The Wurst Ride in Texas

It is time for a much-belated ride report from yours truly! The Wurst Ride is a tour of the Hill Country from South Austin to New Braunfels, which was held on Saturday November 5 this year. I decided to participate in this 60 mile hilliest on Thursday, November 3. Needless to say, training had not happened. Or preparation of any type - I didn't even know which bike to ride!

My preparation pretty much consisted of deciding to do the ride while drunk, going to a party the night before, then showing up that morning with the Surly and figured "Eh, screw it, if I SAG out I SAG out, I do this shit for fun." A friend of mine from the TNSR was the service director for the ride and when I spoke to him, he told me that you could register at the ride and everything would be cool.

At 5:30 am that Saturday I arose to find…..my ride (my sister) had ended up not coming home the night before. I shrugged it off, put on the kit I'd laid out the night before, made my smoothie, loaded up my bike and my bag and set off. I met up with the Sparkles-es and we headed to the start of the ride together. I walked up to the registration booth where I was…..promptly denied. I had a check in my hand, ready to hand over, and they actually refused the money. By the registration lady's own admission they couldn't keep me from riding the course, but wouldn't support me.

Not one to be held down, I hauled ass back to the Sparkleses, and Justin threw his stuff in my bag, tagged it with his number, and registered it as his bag. Task 1, complete. I had brought my own Clif Bars, two bottles for water, and had my usual complete repair kit with me, so as far as fast-fixes went I wasn't too worried. So I lined up at the start with everyone else, and off we went into a cool, windy morning….straight up hill.

If I hadn't been breathing so hard, I'd have probably tried to take some pictures, but my lungs and legs were taking priority at that moment because the first ten miles were all rollers. At five miles in - bam! I have a mechanical, in the form of the skirt guard coming loose and almost getting caught in my wheel. I spent some minutes on the side of the road, basically forcing the attachment points off, threw them in my rack-trunk, and got on hell-bent on catching up with all the cyclists who had passed me as I worked on my home-grown pain in the ass.

I wheeled up to the first rest stop, grabbed some water, peeled off my leg warmers and borrowed a pair of pliers to pull off the remainder of attachment points that had come loose mid-downhill, then set off as fast as possible (my competitive nature knows no bounds).

The second ten miles flattened out considerably, but what had previously been an annoying wind was becoming problematic. The GPS on my phone read my average speed as around 7 miles an hour - around half of my normal cruising speed in similar terrain. At around mile 15 another element came to bear - I hadn't used the bathroom at the first rest stop. I was surrounded by nothing but flat, open fields with not a tree in sight, so at the first large unmoved……shrub thing, I hid my bike in some tall grass, hiked out a bit into a field, and answered the call of nature (skills learned hunting and camping for the win!). In short order I was back on the road, but the wind picked up…..and never stopped picking up. I wound through neighborhoods filled with loose dogs, open fields, over cracks and through hill and dale and always, the wind was blowing and gusting.

At around 28.9 miles (by the GPS), I had a moment. I had been on the bike for 3.5 hours, going half my normal speed - every foot was a fight. I hadn't had the best of mornings. And I was going downhill, and when I stopped pedaling, came to a complete stop because of the headwind. I broke.

Well, actually, what I said was, "You know what, fuck this, I'm not having one bit of fun. I do this for fun. So if I'm not having fun, it's defeating the point." So I stopped. I waited. A SAG car appeared, and dragged me to the next rest point, an embarrassingly close distance away.

As I sat on the side of the road, I gradually felt my sense of humor return, as I remembered I have nothing to prove to anyone. So I asked a fellow rider to take a photo illustrating my state of mind at that moment.



So began phase two of my day: awaiting someone to take me to New Braunfels. We waited. We waited some more and came to find out that the winds had been gusting to about 30 mph from the south. The result of this wind was an extremely high number of people dropping out of the ride, and so an extremely busy SAG car team was having trouble getting everyone to the finish.

I sat by the side of the road for a total of about three hours (during which my phone died - turns out GPS is hard on the battery) when who should appear driving my SAG wagon but my friend from the TNSR. I cracked a beer in the back of the van on the way to the finish line. Once I got there, I found my friends, collected my bag, and my friend gave me his wristband, thus entitling me to beer and sausages. Then my friends, who had finished the ride, opted to take the bus home rather than go to Wurst Fest, gave me their admissions tickets. In short, despite the fact the registration lady refused to let me register, I reaped every single benefit of a fully supported Wurst Ride. She probably should have just taken my $70.

Thus fortified with beer and sausage, I swung back onto my bike and rode to Landa Park, where Wurst Fest is held. My total for the day - 31 miles. I drank the beer. I ate the Wurst. And best of all, I rode my bike.

