Finally. The Wait is Over.

I made a decision on the front rack. Time is running out and I've got to start training.

I went with the low-rider rack and changed out my front brake in the process.

I had asked Steve, my boss, what I should do in terms of my front rack dilemma. He is a mechanical engineer, by study, by trade, even by thought process. Watching him think is akin to Ron Howard's filming of the Da Vinci code: you can see him solve the puzzles in his mind.

What should I do? I asked, expecting him to give me some sort of response that only a talented engineer like him would offer.

"Uh," he said. "Change the rack, stick with your brakes."

Huh?

"You should stick with what you're used to."

What I'm used to is riding without 50 pounds of gear on the bike. Steve's answer was a little to shoot from the hip--even for my style. I like to wing it and research it at the same time. So I thought about: the lower the load, the more stable the ride, the less I will feel the extra weight when riding the bike. Makes sense.

Changing out just the front brake didn't bother me. Mechanical Disc brakes offer somewhat modulated breaking (although not quite as well tuned as their Hydraulic counterpart), whereas V-brakes are definitively abrupt. I reasoned that a) I've used v-brakes before and b) I'm accustomed to only using the front brake when I actually want to stop the bike. Thus, I can ride the disc brake in the rear to slow the bike down and use the front brake actually stop the darn thing.

It took some time--and some help from mechanics Nate and Ryan--to get the thing installed. I needed an adapter to accomadate the different pull ratios. I rode into work on my day off, did the conversion, and rode home. The bike did feel somewhat more nimble in the front without the extra weight of the disc brake. Ahh, but this feeling would not last . . .

Coming up next: Riding fully loaded. The Adventures in training continue!!

Rainproff shoe covers: neoprene versus Gore-Tex

Central Connecticut got some much needed rain these last few days, and I obtained a much needed device for my sojourn to Florida. In the interest of protecting my shoes from total saturation, I decided to invenst in some waterproof shoe covers. My question was, regular shoe covers or premium?

The premium choice was tempting. Gore Bikeware has shoe covers with its patented Gore-Tex material. Air and water can escape, but water cannot get in. Ingenius.

The "regular" choice was plane old neoprene. Simple concept. Water can't get in; can't get out. The shortcoming is that the material doesn't allow any "breathing," so over time I can sweat.

Here's the kicker: Both products are made from 95 percent of the same material. Low-tec, nothing special, straight polyester. Neoprene is 95 percent polyester and 5 percent polyvinylcholride (PVC). It's the PVC that keeps water from penetrating in either direction. And fancy shmancy GoreTex? Straight, 100 percent pure polyester. It's all about the weave pattern that keeps water out yet allows air and water to escape.

Cost ended up being the tiebracker. Neoprene offers the same water protection at 1/4 the cost, so I went with Louis Garneau's NeoProtect shoe covers for Nicole and me. If money were no option, I would have gone for the premium choice, but I've got to free up funds in order to thoroughly enjoy some of the activities on the way down.

Three weeks until we descend down Cadillac Mountain on our way to Florida!

Riding in the rain

I'm on Manchester Road in South Glastonbury and it's drizzling. The road is surface is wet, and I'm traveling slower than my usual pace. The bike nearly came out from under me when I braked a little too hard going down Quarry Road, so I've got to be careful.

It's a ride home from work, and I'm testing out the resistance to water of some of my clothing choices as well as my panniers. No Nicole on this one. It's just a solo ride today.

For the time being, I'm relatively dry. I decided to forgo fancy materials such as Gore-Tex in favor of Louis Garneau's "Clean Imper" jacket. It's basically a glorified poncho with vents. At the beginning of the ride, it felt like a garbage bag flapping around in the wind. As I rode on, the water bonded to material, thus weighing it down to prevent the sleeves from whipping in the wind.

My feet were a different story. My Bontrager Race Mountain shoes work fairly well--to a point. The shoes designed as a delicate balancing act. On the one hand, they are designed to breathe for the rigors of long-term riding. On the other hand, they are also built to keep the rider's feet safe from the amount of water that he would encounter. 15 minutes into the ride and my feet are still relatively dry.

I keep pedaling onward, and I can't help but smile. For some twisted, masochistic reason, it's fun to ride in the rain. It's good to mix things up a little bit, and there is a distinct pleasure of uniqueness that comes from enjoying something that others would find intolerable.

As I approach Hebron Avenue, I remind myself to go slower. No racing to beat the red light this time. I gently ride the rear brake as I coast to the intersection and wait for the light to turn green.

Green light. As I cross through the intersection, it starts to rain a little bit harder. I'm a little worried about my handlebar mounted GPS. They say it's water resistant, but I don't want to take chances. I keep pedaling as I seamlessly remove the GPS with one hand and place it in the rear pocket of my cycling jersey, safely tucked under my impermeable jacket.

My feet are getting a little bit wetter. Soon, I'll just hit a saturation point and my feet will be socked. Adventure cycling recommends shoe covers, and I may have to take them up on it. I've never ridden longer than my ride home from Bicycles East in the rain.

