May 24, 2004
Clipped In
Today I tried out my new, blue, Shimano shoes and clipless pedals. These were another purchase of late. With only four days left of work, my rationale tells me I have to buy all the things I need, (or just desire), while I still have a job. Now I am looking and walking like a real biker. However, I am still working on riding like one.
These new pedals have tightly adjusted springs which actually require you to twist the shoe's unscathed cleats out of. What a novel idea as my old Cannondale shoes had no useable cleats left and the pedal's springs had long since failed. That old shoe/pedal set was purchased with my Kona Blast back in 2000 and ridden (almost) daily since. A week ago clipping out was a merely the act of pulling my foot up harder than a typical pedal stroke. Today that was not the case.
After our cruise through Stanley Park, we rode along the Lower Levels of NV and headed up the dog walking trails along the Seymour River. Following closely behind Andrew I was forced to make a sudden stop. The "Brail-Trail" Riding Technique of his failed as he had turned into a dead end. With my eight-inch hydraulic disk brakes, the stop wasn't a problem. When I went to put down my foot, I instead put my body down. A slow calculated tipping to the left placed me and my ego into the shrubbery. After a quick blush and a giggle I brushed most of the greenery off my shorts and shirt and pedaled on.
After more minutes and many more kilometres we started on our way back towards Stanley Park. We were riding along the Seymour Parkway and opted to stop for the red light, as there were cars everywhere. I was in the middle of our threesome pack. There I balanced trying to kick out of the pedals. Swaying, swaying, swaying, to tumbling to the right this time!
With my bike and legs in the road and my body sprawled across the sidewalk I was partially laughing and partially dying of embarrassment. Because of the funny angle my ankles were in, the fact there was 33 pounds of bike on me, and the notion that I should be trying to act suave, the unclipping wasn't happening. There I lay. Fortunately my "Quick Release Helmet Visor" came off, Lars pointed out through his laughter.
After two traffic light changes, and countless motorist wondering why there was a girl flailing about with a bike locked to her feet and two guys laughing at her, I managed to untwist myself. With the humiliating portion of my day over with we returned over the Lions Gate Bridge. I eventually arrived safely back in Burnaby. The duration of the return trip was spent trying to convince myself, everybody has "accidents".
Posted by jmclean at 08:51 PM | Comments (0)
May 17, 2004
Whistled Away
This weekend started with the idea of riding Whistler's Mountain Bike Park. Ingenious, a chairlift set up to transport me and my HUGE bike to the top of a plethora of the bike specific trails. For good measure we then added in a deluxe hotel suite, gourmet meals, a night in the club, and six good friends. You may think that that is just another weekend in the life of Jenn. If only that were true, however, this weekend past I felt like I really had it all!
Late Friday evening after packing our two cars full of;
6 people
3 mountain bikes
1 road bike
3 snowboards
1 pair of skis
And enough food, clothes and equipment to keep us satisfied we headed up the Sea to Sky highway.
Arriving at the "luxurious" Tantalus Hotel in downtown Whistler we settled in. Through the darkness, we could pick out the two hot tubs, pool, tennis courts and of course the surrounding mountain shadows. Here we mentally and physically prepared for our weekend ahead with some beverages, appetizers, entertainment and relaxation, (AKA booze, chips, TV and the couch).
Saturday morning we woke to Jenn and Richard's rendition of Nat King Cole's "Unforgettable" and the Marching Band playing their rendition of "The Flintstones Theme". Nothing beats melodies in the morning!
After the early morning tunage we hit the Hill. Starting off a little uncertain, nervous and timid we rode B-Line. Next was A-Line and from there our confidence was building; Dirt Merchant, Fantastic, Heart of Darkness, A-Line, Boneyard, A-Line, Boneyard, B-Line, A-Line, Boneyeard and A-Line. Run after run of progressively faster descents, smoother lines and bigger hits. By the end of the day my hands hurt, my shoulders ached, I could feel my quads and calves threatening to crap, I had sunny-ed my cheeks, and I had a permi-grin. Well worth my $40.00 lift ticket!
Back at the hotel we dined like royalty. We whet our appetite with a meat lasagna appetizer. We moved on to the main course of cheddar-filled smokies served with a side Wonderbread hotdog buns, and our chose of ketchup, mustard and relish condiments. We soon discovered danger in the wieners. If you poked them in just the right spot with just enough pressure out would squirt an uncontrolled medley of boiling cheese and meat.