Austin & Separated Bike Lanes

As a vehicular cyclist, one of the biggest complaints drivers often utter is that cyclists on the road are many things - dangerous, slow, inconvenient, reckless, in the way, or otherwise Not Welcome. While the classic (in America) striped bike lane through a residential area certainly adds to mobility and infrastructure, these routes usually wind through neighborhoods and have few to no businesses along them. The idea here is that you cycle down these designated cycling routes, then emerge into main areas to access businesses - at least, that's how I use them.

However, as we all know, I am in love with the northern European model of bicycle infrastructure - the separated bike lanes that follow main roads. Here in Austin, we have a few designated bike lanes that are separated from the driving infrastructure, but are still part of the road. The primary two are along 4th street in Downtown, and the Lance Armstrong Bikeway, a paved two-way bike boulevard along Cesar Chavez Blvd. To all drivers who describe cyclists in the terms above - when the correct infrastructure is present, you are hard pressed to find the average cyclist in the road. Why would we? There's a safe, dedicated spot that goes to the same place, from which I can access the same businesses and amenities, all without feeling the brush of death on the back of your neck.


There's nothing breathing down my neck!

I'm becoming convinced most American vehicular cyclists have the equivalent of Stockholm Syndrome - we've been held hostage and abused by traffic for so long, we don't know how to react when all that emphasis on bike handling skills, timing, and hyperawareness of our environment suddenly goes away. A separated bike lane feels so free, so friendly.



However, it's important that when we install infrastructure like this, it's done intelligently. To put it mildly, the roads of Austin are not made for the traffic volume they're currently experiencing. And I have no idea where to put all these people - our cities in America are only so dense, so the distances we must travel are (as much as I hate to admit it) far enough that sometimes your only choice is to drive. But when they put in infrastructure for bikes somewhere anyone would want to go, it gets used. My favorite example of this is the train. The two most southerly stations along the Cap Metro Rail are both in heavily trafficked areas by bikes. The largest number of bikes I've ever seen in my train car was 23 - also known as "a hazardous number in case of an emergency".





Among my favorite separated accomodations are pedestrian bridges. My most beloved here in town is Pfluger bridge, which crosses Town Lake just east of Lamar Blvd. Everything about it cries out livability, and I am including it both for it's practicality and beauty.

The only Skirtguard in Texas

Today I finally finished a project I started almost 2 months ago - I set out to create a set of skirtguards forbthe Surly.

For the currently confused, a skirtguard is a really, really practical accessory. They're basically panels that cover the upper part of your rear wheel, thus keeping flappy clothing safe and you looking ever so fly.

Behold what I have created!

Temporary Technical Difficulties

My computer has recently suffered some damage and unfortunately that more or less puts me on involuntary hiatus from blogging. At least, if I'd like to type it out on a device other than my phone. Once I get my computer fixed we should be up and running again, though!

Singin' in the Rain

It rained Saturday! Actual water fell from the sky while ominous thunder rumbled and the roof made a soothing pattering sound. To the rest of the world, rain is probably rather unremarkable. But here in the land of natural disaster scale drought, dryness, and heat, that evening and night's thunderstorm was enough to blow my hair back.

As biking days go Saturday was cool and different, not the least because of the weather. Here in my neighborhood I often hang out/mentor a little girl with her bike. I've shown her how to change a tire, how her brakes work, how to adjust her handlebars, and so on. This week was her 11th birthday and in celebration, I promised we'd go for a bike ride. Early in the morning my sister, Bike-Padawan, and I stuffed all three of our bikes onto/into my car and drove off to what I had settled on as the beginning of our 5.5 mile ride. We parked, de-stuffed our bikes, and set off for a Birthday Bike Ride!

Our route took us 2.7 miles down the super-smooth part of Shoal Creek Blvd from where we parked to the always-awesome Amy's Ice Cream. An indication of what was to come later in the day, we merrily rode through mist, exhulting in its dampness the way only people from drought country truly can. My Bike-Padawan made me proud- she shifted, braked, signaled, and crossed roads just like I showed her. My sister and I both got huge smiles every time we'd pass something cool and she'd yell "Look at that!"

Ice cream and a quick stop at the grocery store later and we re-stuffed the bikes onto/into my car and got Bike-Padawan home for her birthday party with her friends.

Now as most Austinites can probably tell you, yesterday was the Red River Shootout up in Dallas (that's the Texas-OU game for non-natives). A friend of mine came over to drink massive quantities of alcohol and eat various meats. Several hours of drinking into our day, it is revealed that someone needed to make a beer/snack run and since I was pretty much most of the way comatose, my friend was nominated for the job. He borrowed my lock, hopped on his bike, and off he pedaled to the beer and snack store while I did my best impersonation of a corpse on the couch. About 15 minutes into my nap, the phone rings.

