Then it struck me... why not give this whole "road riding" thing a try?
I had a route in mind that would start and leave from the door step. The idea of just pedaling right from home intrigued me, so I decided what to take for lunch and what I might also need as far as tools and additional supplies. I didn't want to wear a Camelback, so instead I dug out my ever so trusty Mountainsmith hip bag that I purchased years ago while in Colorado. Breckenridge was a time when I had no use for good hydration and miles upon miles of trail were explored simply with bottle in cage and jacket in bag.
My faithful companion:
I always liked this bag. It has plenty of compartments and cinches down nicely even with a good sized load inside. I used it to carry Luv's bagels and a copy of the local Summit Daily newspaper that was placed in complimentary news stands every morning throughout Breckenridge. I'd take them both home after a long ride and just figure out what might be going on in this small town. Jumping ahead a few years to my college education in Prescott when we were assigned to create a "detail" drawing with the objective to be as accurate as possible. The goal was to observe everything about the subject we chose and try to capture it with just led on paper. I chose this bag, and was pretty happy with the way it turned out.
The artistic effort:
This was to be the route:
I had a route in mind that would start and leave from the door step. The idea of just pedaling right from home intrigued me, so I decided what to take for lunch and what I might also need as far as tools and additional supplies. I didn't want to wear a Camelback, so instead I dug out my ever so trusty Mountainsmith hip bag that I purchased years ago while in Colorado. Breckenridge was a time when I had no use for good hydration and miles upon miles of trail were explored simply with bottle in cage and jacket in bag.
My faithful companion:
I always liked this bag. It has plenty of compartments and cinches down nicely even with a good sized load inside. I used it to carry Luv's bagels and a copy of the local Summit Daily newspaper that was placed in complimentary news stands every morning throughout Breckenridge. I'd take them both home after a long ride and just figure out what might be going on in this small town. Jumping ahead a few years to my college education in Prescott when we were assigned to create a "detail" drawing with the objective to be as accurate as possible. The goal was to observe everything about the subject we chose and try to capture it with just led on paper. I chose this bag, and was pretty happy with the way it turned out.
The artistic effort:
This was to be the route:
Take McDowell east to HWY 87 and up to Shea. I'd then weave through Fountain Hills and back out through the desert past McDowell Mountain Park. Eventually, I'd hit the tiny community of Rio Verde and pedal up "9 Mile Hill" to Alma School. Finally winding my way back towards Scottsdale... eventually following the bike path that starts at Shea until back home. I had no real concept of the mileage or the time it would take. I did however plan ahead and stuff my bag with a 6" Subway turkey sandwich, orange flavored Rockstar and some Cliff Bloks for good measure. Plus Micki had graced me with some new shwag socks from Thule... so I was good to go.
Argyle speed:
Click in one shoe, then the next and I was pedaling away. Strange to leave right from the doorstep. No prep or loading of the car. No mounting the bikes on the rack. Didn't even have to fill my Camelback. The riding was cool with temps around 70. Really nice after all those hot as hell commutes I'd been doing lately.
Argyle speed:
Click in one shoe, then the next and I was pedaling away. Strange to leave right from the doorstep. No prep or loading of the car. No mounting the bikes on the rack. Didn't even have to fill my Camelback. The riding was cool with temps around 70. Really nice after all those hot as hell commutes I'd been doing lately.
Things were going well until the long hill on HWY 87 just before Shea. ADOT had decided that this Tuesday morning would be a great day to spray the shoulder with a fresh coat of oil. Unluckily for me, they had literally just gotten started. I got to follow the truck as it spewed the toxic substance on the roadway. I now had a choice... ride in this unknown substance and feel the vaporous spray grace my shins and cover new socks black, or try and "tip toe" along the white line with rushed traffic flying by me at over 50 plus miles per hour.
I hate traffic, but I really liked these socks... so I practiced my North Shore balancing skills along the marker.
I finally passed the offending spewer of a vehicle and maneuvered my way past the sweeper just in front of it. It was a relief to have the shoulder back for my own and to see my blue argyle threads still freshly laundered.