Still in the hotel, at around 11:00 we had a scare. On of the group had made full body contact with the evil couch and was being tempted by the sleep magnets. The attack came without notice and took a full group effort to revive our snoozy comrade. With much prodding, pushing, begging and sweet-talking we managed to release the couch's grip on Ti Ti and get to the club as a complete clique.
Sunday 9:40 AM, I find myself back in the room, woken to the marching band's rendition of "the Flintstones", again. Not wanting to miss any of the much-improved group's beats I open the sliding glass door and let the sweet melodies flow in. As I started to fully regain consciousness I notice there are signs of life in our hotel room. I can already smell the bacon and coffee aromas mingling forming a mouth water scent. All I can say is Breakfast of Champions! With this one meal we were re-stocked with enough energy and calories to carry us through our entire day.
At this point I head off in the direction of Pemberton. The road bike was flying until I decided it was time to turn back. Note to self: a 50-minute bike ride with a tailwind and a noticeable decrease in elevation equals a not entirely enjoyable return trip. 1 hours and 30 minutes later, almost double the time of the first half, I was back in the hotel hot tub. There I sat sipping on some simple sugars, and preparing for my return to Vancouver's grind.
Posted by jmclean at 06:44 PM | Comments (0)
May 09, 2004
Head Banging
My most recent Saturday started as most Saturdays start. Early. I was up at the crack of dawn, or so it seemed. Before 8am the car was packed with the cross-country biking gear. The plan was to complete a trial run of the Test Of Metal, (TOM - the big 67 km bike race in Squamish). By 9:30, with two friends in tow, we were parked at the Brennan Park Leisure Centre in Squamish, the start point for the real TOM.
Never having ridden the whole racecourse in one go, I was excited and nervous. How was the four to five-hour epic ride going to treat me? It all started as it should, up, up and up to Alice Lake. Here is where I managed to flat my tire. It took all three of us cursing and sweating to get the skinny tire, (2.1") off and then back on to the not-so-skinny rim. In retrospect it was probably just a slow leak. No hole was ever found, though we did get a nice breather.
Onward we continued. Following the course up the hike-a-bike, down the Corners, down the road, up the road, over the bridge, up the trail, past the Powerhouse water station, up Bonk Hill, past the rock blasting area, to the top of 9-mile hill, (HOORAY), and on to the Ring Creek Rip. At this point I was ready to enjoy the fruits of my labour, approximately 10 kilometres of downhill. We were 47-kilometres into the ride with only 20 more to go. I won?t lie, I was getting tired!
Like a shot I took off down the trail. I was hovering in the speed slightly below being out of control, and slightly above my usual comfort zone. I was loving the rush, thinking of all the other riders who wouldn?t dare go this fast. High on adrenaline and delusional from exhaustion, I spotted an exposed rock. I decided that I would hop it. That went all right, until I hit the landing. At that exact moment my right arm gave up. With my feeble grip I tried to brake. To the left of the trail I saw a fallen tree. As I have recently learned, your bike follows your line of sight.
KaBAAM, I hit the tree trunk square on. At this point I remember fear, air, and landing headfirst. I quickly tried to jump up, got half way up and collapsed back. I could hear Lars? bike screech to a stop behind me then his laughter, ?Holy cow, that, {ha ha ha}, was awesome! Are you ok, {ha ha ha}?!??
?No!?
That shut him up pretty quick. Luckily, and I mean luckily, when I finally got up and walked around to access the crash scene, there were no major injuries. My right ankle was bleeding, my legs and middle were bruised, and my neck was getting a bit stiff. I had landed a good 5 feet from the log. Using my investigation expertise I pieced together the crash. I had gone headfirst over the handlebars and log. The bike followed and was launched over me. It was found 12-feet down trail from where I had landed.
When we finally got going again I was a little more sheepish. At this point I had no desire to attempt the last few kilometers of the course. We took the Garabaldi Park Road out.
Thanks to Andrew and Lars for not making me feel too bad about falling on the easiest bit of the whole ride. Now I have something to do this afternoon, buy a new helmet.
Posted by jmclean at 12:55 PM | Comments (0)