Mileage As Measure of Sport vs Transport

I was chatting with someone who wanted to know whether I was predominantly a recreational cyclist or a transportational one, and their criterion for determining this was mileage: how many miles I cycled for sport vs transport.Earlier I had seen an online poll that used the same measure - which made me wonder whether this is the de factoindustry method for determining how cyclists see themselves. Do manufacturers conducting market research use mileage to understand what kinds of bicycles would be more in demand?



Even if I factor in the winter months, on average I cycle many more miles on a roadbike than I do for transportation. But I still see myself as a transportation cyclist first and foremost for one simple reason: I actually depend on my bike to get around. Sure, roadcycling is fun and I love it. But cycling for transportation is necessary. I do not drive and I am serious about not being able to take public transportation: I did it a total of maybe 6 times over the winter, each trip followed by nausea and migraine. When it snowed too much to ride a bike, I decreased my travel radius and compromised: Instead of going to my preferred stores, I went to the ones within walking distance, and I postponed a number of trips and activities. In the end, it wasn't so bad. But it made me aware of how bicycle-dependent I am. So even if my daily transportation trips total less than 5 miles, they are more important to me than a 50 mile "training" ride on a roadbike. In my view, that makes me atransportational cyclist.



What do you think of mileage as a determinant of what kind of cycling you affiliate yourself with - would your mileage be congruent with how you perceive yourself?

Driving down the French Alps

Our winter sport holiday is now definitely over.





Normally it takes about 15 minutes’ drive from our chalet hotel in Le Crey to the valley in Aigueblanche, however with the snow aftermath and cars driving slowly, it’s about half an hour.



On the way down we saw busy locals manually ploughing the snow on the streets. We also passed by a bus that went off the road. Tough situation I reckon. Lots of dangerous things can happen after a heavy snowfall, especially in the mountains.



Convoying: driving slowly down the alpine zig-zagged road.



The bus that went off the road.



Here are the videos I took as we drove down the zigzagged alpine road:











It was a picturesque alpine drive. The mountains were immaculate and it was a bit hard to say goodbye after a week of winter (sport) holiday in this lovely part of the world. But life goes on and we will be both back to work on Monday. Welcome reality.



When we reached the valley, Dutchman and I saw the French police barricading the other side of the road and checking every car. No car is allowed to trek up the mountains without snow chains on. Its a standard protocol in the mountains when its snowing and after a snow deluge.





As we drove on the valley, we searched for a place where we can remove the snow chains from the car’s tires. Unfortunately removing the chains took us a while because these got stuck between the wheel. Nevertheless, perseverance paid off but not without increased blood pressures. Grrr. Sigh.



Removing the snow chains upon reaching the valley.



Beautiful castle ruins along the highway on the valley.



Driving back to the Netherlands was uneventful. We took turns driving, dropped by at a McDonalds for a quick eat (I do not like burgers so chicken McNuggets please) and we arrived home before midnight.



It was a loooooooong drive having left around 11 in the morning and there was only 1 thing that I wanted to do when we got home—Sleep.

Cosma

Change of Guards at the Hellenic Parliament

The soldiers guards the Hellenic Parliament, the Presidential Palace, and the Tomb of the Unknown Solder. This particular guard just had his makeup retouched ;-) I saw it!

Every Sunday morning an official change of guards ceremony takes place in front of the Hellenic Parliament and the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier. The parade of Greek guards dressed in their best frilly ABBA-like top impression with matching cheerleader skirts strut their way from the back gates of the Parliament down the avenue and towards the Parliament’s quadrangle facing the huge Syntagma Square. The parade is led by a marching band uniformed in white.


Soldier in traditional mainland uniform in front of the Hellenic Parliament, and next foto is the grounds of the Parliament with tourists waiting for the changing of guards on a Sunday morning.

The change of guards in front of the Greek Parliament happen everyday but it is only during Sundays when the whole ritual is celebrated with a marching band followed by a unit of traditionally dressed Greek soldiers. Around 1045 the parade starts from the back of the Parliament and at 1100 sharp, the change of guards commence in the square.

