today with Suzy Dees (whose name I totally got wrong in a previous post) at Bloomington Cycle and Fitness. Even though Laura, my ultra supportive friend, wasn’t able to make it today, it gave me an opportunity to come out of my shell a little more. I know, you’re thinking “Cheryl has a shell?!” Yes. A cycling/exercise shell. I had some nice conversations with folks, got a little more proactive about learning about my equipment, and  pushed myself just enough to feel “vomity,” which is apparently our main goal at the training rides At the end, I rang my bike’s bell, which apparently I need to warn people of in the future.

Training news of note today:

1. I should probably buy a heart rate monitor because although I can pat my head and rub my belly simultaneously, I cannot count my pulse while spinning.
2. My toes were only a teensy bit uncomfortable today, so I’m doing something different/better with my feet pressure (which may have to do with wearing my orthotics around the house more). I also recognized another reason why bike shoes are important: the Dorkmaster 1000s have GIGANTIC laces. I will catch them in the gears soon enough.

Awesome moment of the day: I put the back rack of my bike to use by balancing my water bottle on it during the entire ride. And it didn’t move/fall off. Smile.

I’ll miss next week’s ride, unless I can high-tail it back from outta town in time, but will soon enough pick the bike up from the shop and be able to ride is elsewise.

This week has been a week of “fittings” for the trip.

It started on Monday with a follow-up appointment to the podiatrist. I wasn’t so sure about this guy based on my last appointment when I had to push him to have me fitted for orthotics. Maybe he didn’t want to recommend anything unnecessary, but, when I am having joint and nerve pain in both my feet, one would think that situation might, at the least, require some action (like maybe actually looking at my feet?! OK, so he finally did, and then left me with a nice bruise where he tried to find the source of my nerve pain. Can’t blame him for that, tho, cuz I do bruise pretty dang easily.)

A month later, his nurses tried to fit me in the orthotics, but they wouldn’t fit in shoes. It was *then* that they told me orthotics wearers usually have to go up a size in shoes. (I thought: you mean to tell me I just spent $400 on orthotics that my insurance won’t cover AND now all of my current shoes are useless?! WTF?!) So I spent two hours at the shoe store, and *none* of the ten pair of tennis shoes I could find that might fit me — including a size higher at 10s, 10 wides, with and without the insoles, and so on –  would accommodate the custom orthotics. Great. I had a pair of $400 paperweights.

There was “good” news, however. I’d forgotten that I had bought a pair of tennis shoes in Dublin, soon after the foot pain started, and I realized that walking miles and miles on cobblestones in my Danskos was not going to work. After what seemed like an excruciatingly long search for shoes — at three stores across the street from each other, which Laura insists was the shortest shopping trip she’d ever been subject to — I bought a pair of big, fat Sketchers. I called them my marshmallow shoes because they seem ginormously puffy to me. Plus, they are silver and a weird metallic pink color AND have fake rhinestones. Seriously, I am embarrased just thinking about them. I paid my 60 Euro and wore them with (hopefully, for my travelling companions) minimal fashion complaint the rest of the week.

I was tempted to leave them in the hotel room when we left Ireland because they were so dorky, but Laura shoved them in her endless-room suitcase and carried them dutifully home for me. She’s a good friend. ;p Fast-forward to the post-orthotics shoe-shopping (also excruciatingly long, after having tried to fit my orthotics in every pair of Rykas and Reeboks and Adidas in the Size 9 and 10 aisle, to no avail), and I remembered that I had my dorkmeister marshmallow shoes in the back seat of my car. So I tried the orthotics in them, and they actually freaking fit. (Of course they did. Sigh.)

The Dublin Dorkmaster 1000s (aka my marshmallow shoes)

My “prescription” was to wear the orthotics for a few hours every day to build up tolerance, until I could wear them — in 2-3 weeks — all day long. The problem was this: I never really got to break the orthotics in before my month-later follow-up appointment. It turns out I never wear tight shoes when I’m working from home because I am sitting most of the time. And since I’m only teaching one class this semester, I’m almost always at home. I only got to wear the shoes and inserts about 4-5 hours max for 4-5 days. (Also, I would only wear them to the gym or while running errands or cooking, because THEY ARE THE DORKIEST SHOES ON EARTH.)

I reported this information to my podiatrist on Monday, and he has required me to wear the Dublin Dorkmaster 1000s *every day for the next month*. Ugh. He also informed me that orthotics work best in “lace-up shoes.” I’m not sure he sees the masogyny in that. The women I know don’t typically wear lace-up shoes to work, unless they work at a gym. I’m feeling real good about this doctor, letmetellya.