I'm at the Manchester Country Club and now it's really starting to rain. Normally I'm riding hard at 25 miles per hour during this stretch, but under these circumstance my only concern is to just keep the bike moving. My feet are wet now, and everything after this point is total saturation down there. My torso, however, is completely dry.

I turn off the road onto the Charter Oak Greenway. As usual, I turn the bike at a relatively steep angle until I feel the bike start to give under me. Thankfully, I react instantaneously and upright the bike and keep pedaling. I smile as I think about how many professional tours are won and lost because a rider failed to adjust his riding to wet surfaces.

I arrive at my apartment, walk up the stairs and open the door. Nicole and her parents are in the living room, to my surprise, and they see what looks like a soaking wet boyfriend. What a surprise for everyone!

I smile and say hello. Nicole says I better change. I quickly excuse myself and change out of my cycling clothes and into more appropriate attire. I towel off my soaking wet feet, run my hands through my hair and re-introduce myself. Viola!

The bags held up great, as well. My rear panniers have an integrated waterproof liner, and my work clothes, shoes, wallet and cellphone are as dry as a bone!

Some water collected outside of the inner liner. I'll have to just fully load up and do an extended ride in the rain to foresee what will happen on the bike trip. Riding home for 35 minutes is one thing. Riding all day is another . . .

Until then!

~KM

Riding at night part II

The crescent moon shone through clouds on a warm August night as Nicole and I rode through the streets and bike paths of Manchester. From our vantage point the moon looked like a charcoal sketch or a well-woven tapestry. It wasn't just for aesthetics; it was also a relief from the heat.

Frustrated with the persistent heat and humidity that just will not go away, Nicole and I have taken to riding at night for the last few days to log in some necessary base miles for the long trip. And I have to say, it's fun.

Visibility is not a problem. My nightrider X2 is all I need to see and be seen. Nicole's cateye el-450 works well, too. We've got rear lights, spoke lights, and headlights. Unless Ray Charles is back from the grave and driving a car (as he was known to do on occasion when he was alive) we will be seen.

There are also fewer cars on the road. It's a more relaxing experience. No need to worry about sunburn, either. I wonder why I don't do this more often . . .

Wal-Mart plans to build a supercenter on a Civil War battlefield; we decide to visit Gettysburg

The title says everything. This bike trip is a once in a lifetime venture, and nothing like the wacky business ventures of Wal-Mart to magnify the importance long lasting value as opposed to perceived immediate gain.

Traveling to Gettysburg is going to take at most two days out of my itinerary, but it's clearly well worth it. The preservation of our Great nation deserves constant commemoration. There are some things we should never forget.

To be clear, Gettysburg is safe--for now. Wal-Mart has its sights set on what was once the pristine Virginia wilderness. This area was once so wild that the name of the battle was simply called--you guessed it--Virginia Wilderness. The National Trust for Historic Preservation has more on the story here. In all likelihood, we may visit the Wilderness (also known as Fredericksburg -Spotsylvania National Military Park) on the way down as well. It's only a about ten miles off our planned route.

Finis Coronet Opus. The End Crowns the Work. Nicole and I have decided that the trip will take eight weeks as opposed to the original seven so that we can take time to appreciate all that we are seeing.

~KM

A rare day off from work means a day on the bike

I had the day off this past Saturday--a rare luxury in the world of retail. I took advantage of the lovely morning by taking the lovely Nicole to West Hartford Center we we picked up her birthday gift (a lovely, fancy-schmancy longsleeve hiking shirt at REI). Sadly, Nicole did have to work that afternoon. My plan was to drop her off in Wethersfield, ride to the credit union so I could deposit my check, and then ride home by way of the Rocky Hill Ferry.

Ah, but the best laid plans of mice and men . . .

Well, it wasn't a complete disaster. Once I got to the credit union I realized I didn't have a pen to write out the deposit slip. Urg. I thought. This meant either buying a new pen or riding a mile and half up two steep hills to get back to the car its treasures trove within. A deep breath. A few thoughts in my head. I'll save the money and get the exercise, I figured.

After this unintended bonus warm-up ride, I rode through scenic Old Wethersfield, past the Town Green, past Spring Street pond and its cadre of Canadian Geese and onto Old Main Street in Rocky Hill.

The hills aren't so rocky anymore, courtesy of suburban development, but the hills are there. I crossed a bridge over an inlet to the Connecticut River and felt some fatigue as I reached my first post-bonus warm-up hill of the day.

Damn, I thought, I'm hungry. I hadn't eaten since breakfast and I didn't want to buy any food from the gas stations that I'd passed. (They are an interestingly freakish concept: processed corn for your car, processed corn for your food. All they need is processed corn in lieu of Tobacco and they've got a tri-fecta)! I guess I'll stop at Gardner's market once I cross the river, I thought.

These thoughts were interrupted--politely I must add) by a friendly cyclist. "On your left!" He alerted himself.

Damn. Painfull as it is to admit, it hurts my ego when someone passes me while riding a road bike. A road bike is lighter and faster than a touring bike, though they look quite similar at first glance. I was carrying a rear rack and panniers packed with a change of clothes. I was riding at six--count 'em six miles an hour. He had every right, even the duty, to pass me.

