The NCAR ride is a great way to ease back into the joys and pains of riding hills. I know I can’t hit a ride to Ward right out the gate, so the NCAR ride is a gentle reintroduction to running out of gears.

One of the great features of the ride to NCAR is that I can ride the bike paths nearly all the way out there. I catch the bike path that runs parallel along  the ugliest road in Boulder  Foothills Pkwy, take the flyover, and keep heading straight until I hit CU Boulder East. I continue onto Bear Creek Path. I can actually continue on the bike path(s) for most of the way until turning up onto Table Mesa.

The initial ride past Safeway and some of the residential streets off of Table Mesa are not a bad way to ease into the ride. It’s not that the NCAR ride is outrageously hard, like Old Stage, it’s just a bit short and tart for the first 1/3. But what I find distracting is how amazingly gorgeous the views are and I generally have plenty of time to savor each section because I am not moving quickly. But if I could create a road to Rivendell it would be the climb to NCAR. The blues of the mountain range in the distance, the dark greens of the short grasses that cover the hillside create this enchanting setting, where you can almost imagine Legolas and folk sunning themselves.

One of the reasons I began riding was because I wanted to follow in the adventurous footsteps of my mother. My mom cycled quite a bit growing up in Liverpool. She belonged to a cycling club, which included people with all sorts of ranges of talents and bikes.  One guy was all but semi-pro and went to the Tour de France one year. My mom rode a 3-speed, racing green, Raleigh Hercules.  She said Liverpool had several clubs and many of the smaller towns nearby also had their own so the roads would be busy on a Saturday morning as all the clubs began their rides. I can just about imagine the roads clogged with cyclists after watching the string of vibrant colored spandex cycling out of Boulder on a warm morning.

A common ride for her club was to ride from Liverpool to Wales, stay overnight and then cycle home. It was a big ride for her. She was in her early teens and the route  covered 50-odd miles round trip and involved a ferry ride.  She said her younger brother, Bill, once fell asleep on his way home from one such ride. They would ride through Betws-y-Coed and rent space in barn from a farmer.

When I began to ride beyond my neighborhood streets, I imagined myself cycling down country lanes, passing into ANOTHER COUNTRY and stopping at quaint country pubs for rest. The reality, of course, was quite different. I grew up in San Antonio, which is ranch, truck and football country. It has changed tremendously since I was riding along but during the early 80′s and 90′s, there was nothing particularly quaint about my rides. But they were adventures in their own way. Some rides took me into the leafy, well-healed streets of Alamo Heights (a small, wealthy, annexed part of SA) ; others straight downtown past San Pedro Park (the oldest park in San Antonio) for a swing by Charles E. James bike shop (the oldest bike shop in San Antonio) and then past the Alamo and other major landmarks. I actually felt safer cycling downtown because there wasn’t a whole lot of activity going on down there; San Antonio’s downtown was quite vacant at the time.

Many years later, I live in one of the best cycling areas (that doesn’t have a cycling culture) in the country and get to experience more closely her stories of adventure. But it was her  stories of riding with her brother, through the countryside  that began my affair on two-wheels.

Thanks, Mom!

That's gotta be uncomfortable = Image from Ask Howie

Sarai from Girl Bike Love and Chris from Pro Peloton put on a great learning event on Thursday. The theme of the evening was getting the most fun, efficiency and enjoyment out of your bike. And one of the ways you can work towards that goal is to get a bike fit BEFORE you buy the bike. Yes, you might see the total dream bike: right colors, sweet design, and after a quick cruise round the block decide this is IT. But before you plunk down the coin right there and ride home, take a moment. This an opportunity for you to dial in the little measurements: seat height, brake position, handle bar width that can turn your dream ride into a lifelong affair.

I, of course, have never actually done in that order: bike fit then bike purchase. But after hearing Chris talk, plus his obvious passion for helping people, I know that next time I’m plunking down a wad cash, I’m going to hunker into a bit fit approach to make the most of my investment.

I guess my cycling attired reflected how I had organized my life. When I was out riding, I was out: right gear, power bars, and some barely palatable sports drink. I rode into town but not very often so when I wasn’t riding long distances, I wasn’t riding. Commuting rarely figured into my life, let alone every day so I never considered that having separate clothes for cycling might be a bit redundant.

It wasn’t until I got my first single-speed that my ‘cycling wardrobe’ really expanded. It was an old steel-framed, single-speed Trek and I loved it. Loved it and rode it as often as I could in all sorts of clothing: jeans, pants, skirts (if I was able to position the bike to get my leg over the top tube), sweaters, t-shirts – you get the idea. And I began to ride more often, to more places, my wardrobe limited only by my ability to swing my leg over the top tube and not get chain oil on my leg.  I fell in love with commuting and all of a sudden didn’t feel the urge to put in long mileage for the sake of putting in long mileage. It became about fun, and meeting up for dinner, dropping into the library.