My friend Phil jokingly told me that we will have to be there at 1030 when there are no people around. I arrived 1030 sharp and the party already started! Loads of eager tourists lined the front yard of the parliament taking pictures of the guards. It seems everyone else have the same idea.

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This is the parade after the changing of guards ceremony took place. They are going back to their base which is at the back of the Hellenic Parliament.

I also noticed that the guards on duty have their own dedicated assistants interestingly dressed in guerilla fatigue outfit, who with their heavy duty rifles strapped on their backs you would think would be doing equally macho surveillance tasks. Well not – instead, they watch over these guards that look like toy soldier dolls displayed in a merchandising shop. They baby sit them, wipe their sweat, make sure their caps with tassels are arranged neatly and not blocking their eyesight, check their outfits constantly, and get this – retouch their makeup! Hmm, the Greeks take the tourists and their flashing cameras seriously.

This is the actual ceremony during the changing of the guards in the Parliament.

The soldiers are actually called the Evzones. They are said to be the elite of the Greek Army now part of the Presidential guards. You have to be the best to get recruited in this unit, be at least 180 centimeter tall / 6 feet tall (a rarity amongst Greek men), and lastly, I’ve heard, must be good looking.

Seeing the soldiers in their woolen leggings, cotton pleated kilts, and in the 35C heat make me perspire all the more! There are different varieties of the uniform I gather but the most popular of them all is the traditional mainland white which you can see in the fotos above.

Closer look of the guards taken on the backstreet when we followed them to the back of the Parliament.

Another interesting bit of inside information my almost Greek friend S who was visiting told me is their shoes. They are made of leather with wooden soles and a black pompon on top. Under the soles are nails, she said. That’s why when they do the strange march, legs up front and down, the shoes make this icky noise. It’s because of the nails! These nails I was told helped the soldiers climb up the mountains when they fought against the Turks during the Ottoman occupation.

Wow, all I can say is total basic ingenuity.

More to follow. Soon...

Minuteman Bikeway

The Co-Habitant and I finally took Marianne and Miles to the Minuteman Bikeway. The Minuteman Bikeway is an 11 mile paved bike trail that runs from the edge of Cambridge, Mass., through Arlington and Lexington, ending in Bedford.

The trail was built along the old Boston-Maine railroad line, which you can see a glimpse of in Bedford. This train car has been converted into a cafe serving hot dogs and ice cream to hungry cyclists.

What I loved most about the Minuteman Bikeway is the abundance of shade! I am one of those persons who burns horribly and gets instant heatstroke at the mere whisper of direct sunlight in temperatures over 75F. A bike trail that runs almost entirely under overarching trees is a rare blessing. I can come here at any time of day and do a 22-mile loop without falling into a heat-induced delirium!

What I did not love so much, is that the trail interrupts for road intersections. The cars were courteous, but still I dream of an endless bike trail without interruptions -- Is there an American version of the Danube Cycling Path?

I was warned that going on the Minuteman on weekends was not a good idea, as it gets congested with slow-moving families and joggers. But we went mid-day on a Saturday, and didn't find it too bad. Certainly less crowded than the Charles River Trail.

Conveniently, there are several cafes and grocery shops, and two bike shops along the trail. Pictured above is the Bike Stop, selling lots of nice used bikes in addition to new ones, as well as cold drinks and snacks.

And at the end of the trail is the Bikeway Source, selling new bicycles, athletic bike clothing and many accessories, including some neat grocery panniers made of bamboo. We were told by the employees that after the Bikeway ends in Bedford, there is an unpaved dirt trail that continues all the way to Concord. It is accessible by mountain bike, but only during dry weather conditions, turning swamplike when it rains.

The Minuteman Bikeway is a scenic 22-mile round trip trail that is useful for pros and accessible to beginners. Riding Marianne was great fun and the longish ride made me a lot more comfortable with handling her. The most difficult part was cycling to the start of the trail from our house, in busy traffic through Somerville. Those who live around Boston know that this area is not ideal if you are not 100% steady on your bike! As I've mentioned earlier, I am not comfortable riding a road bike in traffic yet, so this was a challenge. The Co-Habitant gallantly made it easier by riding and signaling in a way that made us both visible. I probably could not do it alone at this point. One step at a time!

