18 Miles Per Hour

18 MilesPerHour is about riding through the world instead of just passing it by.
THE “B” WORD.
Bitches are all the same.
From the outside they don’t seem all that bad.
First few times you get involved, they’re no big deal.
But the longer you spend with them.
The more times you get burned by them.
They live up to their name.
And there are so many of them.
I’m talking about the 7 “Bitches” In the 24 Hours In The Old Pueblo of course.
Any resemblance to other bitches out there is purely coincidental.

THE “B” WORD.

Bitches are all the same.

From the outside they don’t seem all that bad.

First few times you get involved, they’re no big deal.

But the longer you spend with them.

The more times you get burned by them.

They live up to their name.

And there are so many of them.

I’m talking about the 7 “Bitches” In the 24 Hours In The Old Pueblo of course.

Any resemblance to other bitches out there is purely coincidental.

HAPPY FRIDAY. RIDE YOUR BIKE THIS WEEKEND.
Like Mr. Warhol, who passed away this day back in 1987.
Peel Slowly And See.
I hope you get that reference. If not, then I just hope you get out and ride. 

HAPPY FRIDAY. RIDE YOUR BIKE THIS WEEKEND.

Like Mr. Warhol, who passed away this day back in 1987.

Peel Slowly And See.

I hope you get that reference. If not, then I just hope you get out and ride. 

EARNING MY STRIPES
Not the rainbow stripes on the cap.
Not the metaphorical “stripes” one earns with some heroic deed.
But those stripes of salt and minerals perspired out during last weekend’s 24 Hours In The Old Pueblo.
I earned those, believe you me.
Through stupidity and irresponsibility, when it comes to managing my water and electrolyte intake.
Warm, windy and very dry conditions led to severe cramping in every muscle in both legs. I’ve never, ever experienced such severe cramping in a lifetime of athletic pursuits.
After trailside massages and a long walk back to base camp, I took a few hours off and a few of Rhys’ Enduralyte supplements and felt much better.
Gatorade just wasn’t enough.
Those salt stripes are a good indicator of what my body lost.
And the knowledge and wisdom gained.
- Brian

EARNING MY STRIPES

Not the rainbow stripes on the cap.

Not the metaphorical “stripes” one earns with some heroic deed.

But those stripes of salt and minerals perspired out during last weekend’s 24 Hours In The Old Pueblo.

I earned those, believe you me.

Through stupidity and irresponsibility, when it comes to managing my water and electrolyte intake.

Warm, windy and very dry conditions led to severe cramping in every muscle in both legs. I’ve never, ever experienced such severe cramping in a lifetime of athletic pursuits.

After trailside massages and a long walk back to base camp, I took a few hours off and a few of Rhys’ Enduralyte supplements and felt much better.

Gatorade just wasn’t enough.

Those salt stripes are a good indicator of what my body lost.

And the knowledge and wisdom gained.

- Brian

ACQUIRED TASTE: THE LUNCHTIME RIDE
It’s a common thing for cyclists. The lunchtime ride. The savior of many a career-ladder-climbing cyclist. But I’ve never done it.
I’ve been a lifetime early-morning, pre-work cyclist. I’ve sworn by them. The best way to start off a day. Lunchtime? That’s for eating. 
But my new job has me commuting longer than ever before. And it’s colder than ever in the mornings here in Los Angeles. I know, I know, that last sentence made most of the world cackle. But it’s been colder here than in the typically cold parts of the country. 
So out of sheer desperation and fear of for-reals-dying at Old Pueblo, I tried the midday ride. 
And it’s pretty great. 
It doesn’t hurt that I’ve got a quick, short, but hearty-enough, category 3/4 climb that takes me right near the iconic Hollywood sign right outside my office door.
Having spent 20 years riding the Alpine climbs of the Malibu hills I used to scoff at the Griffith Park cyclists. 
But no more. 
I’m very grateful for this quick little climb.
Even after the impending race comes and goes. 
Even after the morning temps warm up.
I may be a lifetime lunchtime cyclist.
Thank you, Griffith Park.
- Brian

ACQUIRED TASTE: THE LUNCHTIME RIDE

It’s a common thing for cyclists. The lunchtime ride. The savior of many a career-ladder-climbing cyclist. But I’ve never done it.