"How are you doing," he asked politely.

"Eh, I'm allright," I said, as he passed me. Though polite and collegiate, my warrior mind shifted into racing mode. I stayed pace tightly on his rear wheel as the top of the hill flattened out. It was only a year ago that Old Main street was my bicycle to and from work. Like a pro, I knew the course well.

Midway through the next incline, I attacked. My GPS showed me going a respectable 18 miles an hour as I powered of the grade. I could see that he was way to stretched out on his bike to ride that speed--too long a reach compromises ones ability to steer the bike at high speeds. My inner beast probably set a record for my touring bike and me across Old Main Street that day.

Arriving at the ferry landing was also much quicker than the days I rode to work last year. There was always sort of a Murphy's law going on when I was commuting. 9 times out of 10 I would have just missed the ferry as it chugged out to the Glastonbury side, hoping that I could make up for lost time on a 350 foot climb up Chestnut Hill.

Today was perfectly timed. The ferry was boarding just as I rode in. About half a dozen or so cyclists had the same idea as me and we all boarded together. The wind off the water made for a relaxing breeze as the ferry chugged us to South Glastonbury.

From there it was off to Gardner's market. I picked up some trail mix and pedaled to Hopwell Street. I stopped on the side of the road near to re-nourish but felt awkward eating in such a manner. I better get used it. Instead I convinced myself that half a bag of trail mix would be sufficient. I mounted the bike and soldiered on, up a 350 foot climb towards home.

On the way I saw a swimming pool near Cotton Hollow Preserve. I looked at my panniers, knowing that within a month I'll always have a bathing suit and towel for such an occasion.

The half-bag of trail mix was barely enough to get me back, though. I could ride up the hills, but I found myself coasting down instead of pedaling hard, as I usually. I'd spend a lot more fuel than I should have chasing down that cyclist in Rocky Hill.

Lesson learned: half bag ain't gonna do it next time. And try not to race anybody on a road bike.

~KM

Riding at night

The days grow shorter, bit by bit, everyday after July 21st. This Thursday marked the first time all season that dusk greeted me as I went about closing down Bicycles East. Nicole had called earlier asking if I needed a ride.

"Of course not!" I said, a bit insulted. "I rode to work and I'm riding home."

"Okay," she said. "But there is rain in the forecast tonight."

"Oh." I said. "Well if it rains, I'll call you."

The rain held off, so needless to say I didn't call Nicole. At 5 after 8, I was turning off the lights at Bicycles East getting ready to ride home--alone--when I heard a voice.

"Oh yeah, you wanna look like a U.F.O. out there."

Nate was commenting on Nicole's 500 candlepower Cateye headlight. She quietly and nonchalantly rode in, hoping the rain would hold of so we could ride together!

In a moment of privacy though, Nicole voiced her concerns.

"I'm already tired," she said. "How am I going to do this trip?"

"You're tired because you worked a long day, not from riding your bike."

"Yeah, well, we'll see." She remained unconvinced.

I'll start out slowly, I thought to myself, as we ride home. Nicole had probably pushed herself on the way here, I reasoned. I figured a nice leisurely pace back home would leave everybody feeling swell.

This relatively slow pace (about 10 miles per hour) didn't last long. As dusk turned to nightfall, sporadic raindrops interrupted my plan for a leisurely ride. I wondered to myself how I could appropriately ask to Nicole if we could pick up the pace.

Fortunately I didn't have to.

"Can we go any faster." she asked with urgency, "I don't want to get wet!"

Fair enough. Like a horse out of the gate, we both pedaled hard, closer to our usual 15 mph. The few and far between droplets of rain increased to a drizzle. Words can't quite describe what it's like to see 210 lumen's of light focused on a few fleeting raindrops, other than to say it was intriguingly spectacular. All of a sudden, we didn't mind if it rained harder; it was kind of relaxing.

Aided by Manchester Road's steady descent after the Country Club, we coasted around 18 mph back to the apartment. Nicole felt a little less apprehensive after the ride.

"Don't tell anyone," she said. "But now I feel energized."

Relax darling, your secret is safe withe me. ;

We've now got four weeks to go. Crunch time.

~KM

Still no front rack

More than one week, and I still don't have a front rack for my bicycle. A company called Tubus has a steel rack that appears to be disc brake combatible. Arkel has an aluminum rack--just as strong--but it places the load on a higher center of gravity.

Given that the Tubus rack is sold out, it looks like I'll be sticking with Arkel rather than change out my brakes. I promise I will have a decision for myself by Monday. For real this time.

In the meantime, it's been fun and convenient using Arkel's rear panniers. The GT-18's are great due to their size, multiple compartments and quick release attachment mechanism. It definately cuts down the time it takes to prepare for a ride--always a good thing when I have to leave to or from work. It's sort of like throwing everything in the bed of your pickup truck as opposed to carefully placing things in the "trunk" of a '66 Mustang that has a rebuilt '70 Ford pickup truck engine in it. (Did I mention that my bike is like a truck? It is).

So that's where things are. Nicole and I will probably take a leisure ride this evening to stay loose. We have less than five--count -em, five-- weeks to go!

~KM