The Provincetown School of Vehicular Cycling

We often take daytrips to the Cape in the summer, but avoid Provincetown, because it is both too far and much too crowded. However, last week we stopped by. For those unfamiliar with the area, Provincetown is a lively and quirky town at the very tip of Cape Cod, long associated with the arts and with freedom of sexual expression. The main street is lined with galleries, coffee houses, excellent restaurants, eccentric shops, theaters, piano lounges and dance clubs. Rainbow flags are aflutter. Tourists pose to have their pictures taken with drag queens. Ocean waves rise picturesquely in the background. Everything is relaxed and easy; everyone gets along.



We arrived with our vintage 3-speeds and found the town center absolutely packed. The photos don't capture this, but many parts of the long and narrow Commercial Street were filled shoulder to shoulder with pedestrians and bumper to bumper with cars. It did not look like we could walk through the center, let alone cycle. And yet, the place was full of cyclists. They were riding in both directions through the narrow street, blithely passing the slow cars and the meandering pedestrians with dogs and strollers. We got on our bicycles, and what an educational experience it was.



Imagine: Cars pay attention to bicycles and wait for them without getting angry about it. Drivers and passengers look before opening the doors of parked cars. Cyclists are non-belligerent. Phrases such as "Please, go right ahead!" and "Oh, sorry about that!" and "Thanks!" and "Hey, nice bike!" can be heard all around instead of what is normally shouted in Boston. Can this be Vehicular Cycling Heaven? Cycling in Provincetown - both through the center and through the wider roads with higher speed limits - has made me feel considerably more comfortable about sharing the road with cars.



We did not take many bike photos, but here are a few bicycles spotted in town. A colourful Electra Amsterdam with nice wicker panniers and a sunflower on the handlebars. I believe it belongs to a local painter.



And here is a Rivendell Rambouillet by the marina, complete with fenders, Brooks saddle, rack, lights, and handlebar bag. The owner was pleased and amused that I recognised his bike.



And finally, a solution to the "control issue" in tandem cycling: The Buddy Bike! Now both riders can feel like captains - though I assume this can only be done if the riders are roughly of the same weight.



For more about cycling in P-Town, read about Vee's bike date at Suburban Bike Mama.

Climbing Muscles? Perhaps

When I began to do long hilly rides, I acquired a nemesis: the Mysterious Pain. This pain would get me even when my legs were strong and my energy levels were high. It would get me when least expected, ruining countless rides and limiting my progress.




I have never experienced anything quite like it before. It wasn't so much of a pain even, as an alarming sensation of seizing, not so much in my lower back as below it. If you draw an imaginary horizontal line perpendicular to the top of the butt crack, the sensation was along that line, in two distinct spots on the left and right, symmetrical.




The first time I experienced it in earnest was during a 100 mile overnight ride to Maineearly last summer. It came on around mile 70 and was so debilitating I had to stop on the side of the road and stretch every 10 miles to keep going.




Mystery pains are a source of fascination to cyclists, and I talked about mine with a slew of local riders. At the time the consensus was that I had increased my milage too quickly and hadn't the upper body strength to handle it. So I spent the rest of the summer sticking to sub-100K rides, but doing them with more frequency to build up strength and muscle tone. I am not sure this had any effect. It may have worked subtly, but at the time I felt somewhat stagnant and dispirited. I wanted, very badly, to do longer rides. And I felt strong; my legs would seldom get tired on a bike. But this strange pain/ seizing sensation was like a brick wall I kept hitting:No sooner would I attempt a long ride with lots of climbing, it would return.