I’ve been a lifetime early-morning, pre-work cyclist. I’ve sworn by them. The best way to start off a day. Lunchtime? That’s for eating.

But my new job has me commuting longer than ever before. And it’s colder than ever in the mornings here in Los Angeles. I know, I know, that last sentence made most of the world cackle. But it’s been colder here than in the typically cold parts of the country.

So out of sheer desperation and fear of for-reals-dying at Old Pueblo, I tried the midday ride.

And it’s pretty great.

It doesn’t hurt that I’ve got a quick, short, but hearty-enough, category 3/4 climb that takes me right near the iconic Hollywood sign right outside my office door.

Having spent 20 years riding the Alpine climbs of the Malibu hills I used to scoff at the Griffith Park cyclists.

But no more.

I’m very grateful for this quick little climb.

Even after the impending race comes and goes.

Even after the morning temps warm up.

I may be a lifetime lunchtime cyclist.

Thank you, Griffith Park.

- Brian

REVIEW-INDUCED PARANOIA

The good news, I got some new road bike tires. And they were on sale.

The bad news, I read the online reviews after I mounted them and about an hour before my maiden voyage.

Okay fine, so not all the reviews were like the above. Only about a third. The other two thirds were glowing.

But when the bad reviews are about catastrophic failure?

And all I’m riding lately is roughly-paved climbs with steep descents?

And it’s the first time I’ve strayed from my favorite tires in a decade?

After my first ride, the tires feel great. I love them.

I’ve decided to not give in to the paranoia and proceed with caution.

Regarding my decision:

STRENGTHS:  I get to ride my bike and don’t have to deal with the headache of trying to return stuff.

WEAKNESSES:  I could end up in the E.R. again due to a horrendous blowout.

BOTTOM LINE:  I’m gonna give them a few months, bail on them and beg my beloved Michelin Pro Race tires to take me back.

Wish me luck.

- Brian

STATIONARY RHYTHM.
Clickety Clack, Clickety Clack,
Clickety Click, Clickety Thwack.
This is the train.
The train on the track,
I can see from my hotel in London.
Clickety click, clickety thwack.
That’s my bike.
My stationary bike,
In the hotel gym, in London.
Clickety Clack, Clickety Clack,
Clickety Click, Clickety Thwack.
The hotel bike,
That overlooks the tracks.
In my hotel gym in London.
- Rhys

STATIONARY RHYTHM.

Clickety Clack, Clickety Clack,

Clickety Click, Clickety Thwack.

This is the train.

The train on the track,

I can see from my hotel in London.

Clickety click, clickety thwack.

That’s my bike.

My stationary bike,

In the hotel gym, in London.

Clickety Clack, Clickety Clack,

Clickety Click, Clickety Thwack.

The hotel bike,

That overlooks the tracks.

In my hotel gym in London.

- Rhys

HAPPY FRIDAY. RIDE YOUR BIKE THIS WEEKEND. 
Like Mr. Martin, but hopefully you won’t have to be as bundled up.
Maybe you can ride something a little wild and crazy.
Or start training for the King Tut Tri.
Banjo always makes some quality stuff, too.
 And last but not least…the jerks.
 

HAPPY FRIDAY. RIDE YOUR BIKE THIS WEEKEND. 

Like Mr. Martin, but hopefully you won’t have to be as bundled up.

Maybe you can ride something a little wild and crazy.

Or start training for the King Tut Tri.

Banjo always makes some quality stuff, too.

 And last but not least…the jerks.