I won’t mention what happened to that much loved single-speed, suffice it to say that even steel crumples when it is jammed into a garage door.

Today, I want to ride in clothes that I can wear when I arrive at my final destination. Granted for longer rides out amongst the hills of Boulder, I’m probably not going to get clicked in wearing a pair of heals (although..). But most of my time spent in the saddle is cycling to work, to the grocery store, or out for dinner. So, I decided I’m going to check out some of the cycling-inspired attire companies have been making.

If you have any suggestion on where I might look, drop me a line.

I can’t imagine sleeping as little as these cyclists did in order to finish in the allotted time. There’s the whole physical and mental stress of riding long miles but add to it a lack of sleep and I’m not sure how the people who finished held onto their sanity.  I don’t think I can ever fully appreciate the depths and breadths their psyche traveled during this event. What they experienced must have been transcendent and hellish.

Staggeringly beauty of the natural of the world. I think most countries can boast of dramatic scenery and breathtaking vistas. I also think the US as large as it is provides tremendous a rich and varied landscape. But can you imagine being exposed to them all so nakedly and so intensely?

Riding outside your comfort zone. I wonder what’s it like to keep riding. I go out for a ride and know that my final destination is really my back patio with a glass of beer at the end of a day on the bike. These guys/gals mounted up each day to take them farther and farther into their journey and their ultimate destination was measured in miles not location. How do you prepare mentally and physically for ongoing discomfort and an end that is more of a concept that an actuality?

This is a great movie to see. It doesn’t romanticize adventure; it very much exposes the toll it takes both on the participants and supporters.  It does a good job of honestly conveying both the extreme risks and delights of doing something extraordinary.

Even if you don’t ride, if the idea of walking out your door and stepping out for a great experience excites you, you’ll get something out of this movie.

From David Byrne's Journal

I’m just kicking off the season’s riding. Looking for the sweet, warm calm between wind storms and biting Spring cold temps/rain. And on those days where the needle falls comfortably in the middle temps, I head out to the false flats and flats that run parallel to the Foothills (it’s too early in the year to kick off the big climbs). Most of the time, I take 36 out of Boulder, following the ribbon of other cyclists in their brightly-colored spandex. The slow incline out of Boulder gives me a chance to warm my legs and stretch out. Once past the Gateway Park, round the concrete works, I begin the big descent.  This is my least favorite part of the entire journey. I would rather take my chances and ride over broken glass than take this swift bend out of Boulder.

Yes, I am exaggerating, of course, but this one section of road with its fast turn and close proximity to cars gaining their top speeds reveals to me all the vulnerabilities of wearing flimsy clothing and riding skinny tires. I don’t know what it is that turns my stomach quivering as I am not generally either a timid nor a scared cyclist. If I was, I certainly would not have continued to ride as often or for as long. And it’s not as if Boulder hasn’t done a superb job on the shoulder, which is wide; or with their signs, which say “Share the ‘effin’ road with nice, groovy cyclists” (or something like that). I just feel unusually exposed on this one section of road. To get through it, I point my wheel straight and close my eyes. Ha. In reality, I get into my drops so I have quick access to my brakes, sit back on the saddle and pedal. I stay far to the right so that the speedsters can overtake me on the left and keep my eyes open and alert. The section is fast so the moment of fear passes pretty quickly and then I’m climbing again.

Are there road sections that scare you? If so, where are they and how do you ride through with confidence?

We met up at Amante. I arrived a little early, disturbing a very professional looking group of mtn bikers. A couple of them  looked at me with concern as I rode up on my pink, DeRosa roadie. I assured them I was not joining them, which got a laugh from one out of the eight. Tough crowd.

We headed out towards Hwy36 on Broadway and were just about to make the turn out of town when we ran (or cycled) into Alan Lim of Skratch labs. He was handing out samples of his energy drink and rice cakes, especially designed for athletes. Check out his Web site where he describes the thought and care that has gone into the recipes for his energy foods. I know that I am eventually became grossed out by the sugary, sticky mess that I was eating on long rides and I have to say I really enjoyed the samples he handed out. I was pleasantly surprised by the flavor of the rice cakes as I was not expecting a savory flavor at all. Funnily enough as we pulled away, Alan said “don’t starve”; I shouted back “we are going for breakfast”, which was met with a bit of confusion. I guess I was already wolfing down samples and now was going to go eat more.

Heading out onto Hwy36, we eventually took a right onto Neva. You can actually ride further along 36 and take any number of rights (going south)and eventually run into a road going north that takes you into Hygiene, but we were eager to get off the busy highway. As it turned out, we may have been better off going a little further along because our northbound left turn onto 63 was cut short by road work. The whole road was closed. We noticed another cyclist trying to negotiate a route around but with little luck and not much conviction as he had described a sheriff handing out tickets to cyclist doing the exact same thing the day before.