This Spring I began riding more than ever. Short rides, long rides, paved rides, dirt rides, club rides, brevets... I thought I was riding a lot before, but now I was practically living on my bike. Disappointingly, the mystery pain was still there - though I'd now learned to manage it with strategically timed stops and stretching. On the 200K brevet, I'd pull over on the side of the road every so many miles so that I could bend over backwards and do some quick twists before continuing. That was all it took to stop the discomfort for the next so many miles, so stopping was better than not stopping: If I did nothing about it and continued riding it would only slow me down.




Having witnessed this riding next to me on the 200K, my friend Pamela suggested that the problem could be insufficiently developed "climbing muscles" - something she herself had experienced at one time. Rather than related to distance, the discomfort could be brought on by long stretches of climbing - which are of course more likely to occur on long distance rides.




There were other suggestions from riding companions at this time: That my gears were too high. That my saddle was too hard. That my position on the bike was too aggressive. And that climbing seated was the real issue.




At that point I decided to take an aggressive approach and try everything. The suggestion that my roadbike position was causing the discomfort worried me, because I otherwise found it so comfortable. But a few strategic rides helped me eliminate that as the cause: I was able to bring about the same pain on more upright bikes (even my Brompton) if I used higher gears when climbing for a prolonged period of time. So gearing had a lot more to do with it than position. I now also knew for certain that the source of the problem wasn't the long distance, but the long, repeated climbs. In Ireland I found that I could bring about the pain within as little as 20 miles, if they were "quality miles" with respect to elevation gain.




In short, the climbing muscles diagnosis seemed the most probable. But how to develop them? I was not willing to go to the gym to work on my "core," and so far just continuing to ride the way I'd been wasn't helping.




Staying in Ireland took care of the problem. Here I did not continue to ride the way I'd been, but, with some guidance, began to do more focused riding - both faster and with more climbing - on a more or less daily basis. I learned how to use gears more efficiently. And I also finally learned how to stand out of the saddleand began practicing that every ride.




One result of all this has been a subtle, but significant transformation to my body within a very short time period. The changes to my legs did not surprise me - after all, that is what we expect from cycling. But I did not expect the changes to my midriff. My abdomen has gone flat and there are these weird thin horizontal muscles wrapping around the sides of my torso, front and back - where the "love handles" used to be,if you will. I have never had muscle definition in this area before, and it all looks and feels absolutely bizarre, as if my body isn't really mine.But existential analyses aside, whatever's happened it has solved the mystery pain problem. No more. It's just gone - regardless of whether I climb standing or seated, in a low gear or high. Just to make sure, this past week I've made it a point to do hilly rides without getting out of the saddle at all, like in the old days (meaning entire months ago). But that seizing sensation below the lower back is now just a memory.




So... climbing muscles. What are they exactly? I imagine some combination of abdominal and lower back muscles. For some they might be naturally well developed. For most they are probably average. And for some, like myself, they could be underdeveloped - requiring lots of work to get up to par. Happily, I love riding and doing this "work." And I love it that this limitation is finally gone.

Trillium flexipes

Trillium flexipes blooms concurrent with the emergence of poison ivy in this area.



The flowers aren't always standing up proud like this one -- sometimes they're considerably more droopy.



But the more erect version is generally considered "standard". People generally like it better, at any rate, when they don't have to go poking under the leaves to find the flowers.



The flowers never point up though - always out or down.

I like to note botanical names of things here, but most of the time I have to look them up. I'd love to go around referring to everything in Latin, but honestly, I haven't committed many of those names to memory. Except with Trilliums.

This flower's most common everyday name is Bent Trillium, though I've often seen it referred to as Nodding Trillium, Drooping Trillium, or White Trillium. But there are two other similar Trilliums (rugelii and cernuum) that are also sometimes called by the very same common names. I do like the evocative terms Toadshade and Wakerobin, and if they were used consistently I'd be happy to employ them. But to avoid getting lost in the common name mire it's always best to use Latin for Trilliums.

Most of the maps don't show this Trillium here. Flowers don't read maps though, and I've found Trilliums to be poorly mapped in general. That USDA distribution site pretends to take reports, but in my experience they just ignore them.

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Nice Trillium reference page here.