First the fast socks... what's next? :
First the fast socks... what's next? :
I must say at this point I was pretty sure that long distance road cycling held little appeal for me. One just spins, or grinds away with not much else to do but pick distant landmarks out and watch them ever so slowly creep towards you. It was pretty boring and by the time I made it to Fountain Hills I wasn't really sure how much interest I had in completing my loop. Combine this with a strong headwind I had been fighting since pedal one. On occasion I figured I must just be having a weak day on the bike, but after checking tree branches and the occasional flag I was sure there was more to it then just being a little tired. I did think ahead and realize once I made it up "9 Mile Hill" I'd have almost all downhill back home with this bugger of a wind at my back. That would be nice.
Rough, cracked asphalt pummeled my 120 PSI Soma Everwear tires over and over again. Wrists started to ache a bit and hands were getting numb. This really wasn't that much fun at all. Then I saw this really cool statue of a horse and decided to stop and snap some pics. After all, I had no clock to watch and maybe this would be a good place to turn around anyway. Might even still have some time to hit some singletrack in the afternoon.
Creative sculpture:
Lot's of time and talent:
Excellent use of cutlery:
I felt a bit revitalized taking a few moments off the saddle and inspecting the craftsmanship of the piece. It was very well done and in my opinion was very true to form as far as the physical shape of a horse was concerned. The arch of the back and shape of the body had no flaws, and I always like looking at "junk" used by such a skilled hand. I was feeling better about this ride and decided to complete the loop regardless of obstacle. After all, the famous fountain was just around the corner and I had to at least get one picture of that for the BLOG.
Hydro-Pressure:
A short while later, I was past the town of Fountain Hills and heading into the desert. It was at this point I realized that unlike mountain biking with generally shorter distances comprised of loops, I was about to embark on a great distance with no real support or way out besides completion.
Now we're talking!
My adventure gene kicked in and I started to pedal towards Rio Verde. It was at this point that I realized something pretty different about road cycling. Unlike when I am pedaling in the dirt, there wasn't much to concentrate on rolling across the tarmac. I didn't have to correct my line or watch for rocks. There was no body movement or cornering technique to concern myself with.
I simply had to pedal.
I have always liked how the trail blanks out my mind through the necessity of focus. If one doesn't concentrate, observe what is coming next and handle it accordingly... they end up on their respective lid. There simply aren't any synapses left to start wondering about money or politics. The escape is in the distraction. The relaxation is found in the concentration of technique.
I have always liked how the trail blanks out my mind through the necessity of focus. If one doesn't concentrate, observe what is coming next and handle it accordingly... they end up on their respective lid. There simply aren't any synapses left to start wondering about money or politics. The escape is in the distraction. The relaxation is found in the concentration of technique.
But on the road I was finding a different meditative proposal. With out any technical aspects to concern myself besides basic balance and spinning, my mind could freely wander. And wander it did. I was creating, calculating, solving and questioning anything that happened to pop up. Memories, songs, visions and sounds were all being hashed out with little else to worry about. It was a truly pleasant experience and with this distraction the miles started to fly by (despite the infernal headwind).
Eventually I made Rio Verde and found a place in the shade to eat my lunch. Before locating the perfect spot however I ran across two massive birds perched on a rather small tree. While I am no ornithologist, it did strike me as a bit odd. Finding these two birds of prey relaxing within such a close proximity to each other. Maybe hawks... or maybe buzzards. I snuck out my camera none the less and snapped a pic for others to analyze. So, "make an assessment".
Glad I am bigger than a mouse:
A few steps closer for a more detailed pic and they were off. Both in opposite directions with almost the exact same angle of attack towards the sky. Maybe I was still in an artsy mood from the steel horse or all of my internal contemplations across the desert, but their actions were really quite striking. I could easily hear their massive wings effortlessly capture the thin air and carry them off across the scrub brush below. I hoped their skilled manipulation of the winds might some how inspire my legs to do the same.
I then found a natural bench under a shade tree. Unpacking my bag I realized right away that I had been very careless loading my lunch and had placed my RockStar above the now flattened and mushy Subway sub. Not very smooth I suppose, but I was hungry and didn't much care. I wondered how many other cyclists might have stopped for a break at this spot before tackling the big hill leading west out of the valley. I pondered as to how many of them might have downed a 16 ounce energy drink before such a climb. I surmised none, but drank it all up regardless in hopes the wonder beverage would stay in my belly until I crested the top.