 

THE MIRACULOUS PHYSICS OF FLATS
The flat Gods are in rare form lately.
Not pinch flats or running through glass shards, but that thick stick above that pierced my tire this morning.
The hole was so large that, when pulled out, the Stan’s sealant inside the tire sprayed all over my driveway.
Then there’s the odd nail or screw that occasionally lodges itself straight into my tire.
How does this happen?
Seriously, the mind boggles. And seethes. 
Does the front tire kick it up into a not-quite-vertical position, angled just so it can ram into the oncoming rear tire? That seems like a one-in-a-billion shot, but it happens fairly often. Crafty flat Gods.
I imagine a scenario like those old, Gillette Atra commercial animations. You know the ones, where the first blade lifts up the whisker so the second can trim it off neatly. But in this case, my front tire lifts the stick/nail/screw up into a vertical position so the second tire can get stabbed cleanly.  
It’s an unlikely, miraculously-precise scenario that happens regularly.
I’d prefer my cosmic luck to be applied to lottery tickets or professional success.
Or how about my tire dislodging a buried gold nugget and flipping it up into my jersey pocket? Is that asking too much?
I fear that my questioning has angered the flat Gods.
Never mind. All is fine. I said nothing.

THE MIRACULOUS PHYSICS OF FLATS

The flat Gods are in rare form lately.

Not pinch flats or running through glass shards, but that thick stick above that pierced my tire this morning.

The hole was so large that, when pulled out, the Stan’s sealant inside the tire sprayed all over my driveway.

Then there’s the odd nail or screw that occasionally lodges itself straight into my tire.

How does this happen?

Seriously, the mind boggles. And seethes.

Does the front tire kick it up into a not-quite-vertical position, angled just so it can ram into the oncoming rear tire? That seems like a one-in-a-billion shot, but it happens fairly often. Crafty flat Gods.

I imagine a scenario like those old, Gillette Atra commercial animations. You know the ones, where the first blade lifts up the whisker so the second can trim it off neatly. But in this case, my front tire lifts the stick/nail/screw up into a vertical position so the second tire can get stabbed cleanly.  

It’s an unlikely, miraculously-precise scenario that happens regularly.

I’d prefer my cosmic luck to be applied to lottery tickets or professional success.

Or how about my tire dislodging a buried gold nugget and flipping it up into my jersey pocket? Is that asking too much?

I fear that my questioning has angered the flat Gods.

Never mind. All is fine. I said nothing.

CYCLISTS FIND THINGS: EVEN PRETTY THINGS

Porn, drugs, shoes, gloves, sunglasses, spark plugs, tools and money; we’ve found them all out there.

But a long stem red rose, now that was a first.

I feel that finding a red rose in the gutter outside a restaurant on a Sunday morning suggests it didn’t go so well the night before. But who knows, to be optimistic, it could have.

Either way, it was first, and a nice end to about ten hours in the saddle last weekend for Mr James and myself.

Old Pueblo is just 4 weeks away and the training is making the training easier.

Many hours in the saddle makes many hours in the saddle normal.

A rose is a rose is a rose.

- Rhys

MAXIMUM R&B
When it comes to cycling, I’m not usually influenced by other cyclists.
When it comes to writing, I’m not often influenced by writers.
I’m influenced by those who put it all out there. Leave it all on the field, trail, road, stage, canvas, and so on.
People who feel deeply when they create in the hopes that we may feel as well.
So I may attempt to write like Lemond
And give creative presentations like Jackson Pollack.
And yes, even cycle like Pete Townshend and the lads.
I’m not saying I’m making any masterpieces out there. But I’m turning it up loud, giving it my all and, most importantly, having fun out there.
Thank you, good night!
- Brian

MAXIMUM R&B

When it comes to cycling, I’m not usually influenced by other cyclists.

When it comes to writing, I’m not often influenced by writers.

I’m influenced by those who put it all out there. Leave it all on the field, trail, road, stage, canvas, and so on.

People who feel deeply when they create in the hopes that we may feel as well.

So I may attempt to write like Lemond

And give creative presentations like Jackson Pollack.

And yes, even cycle like Pete Townshend and the lads.

I’m not saying I’m making any masterpieces out there. But I’m turning it up loud, giving it my all and, most importantly, having fun out there.

Thank you, good night!

- Brian