The Snowbirds Are Arriving

I've noticed this past week that the park is beginning to really fill in. I joked with Nathan that is must have turned cold everywhere else this past week. While I joked about it, it does tend to work that way. People stay further north until the cold drives them here. We would normally do the same thing. In fact, this is probably the earliest we have arrived in Florida and been able to watch as others trickled in.



The nice part about the park getting fuller, is that there are more pickleball players. I can't play on the mornings I work, and Nathan can't play weekdays. We have tried to play some on our days off.





It has been hot this past week, which means it is hard to play pickleball for very long without being exhausted. So I'm somewhat glad for the excuse of playing in the late afternoon most days. Donna works days, so she has been joining us at night too. Art and Heddy usually join us and they are great fun to play with. Julie joined us when she was here. And today one of my favorite people, Karen, joined us. We have had some great games because of the people that are playing.



Notice the low flying plane in the one picture. I'm not sure why he was flying so low, but I already had my phone out taking pictures so I went ahead and snapped the shot.



Austin and I saw a double rainbow while out and about today, and he tried to capture it with my phone. Can you see it?



Living the life in Sunny and Hot Florida!

Pyrgos, once capital of Santorini

Santorini is a very windy island and the motorbike is not really encouraged at all but many locals use this transport because the island is so small and riding around in a motorbike is the easiest and most efficient way of reaching point A to point B.



Right in the middle of the island stands this white mountain and from a distance it looks like a mound of salt or a whipped cream topping. White is theme of this place. A white village. White houses. White roads. White staircases. White walls. Yes, this is a white mountain village and everything is white here.



Moi in sitting in front of a Greek Orthodox Church. On the second foto, the little white crop mountain from a distance is Pyrgos.



So we checked the map to see the name of the village. It says Pyrgos. The little unspoiled white town with 500 inhabitants used to be the capital of Santorini. Upon closer look, I noticed that the stonewalls rounding up the mountain resembles that of a wreckage of an ancient castle. The village was built around the Venetian castle that now lies in ruins.



I did my customary exploration, getting lost in the narrow white winding alleys and being surprised at the pretty architecture in every corner that I turn to. The Dutchman on the other hand followed me obediently until he finally declared he has had enough and will be going back down to the rotunda where the square is located. OK fine. I went up further up, mounting on the steps, always curious what is there above waiting for me =)



While going up, I saw an old man resting, rather sleeping, on the steps leading to the castle ruins. He has 2 donkeys tied to a tree and on the little square he has some products placed on top of the table for sale: house wine, some grappa, and tomatoes as well. He was sleeping soundly like a little baby and I didn’t want to disturb him so I tip-toed passing by slowly.



When I reached the top I realized there was no castle. I mean no physical castle, just ruins and walls, and houses inspired by the Cycladic architecture that were built on the crest and around it. It was quite charming though because the ruins were left on its own, just leaving it as it is side by side with the new occupants.



I also found a café restaurant and a church, and from up there were beautiful views of the plateau. It was a perfect place to sit down and relax. I was actually quite tempted to order a drink and just savour the ambiance, but then I remembered that I am with the Dutchman who is waiting for me down at the rotunda square. Jammer.



Here are some fotos:



Such little door, wonder what its function.



It is very charming here, the little narrow streets and stairs leading to houses and churches.



White everywhere and the plateau towards Kamari, in the southern part of the island



On the right foto is an example of a Cycladic house.



The old man napping on the steps leading to the castle ruins.



His donkeys under the shade.



The old man's little store on the small square, and signs to the castle ruins.



The church on top of the mountain village and touristy souvenir shops.



More fotos of Pyrgos here: Pyrgos - Santorini, Greece



The Dutchman indeed was waiting for me patiently, sitting on the bench and looking like the typical tourist with his straw hat and orange shades. I told him to come follow me because I have something yummy in mind. It is 32C and the sun is glaring madly down at us on our sweaty scalps. We badly need a refreshing treat like a mouthwatering ice cream cone before hopping on the motorbike back to Kamari.