Lunch stop:
Flat sub:
After the refuel, I checked my computer for distance. 32.55 miles so far. I guessed I was about half way done and figured I felt pretty good for the trip home. I had ridden a part of this Rio Verde hill on my mountain bike years ago with some friends as we tried to escape a summer thunderstorm that had begun to fill the singletrack we were on with rushing water. I recalled the hill itself had many vanishing false summits and was prepared for a long haul on my designed for a 9-mile-commute, retardo-ringed singlespeed of a bicycle. I had heard the hill was also 9 miles long... and that seemed like a long way to go all uphill.
Eventually I made Rio Verde and found a place in the shade to eat my lunch. Before locating the perfect spot however I ran across two massive birds perched on a rather small tree. While I am no ornithologist, it did strike me as a bit odd. Finding these two birds of prey relaxing within such a close proximity to each other. Maybe hawks... or maybe buzzards. I snuck out my camera none the less and snapped a pic for others to analyze. So, "make an assessment".
Glad I am bigger than a mouse:
A few steps closer for a more detailed pic and they were off. Both in opposite directions with almost the exact same angle of attack towards the sky. Maybe I was still in an artsy mood from the steel horse or all of my internal contemplations across the desert, but their actions were really quite striking. I could easily hear their massive wings effortlessly capture the thin air and carry them off across the scrub brush below. I hoped their skilled manipulation of the winds might some how inspire my legs to do the same.
I then found a natural bench under a shade tree. Unpacking my bag I realized right away that I had been very careless loading my lunch and had placed my RockStar above the now flattened and mushy Subway sub. Not very smooth I suppose, but I was hungry and didn't much care. I wondered how many other cyclists might have stopped for a break at this spot before tackling the big hill leading west out of the valley. I pondered as to how many of them might have downed a 16 ounce energy drink before such a climb. I surmised none, but drank it all up regardless in hopes the wonder beverage would stay in my belly until I crested the top.
Lunch stop:
Flat sub:
After the refuel, I checked my computer for distance. 32.55 miles so far. I guessed I was about half way done and figured I felt pretty good for the trip home. I had ridden a part of this Rio Verde hill on my mountain bike years ago with some friends as we tried to escape a summer thunderstorm that had begun to fill the singletrack we were on with rushing water. I recalled the hill itself had many vanishing false summits and was prepared for a long haul on my designed for a 9-mile-commute, retardo-ringed singlespeed of a bicycle. I had heard the hill was also 9 miles long... and that seemed like a long way to go all uphill.
At least the headwind would now be at my side.
That hill is crazy. It's endless with no way to tell which is the top and which is just another step up. It's almost as if you are riding across the circumference of the earth itself. I half expected to eventually make it all the way around and end up back at the bottom. The grade itself wasn't so bad however and I just spun along until at 41.55 miles to the tenth I finally found the true summit.
That hill is crazy. It's endless with no way to tell which is the top and which is just another step up. It's almost as if you are riding across the circumference of the earth itself. I half expected to eventually make it all the way around and end up back at the bottom. The grade itself wasn't so bad however and I just spun along until at 41.55 miles to the tenth I finally found the true summit.
No exaggeration there... "9 Mile Hill" indeed exactly lived up to it's name.
After that it was a fairly easy trip home. That headwind that was supposed to be a tailwind? Well, it switched direction literally as I started to go back home. I could almost watch the flags swing a perfect 180 degrees. Perhaps the road God's tired of this baggy short wearing, black T-Shirt and hip bag equipped rider rolling across their domain. Who knows... I just know it sucked, or perhaps blew would be a better way to put it. Stupid wind.
I got a bit tired towards the end. I needed more fuel and should have stopped to eat, but just wanted to get home instead. I came pretty close to a good BONK which I haven't had in such a long time... but pushed through a bit slower than before and made it back to the comfort of the couch.
All in all it was a good, long ride... which is what I wanted to do today. My legs are tired, but not exhausted. My shoulders are a bit sore, but not destroyed. I think ultimately my true cycling love will always be the trails, but I at least got a glimpse into why the road appeals so much to some.
I think I'll stick to shorter distances and time on the asphalt in general, but will keep my options open.
This particular loop was 69 miles long... in case you were curious.
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