So, on Wednesday, I had to run errands in deep snow and didn’t want to get my Dorkmaster’s wet, so I tried the inserts in my Doc Marten boots, but they don’t really quite fit. That was a school day, so at the end of the day my feet hurt so badly that I could barely walk upright. (On a related note, I seemed to have won the war with my mattress! Fingers crossed! No more back pain!)

Finally, also at the Monday appointment, I asked the podiatrist about two other issues that had cropped up in the meantime. In reading the cycling book that Cheri loaned me, it recommended full-length inserts for cyclists, which my podiatrist poo-pooed. He also poo-pooed my buying/wearing cycling shoes for the trip. Hrm. He actually told me to adjust my stance on the pedal so that my foot didn’t hit on the ball but on the arch. Perhaps my look of disdain surprised him, but — even though I know nothing about long-distance cycling — that seems about the most ridiculous advice ever. Even 10 year olds know you don’t pedal with the middle of your foot. You get no leverage that way.

All of which Scott confirmed this morning when I went to the bike shop to get my bike adjusted just for me. I told him what the podiatrist has said, and Scott looked me directly in the eye with the same disbelief I gave the doctor, and then gave me about 17 examples of how cyclists can have adjustments made to their shoes and pedals to make sure they have the proper alignment when cycling. He even used some special leg-o-meter measurer thing (which I can’t remember the name of) to measure the angle of my leg when I was cycling so that he could properly adjust the seat height and position for me so that I had the bset leverage on the pedal. (It’s shocking how such seemingly tiny adjustments can make such a HUGE difference in both comfort and performance.) Of course, Scott and I both  acknowledge he’s not a doctor, but my foot guy may not be doing me any sports-medicine favors. I’ll try another training ride tomorrow and see how things go, changing one thing at a time until it’s all right. And that includes the doctor.

Just got back from my first ride on the new bike, in a training class with Susie D. at Bloomington Cycle and Fitness. PS: The bike ROCKS, and everyone said how cool it looked. Yup The ride was 45 minutes, which is the perfect length of time for me. I tend to get bored with exercising more than 45 minutes at a stretch. However, this class was far from boring! Susie D., who also teaches a 5:30am (that I will never attend) at the Workout Company on Friday mornings, called out all these different intervals for us and then would get everyone’s heart rate after each interval. Even though we didn’t “go” anywhere, it felt like we were all in it together.

Of course, it wasn’t all pretty roses. My butt was sooo sore during the ride, even with the chamois panties. Laura and Caryn tried to convince me that this would get better over time, and Dana confirmed that it was true. I sure hope so! In the meantime, I may need to buy something more substantial than these little padded briefs.

After the class, I was sad to leave my bike at the shop but decided that it would be in my best interest for two reasons. Before class, I realized that I would be gone for most of March and wouldn’t be able to use the trainer that I would buy. But, I reasoned, that if I buy a rack for my car, I can take my bike with me to the three or so stops I have to make in March. And each stop has “bike people” who will maybe ride with me! [Yes, I will be emailing or Facebooking you!]

So, I’ll get a bike rack instead of a trainer, for the time being, and Caryn said it would be OK for me to leave the bike at the shop for a few weeks. This has several advantages to bringing it home.

1. I can keep it out of the weather (and avoid the crazy thought that someone might steal it!) but still use it by visiting the bike shop and taking it out for rides. I can also use it during training rides, which they have on Tuesday nights (although with people way outta my league, but who cares?!) and hopefully more on Sundays. So that’s like 2-3 times a week of riding, which is good for the time being.
2. I can hold off buying the trainer or the bike rack for my car until March 1, when I get paid again. Also the rack is cheaper.
3. The bike shop can use my bike as a “model” for others. Seeing one of the Hauls on the floor is better than having folks look at it in the catalog, so maybe the shop will sell more while it’s there for the next few weeks.

And, finally, here’s pictures I promised, with Caryn and Scott.

Today I attempt my first ride on my new bike. It’s an indoor ride on trainers at Bloomington Cycle and Fitness. I’m washing my chamois panties and reading through the copy of The Complete Book to Long-Distance Cycling that Cheri let me borrow. I made the mistake of starting at the end of the book, which is typical for me, and reading backwards, which would have been fine except that all the weird medical stuff was at the end, and it made me nervous. (How will I ensure “Crotch Comfort”?! And prevent the dreaded vaginitis? Ugh. Thankfully, the book has multiple, useful suggestions.)

And then I read two things that made me excited for the ride today:

(1) Training in one’s unfinished basement, where it’s cold, is perfect for wintertime. Since I have plenty of space in the basement (oh, but I have to get rid of the Weider gym set-up that I can’t use — anybody want it?) and storing the bike in the basement instead of outside might make me less nervous, I may end up getting a trainer after all, if I like today’s ride, which I plan to take pretty easy (especially since I think I injured my good shoulder by going back to the gym after a two-month hiatus. Crap. I don’t want to put too much pressure on it until I figure out what’s wrong).

