor and bold approach has influenced countless other people (not just musicians) from The Pixies to Matt Groening. One critic put it on his list of “albums he’d take to a desert island” mainly because that’s about the only place he could put it on without someone telling him to turn the damn thing off.  Listening to it is, for me, the equivalent of those long, hard rides you have to force yourself to do every now and again, to take your conditioning to the next level. It isn’t easy, but it shakes things up and strengthens my creative muscles. Go ahead, feel the burn.

RIDE REPORT: FAST AND BULBOUS.

Some rides are inspirational due to the natural beauty through which you ride. Others, because of the challenging terrain.

Then there’s a route I occasionally take that inspires with a nearly unlistenable cacophony.

See, every so often, the ride to my local trailhead takes me right by that modest little hillside home up there on the right. Inside that house, about 40 some-odd years ago, Captain Beefheart and his magic band created and recorded the landmark, influential album up there on the left.

It’s called Trout Mask Replica and it’s not an easy thing to listen to. It was never intended to be easy listening. In fact, it’s more like a piece of art than typical music in that it’s meant to provoke the senses. Challenge the status quo. See, most music has melody and rhythm so it’s easy to digest. This was created to shake all of that loose. And what sounds like random bleating is not. Every single note is studied and purposeful. The band could step into a studio and play the entire 90 minute album, note-perfect (relatively speaking), non-stop.

The odd humor and bold approach has influenced countless other people (not just musicians) from The Pixies to Matt Groening. One critic put it on his list of “albums he’d take to a desert island” mainly because that’s about the only place he could put it on without someone telling him to turn the damn thing off. 

Listening to it is, for me, the equivalent of those long, hard rides you have to force yourself to do every now and again, to take your conditioning to the next level.

It isn’t easy, but it shakes things up and strengthens my creative muscles.

Go ahead, feel the burn.

HAPPY FRIDAY. RIDE YOUR BIKE THIS WEEKEND. Ride with hope. Ride presidentially (whatever that means). Blue state, red state, it doesn’t matter. Let’s all ride together and ride forward.

HAPPY FRIDAY. RIDE YOUR BIKE THIS WEEKEND.

Ride with hope.

Ride presidentially (whatever that means).

Blue state, red state, it doesn’t matter.

Let’s all ride together and ride forward.

ELECTION NIGHT TRADITION I can’t ever bear to watch the returns so I always take my tools, a glass of wine and an iPod full of music out to the garage and give my bike the once-over. So no matter what happens, I shall roll on. So no matter what happens, I experience a fresh start. - Brian

ELECTION NIGHT TRADITION

I can’t ever bear to watch the returns so I always take my tools, a glass of wine and an iPod full of music out to the garage and give my bike the once-over.

So no matter what happens, I shall roll on.

So no matter what happens, I experience a fresh start.

- Brian

HAPPY FRIDAY. RIDE YOUR BIKE THIS WEEKEND. I haven’t been riding much lately and I’m feeling really fat. Speaking of that, this day in 1956 police had to use tear gas to break up a riot at a Fats Domino concert. A riot. At a Fats Domino concert. Didn’t take much to whip the teens into a frenzy back then, I guess.  Here’s the fat thing that’s been whipping off road cyclists into a frenzy these days. And this. And this. After all this, we have to end on our modern day fat cyclist.

HAPPY FRIDAY. RIDE YOUR BIKE THIS WEEKEND.

I haven’t been riding much lately and I’m feeling really fat.

Speaking of that, this day in 1956 police had to use tear gas to break up a riot at a Fats Domino concert.

A riot.

At a Fats Domino concert.

Didn’t take much to whip the teens into a frenzy back then, I guess. 

Here’s the fat thing that’s been whipping off road cyclists into a frenzy these days.

And this.

And this.

After all this, we have to end on our modern day fat cyclist.

TOO MUCH WORKING, NOT ENOUGH RIDING.

Don’t look to this lame video for any insight or cycling profundity.

Nope, just me riding along on the dirt, filming my shadow.

Been working a lot so there’s not much room in my brain for deep cycling insights.

But soon enough I’ll put work aside and get back out on the bike for reals.

Soon enough my priorities will get straightened out.

- Brian