So we headed back out and eventually turned left onto 75th, which worked out perfectly because we came across yet another cyclist looking for a little photography help, as you would.  She wanted a picture of herself standing in front of the Hygiene Feed sign that read “We have chicks”. Of course, as she was only a singular chick, my friend was co-opted into the pic to provide a plural presence.

Finally, we pulled into the Crane Cafe. I don’t think I had ever had such a social, chatty ride. Cycling can sometimes look quite lonely and singular so it was great to chat with other two-wheeled peeps on Boulder roads.

My professional Development

How often does a person get to include the Rolling Stones and Texas Live Oaks in a blog post. But I think the two themes fairly represent my  approach to trying new things.

I wanted to help. I wanted to change how we all view the environment. Transform it from a concept that is separate from our daily lives, and our pocket books to one that is an enriching and valuable part of who we are. I took classes on green building, ultimately earning my LEED AP; I took classes, earning a vague Sustainable Practices certification and the more substantial GRI; I interned at a Green Consulting company and I networked. I was excited and eager to get involved to show that maybe we didn’t need to make a choice between clean water and making a living.

But somewhere along the way, I began to hear ‘so, you’re a wannabe” sustainability person. And I heard it more than once. As if all my aspirations, money and time had merely earned me a grudging glance from some more well-established peers. Yes, I was a ‘wannabe’ – an enthusiastic, reading everything, going to conference person, who wanted to be involved. I read tons, visited Web sites and tried to understand how assigning a real value to our environmental resources could be accounted for in how we paid for things.

It was a little over a year ago, when I decide to get off the treadmill of conferencing going and course taking. I failed. I just couldn’t break through and no amount of education and enthusiasm was going to transform me into a sustainability professional.The blame lies with me: maybe I should have gone and gotten my MBA in Sustainability, maybe I didn’t want to make the tough choices to make a career transition, like move to another location.

Or maybe not. To borrow a phrase from the most hedonistic people I can think of The Rolling Stones -  “you don’t always get what you want, you get what you need”. It’s a line that I find particularly galling coming from them but it does seem to hold some validity. I didn’t make the transition, didn’t cross the bridge but I did meet some extraordinary people and the experience set me up to be more willing to get involved in other movements and events, like TEDxBoulder.

I feel like my professional composite of experiences more closely resembles one of those Texas Live Oaks, with branches shooting off in different direction in pursuit of knowledge. Some of the attempts ended up grounded, others continue up and out but the resulting effect is pretty unique, at least in my eyes.

And despite all the twisting and skewed growth, the core of what I believe is maintained. I still firmly believe that understanding technology, writing and communicating and gaining a better understanding of how businesses can thrive is all useful in helping to build a better, more environmentally-valued future.

So, yes, I did fail to make the career transition. But I still wannabe learning, growing and working and maybe that’s what I need. Damn, the Stones.

• Register Your ride – plan a ride and then get all your pals to visit the site to join in
• Share Your Story – celebrate the reasons your ride, so you can inspire others to throw a leg over
• Get Your CycloFemme Tattoo – ‘nut said, really

Planned group rides have been registered from as far away as Australia and as close to home as Boulder.  Check out the Ride List and join one or set one up.  It’s a great chance to get back into the swing of riding or cycle some well-worn trails with some good friends.

I checked the forecast a couple of times during the week and actually recommended a reschedule to Sunday to take advantage of the 2 degree warmer temp. By Friday, we we had a plan, a start time of 9:30 and Amante as the meeting place selected. In a word, we  were a ‘go’.

Saturday it was windy. Very. But I was optimistic that the wind would lose some of its huff and puff by Sunday morning. I was wrong. Very. The morning dawned bright, clear and gusty. I looked out the window, at the swaying tree tops, and tried to put a spin on the scene outside.

I wasn’t willing to crawl back into bed; the gorgeous sunlight just looked too inviting. I also didn’t want to disappoint my friend and I was excited to try breakfast at the Crane in Hygiene.

I dressed in my gear and noticed I was all in black, which was unintentional and made me look like I was in mourning.  I guess in retrospect it was perfectly suitable attire for drinking espresso in a cafe. Hubby had very kindly gotten pinky some new shoes and so she was riding smooth and fast as I headed up our street. I was full of lively expectations: I had my camera, a full water bottle and was excited to be headed out on what I was certain would be a fun ride.  This lasted about 300 yards when I had to turn north and rode right into a blast of wind that was powered by and emerged from a time when the earth was young and full of fire.

I lurched, swayed, and battled my way up to Amante on Broadway, which is about 2 miles from my house and is where all the skinny roadies scarf their scones before their rides.  I met my friend, we discussed our options and decided that we would not be so easily swayed; we would take it to the road. Our fervor lasted about 5 minutes on Hwy 36 when we made the decision to make a big-U and head to Spruce Confections.

The ride was cut short but I still had a great time and a story to tell of being out on a bike with friends.