(2) The book has a whole, encouraging chapter on riding 50 and 100-mile rides, with training suggestions for those who already have bike experience (6 weeks) and those who don’t (me; 12 weeks). 12 weeks training to ride 50 miles?! Totally doable.

After the ride, I will post pictures of the Haul, me, and the bike crew who is responsible for getting me this lux equipment.

One of the most pleasant memories I have of my preteen and teenage years is spending it on a bike, riding the bike paths in my neighborhood for hours. Those trails seemed to snake to nowhere, and it was the first time I had the chance to experience getting lost and then finding my way back home again — a feeling I cherished and still do because it challenged me to watch landmarks and street names and to hone my sense of direction.

I would ride all the way down my street, take a right, then a left, cross a semi-main road and head into the neighborhood across the way, where the trailhead started. That neighborhood was older and had a lot more trees than mine did, so riding the trail, which ran partially along the backsides of a set of houses with the trees canopying overhead, was a wonderfully wooded, serene experience from the rest of the asphalt suburbs. It was my time to explore and think. I would be gone for hours, on the black 10-speed bike with neon highlights that my parents bought for my 13th(?) birthday. It wasn’t long before I knew all of those trails by heart and could take them all, without backtracking, in about two hours.

I would also ride my bike to school, just under two miles. The public school busses didn’t pick kids up if they lived within two miles, so I had no choice but to bike (or walk, and I was usually running late, so walking wasn’t really an option). I don’t remember whether that black bike was a boys or girls frame, but I do remember the frustration of catching my long peasant skirts in the gears more than once. I ripped a lot of skirts, and derailed a number of chains. I started wearing long johns under my skirts, so I could hike the skirts up around my thighs while riding, but steering one-handed proved a little too dangerous. So one cold November day, I skipped the skirt and showed up to school wearing long johns and a pair of Montage boxers (apparel fundraising for the school’s literary magazine…) pulled over top. No more torn skirts! I’m still surprised that (1) I had the nerve to wear that outfit, and that (2) I didn’t get kicked out of school. So I kept doing it, and if I remember, others did to. (Maybe I copied it from one of the cool girls. But my story sounds more plausible.) Riding a bicycle with a skirt has always been a priority for me, especially in the summer since I don’t prefer shorts and own lots of sundresses. It’s a little challenging in Illinois, though, because of the gusty breezes. I believe I may be investing in some skorts pretty soon.

Sadly that black bike was stolen when I was in my early 20s and had moved to a rough part of town. Stolen bikes are a theme in my life, and are always my fault… although I am at a good 15 years without incident — a trend I’d like to maintain. Soon after, Fred entered my life and changed my relationship to bicycles, turning them from mere transportation into nameable compatriots with personalities. In fact, my biggest challenge and my biggest concern with the new bike is naming it appropriately and having it stolen. This bike will be Fred’s girlfriend. She’s kalamata olive-colored with subtle brown trim, similar in build to Fred, but sturdier and lighter. I believe she’s French, which is ironic because my car is also French (Gigi). Perhaps they are cousins. Tomorrow, I get to ride her for the first time, and I cannot wait! This time, though, no long skirts. Goofy padded grandma underwear (~$24) that’s cycling-specific, capri yoga pants, and my cuty short black polyester skirt with the geometric shapes on it. I think the bike shirt I bought (although not at all flattering) might even match! hehe.

When I bring her home tomorrow, she’ll be properly locked to Fred, who is simply too heavy and cumbersome to move when attached to something else, and it will be time to start figuring out the name.

The Dream

Last night I dreamed I already had my new bike and that I was riding it around the neighborhood, and to Champaign, and to Lake Evergreen. I imagined I was on Route 9, on my way to Purdue, with friends riding alongside me in cars and in bikes, and we were all taking video blogs and doing voice-activated tweeting, and the sun was shining and my hair was blowing in the breeze (as if it were long!), and smiles were all around. It was a pretty ridiculous commercial going in my head, and I ate it up.

It also made me realize that cycling can, but doesn’t have to be, a solitary thing. And that’s important for me to realize mainly because I don’t like not being good at whatever I do, which is why I often don’t like new group activities, especially ones I have no control over or little expertise in. But, on this trip, while there could be others (and may, in fact, make for a better adventure if there are) it’s still up to me to get there.