It is my friend. Somehow, in the 10 minutes between locking the bike and checking out, the spare key to my bike lock I had loaned him fell out of his pocket, and his bike was now chained to a rack, un-unlockable with my brand new U-lock. In the time since he'd left, it had started seriously pouring out. By this point I'd been drinking for several hours and was in the middle of a nap. I dragged myself, my rain jacket, my bike, and a spare rain jacket out of the house and pedaled off into the rain for first time in months.

I haven't ridden in rain in months (mostly because it hasn't rained in...well, months). If I'd been thinking, I'd have taken pictures of my jacket, bike, or the conditions. Sadly I was mostly drunk and half asleep. Also, frolicking in the water. But I can definitely say that by Austin standards, Saturday was a cool day.

Welcome to the WORLD OF TOMORROW

The Netherlands once again astonishes me with their dedication to practical urban cycling. They have now launched the The Dutch Cycling Embassy. Holy shit, the video.

Cycling For Everyone from Dutch Cycling Embassy on Vimeo.

I very rarely make it through a video this long without getting bored, even one about cycling. What can I saw, I'm a child of the internet generation and my patience for content is about.....2 1/2 minutes. If I'm not hooked, I turn it off. I watched the whole thing.

As someone who is a very strong believer in the power of the bicycle to change the everyday lives of people on many levels, I want this embassy to succeed. Thanks again, Holland. We need you.

Keeping it in the Family

My new favorite biking buddy is my sister. Early yesterday morning, I called her up to see if she was awake yet and if she was, what her plans were for the day. I received sleepy grumbles for this effort and prepared to shuffle on about my day. 45 minutes later, I get a call back from her: "I can't sleep. What are you doing?"

Me: "Not much. We could go ride bikes, maybe?"
Sister: "I'll be over in a bit."

And thus we set off on the longest bike ride of my sister's brief (3-week) cycling career. Our first stop was to drop some things off at my Bike Shop of Employment, where we also scored a new, way more comfortable saddle for my sister. Between her relative inexperience at cycling and the fact Grey Bike's previous OEM saddle could better be described as an ass-hatchet, the cushy gelness of the Serfas we installed put my sister, in her words, "In Butt Heaven".





Ooooh, squishy!

Her butt thus cushioned, we set off on our grand adventure for a beer and lunch. Yes, it was 11 a.m. Yes, that could well make us alcoholics. No, I don't really care.

Anyways, we set off, my goal to show my sister the majesty of Shoal Creek Boulevard. Shoal Creek, if I haven't previously explained, is a road running through Tarrytown paralleling Mopac all the way south to around 31st Street. South of that it becomes a trail, but our destination was around 40th, so that is where we branched off. One of the beauties of Shoal Creek Trail is the shared bike/parking lane is the width of a regular lane. It also has a low speed limit, so up and down this road you see every stripe of cyclist there is to see. Fredtacular roadcyclists in spandex, recumbents, tandems, whole families out for a day together. We even saw a couple with a dog in a trailer tootling along together for lunch. It's an education in who can cycle, and how accessible it is because as an activity, cycling is so open to interpretation by the individual that anyone can ride a bike just about any way they want. Our preferred method is "Wearing fairly normal clothes, getting from A to B, often drunk."

Our first stop was the Central Market cafe on Lamar, where we procured a feast.


A FEAST, I SAY.

We sat, feasting, basking in the warm sunshine, drinking beer, and throwing bread to the crows who populated the tables with abandoned food in the fashion of a swarm. My sister took a moment to update her Facebook, "Annie and I riding bikes eatin Quinoa! Dude did I just say that?" Yes Sister. Yes you did.

We packed up the leftovers of our meal, made sure to leave some bread for the crows, and set off in the direction of home. As we rode north through the neighborhood we saw a handwritten sign in a front yard that sang out to us, "YARD SALE, EVERYTHING 1/2 OFF." Half price are the kind of prices I like! So we stopped and for a dollar, bought a flagpole and two pairs of groucho marx glasses.

We rode another few blocks and lo and behold, another yard sale! Another $2.75 later, and we are the proud owners of an original 1950s SaladMaster and a knitted glove which is meant to be used to dust knick-knacks. But here was the problem - we left the house with the intention of eating lunch and going home. My sister didn't have her basket, I didn't have my panniers, and we were already carrying a flagpole and a bunch of food.

We ended up bungee cording a box to the top of the rack on my sisters bike, and using masking tape to attach the flagpole to my bike as though it were jousting. We pedaled off, giggling the whole way. We got it home and hoisted my pirate flat out in the yard, where it warns off all who would plunder my booty (heh).



Yarr.