The Budget

Today, I made a cycle-buying budget. This weekend I struggled to make sense of the need to buy a dishwasher with the need to buy a bike. The dishwasher felt “necessary” for home maintenance while, in my good protestant upbringing, the bike felt “superfluous.” But it didn’t take long for me to realize how silly that kind of thinking is. This goal isn’t a whim. The decision to buy both, if I can, isn’t a rationalization to spend money I shouldn’t. It’s an agreement with myself to make this trip happen, barring any unforeseen circumstances. And I’m happy to report that my budget says I can do it (thanks to some speaking engagements this year — bonus that I get to talk about my research and teaching!).

The List

When I went to the bike shop on Saturday afternoon, I asked Caryn to help me make a list of everything I’d need to make this trip, assuming I didn’t have to carry much gear and that there would be folks to carry it for me (which I have). Here is the list, with approximate prices. I include the prices not to whine about the cost (which I admit I have been doing for the last week), but to offer it as a rough estimate for anyone else interested in taking on this kind of journey. And also to document my knowledge, even in small increments, as I learn more and get closer to “take-off.”

Globe's Haul, the bike I'm considering buying for my long haul to C&W (see link for citation & review)

• touring bike: $450-700
• shoes and pedals (the kind that lock together): $100
• bike shorts w/padded ass (hehe): $50
• bike capris w/padded ass (hehe): $75 (since the ride is two days and it may be cold in May)
• cute little skort to wear instead of the bike shorts w/padded ass: priceless.
• short-sleeve top with UV: $80 (I bought this on sale for $40. It was my first purchase
• wicking socks: ?? (I have to find nonbinding ones…)
• vented windbreaker w/UV: $80
• water bottles (polar ones, 24oz each, refillable): $10 each –> $20
• cages for water bottles: $7 each –> $14
• trainer (for riding my bike indoors before it gets warm enough outdoors): $180
• helmet: $40
• UV protection underhat: $20
• lights (two, detachable “frogs”): $30-40
• inner tubes: $5 each –> $10
• EMT kit: $40 (or just the tool: $20)

This is the list we came up with based on buying the Haul (pictured above), which already comes with front and back lights, a rack for gear/paniers (which I already have), kickstand, and a bell. Because bells are important. Total? ~$1300 (based on the Haul as the bike I get). That’s about the same I spent on a trip abroad last fall, and this adventure will be equally as memorable, and with equally important, albeit different, long-term advantages. The things in italics are things that I may put off buying unless I can’t borrow them or decide I really really need them. I’m not convinced about the shoes/pedals, but I’m sure someone will tell me otherwise. If I’ve left anything off that other riders know they couldn’t do without on a 100-mile trek, please let me know. Oh, I already have gloves and paniers.

I’m so giddy!! I really can’t wait. A *million* thanks to Caryn (and Scott and Carlton) for helping me make the list. I needed that sense of cohesion to get my head around this project.

After a month of hemming and hawwing, I finally carried my butt up to the bike shop (aka Bloomington Cycle and Fitness) to talk to Caryn and Scott about what I’d need to make this trip possible. My goal for the day was leaving the shop with a list of supplies, including prices, so I could tally and see if it would even be financially reasonable for me to attempt this trip.

My budgetary concern, which I’m worried (read: know) is a mask for trying to get out of this trip, is real and involves un/related issues such as my “oops I forgot to renew my student loan forebearance” snafu this past month, my dead dishwasher, and the new custom orthotics I just got (and still have to pay for). I reaally don’t like to talk about money, so let’s just say that all of the above items have my savings wiped out through March, so emotionally jumping into this trip is hindered by the fact that I literally don’t think I can afford it. And I’m mad about that because cycling should be for everyone — and it is, if it’s ol’ Fred we’re talking about. (Fred is my current bike. Pictures to come.) But Fred will not make it to Purdue (or, rather, *I* will not make it to Purdue if I’m riding on Fred). I can’t even make it up the hill on Ladies Ride Night with Fred because he’s a beautiful steel-framed, 1950s, Sears, single-speed, beach cruiser with pedal brakes and a newspaper basket. Fred rocks. But I need a new bike.

Luckily, I know bike shop owners who can help me decipher all the mechanics and purchasing of bicycle things that I will need for this trip. And that’s the scary emotional part for me. Because I know there are things I will need for a 100-mile trip that have never occured to me, like wicking underwear, and I also know that cycling IS a specialized sport and that some bike shops in town are just mean and rude and snotty to folks who aren’t specialists. (And, no, I’m not talking about the brand.) I am not a cycling specialist, and never plan (at this point) on being one. I just want to be me but I want to ride a bike to Purdue. And then we’ll see. Scott and Caryn get that. And they know me, so they also know what I’l like in a bike. They showed me a catalog with the Haul in it, and I think I’m in love. I have to do more research, but thanks to BCF, I have a list (which I will offer in another post) and a place to start.