JWG 3/15/2004

Would we keep riding if we knew this were as "good" as we were going to get?

If we knew this were the high watermark of our cycling existence?

Leaving a muddy mark on the farmhouse wall for all to despise?

That we were destined to doing corn-cob centuries on roads that are bumpy, boring & busy.

That there were no golden fleece, no yellow jersey, just hammering to always be a nobody but still fit into a set of 36 jeans -- happy just the same.

Would we be as the Oak, straight and true to the cause?

Or would be like the Willow, bending under the weight of our own lack of talent?

Do we look at those who charge dragons with reckless abandon as heroes?

Do we see them as anything less when they are swept off of their horse by the passing blade of the windmill?

I don't, hammer on, charge ahead, ride to stand still! "Go not quietly into that good night."

That we should ride for the simple joy of being on the bike and by doing so there is intrinsic value in each turn of the crank, in every breath we take, in every beat of our hearts.

There are those who don't "get it," I feel sorry for them.

 

 

Splendor Of The Majesty

Shadowcat 3/15/2004

On Saturday I found myself rolling along on an easily navigable stretch when suddenly a hawk soared across the edge of my peripheral vision. I looked up and found it coasting the currents at the same pace as myself. I got to watch for a few moments and my mind drifted to the powers of evolution and adaptation, watching the gracefulness of a fellow creature experiencing his own slice of happiness on the breath of the wind.

 

 

Photo by Kincannondale

A little farther on, I was riding a dozen yards behind a couple biking brethren when I realized that one can never truly appreciate his/her own form while in the middle of a ride. I watched the pistons of propulsion firing up and down, transferring power from the sinews of the quads down through the pedals to the chain and axle. The lungs moving in and out while underneath a heart beats faster to deliver the demand for oxygen. The dynamic of the human on bike is a beautiful masterpiece of art in motion.

 

A prairie dog community up ahead, and the critter closest to the trail definitely let it be known to his family that "large potential danger was arriving at quick speed". I chittered back at him in my best prairie dog-ese to let him know I had no intention of disturbing his system of tunnels or the small pups being nurtured in their hollows. Maybe in 10,000 years they'll understand what I was trying to say.

 

And after ranging some good distance to the east, our group heads back west across the plains, directly facing towards the Rocky Mountains. From a good enough distance, you get the two-fold view of the lower foothills with the snowcapped peaks behind them. It is humbling, it is inspiring, and it makes you forget you are even breathing as you revel in the splendor of the majesty. We are small and meaningless on this planet, yet it is this same human race that can create the bicycle and take it to the vistas where we can contemplate the grandeur of the universe.

 

 

 

On Turning in a Crosswind

BowWow  3/18/2004

 

 

Pistons pound - power plays across the howling road
As shreaking shards of icy stark glaze the pave.
Hush! The wren's sweet warb carried 'long the gasping air,
Suddenly floating silently, gliding with sweet rush -
Spin spun thru motionless moving mass
And power turns to pleasure in the following gale.

 

 

 

Pastime

Adapted from a poem by King Henry VIII by Kincannondale 3/18/2004

 

 

Pleasure And Pain

Shadowcat 3/18/2004

 

Look and do you see
Yes, that diamond upon axles.
The gift of life's energy
Makes friction under rubber
And so sets in play
the pleasure and pain we crave.

 

 

 

 

 

Crest of Hill

Kincannondale 3/18/2004

 

Come hither yon crest of hill
orb of fire challenge my will
weight of man and machine add toil
Continue, least I fall upon the soil.
Soft green grass beckons me to the ditch
She calls Come, rest under skies azure.
Nay I resist, a higher gear I do switch
standeth upon pedals, a dance so sure
Heavy breath and backward glance
continue the long and painful dance.
Angry canine giveth thy chase
sport drink landeth upon thy face.
Legs pain and heart doeth pounds,
gears and chain sing delightful sounds.
Perspiration from brow to eye
Dark pavement surrender the sky,
challenged on this extra mile
Crest of hill, awaken my smile.
Cool drink quench this dry thirst,
switch gears to ninth from first.
Down upon saddle, now I rest.
having passed this obstacle's test.

 

 

Winter Ride

Shadowcat 3/18/2004

Frosty breath upon the morn
is there heat in yonder sun?
I ask my trusty balaclava
should we go and ride as one?
Yes it cries from bottom drawer
I do not like the spring!
You get to ride all through the year
For once, let me take wing.
Use me, bring me,
the cold will have no power!
No thanks, I tell my saddened cloth
I'll just wait an hour.

 

Hell Hound

JWG 3/18/2004

‘Lo hill I crest my heart races faster,
thinking of God's great gift
as the acid builds in legs of alabaster.

To the right I just happen to glance,
and there I see your face and
our eyes meet one another just by chance.

My sight sharpen fast on the scene ahead
legs spinning faster in a lower gear,
alone do you fill my heart with dread.

From the porch you leapt imposing & dark,
as the smell of fear filled the day
from a deep chest I could hear you bark.

Accelerating hard I sprint for my life,
thinking of my safety,
my family, my future, my wife.

The angle was yours as you drew near,
hot breath on my flesh,
on my mind, my voice raging with fear.

I cut across lanes to buy myself time,
for with an oncoming car
victory would have been not mine.

 

 

My Bike

Kincannondale   3/18/2004

A mechanical marvel this bicycle of mine
of gears and chain, cables and spokes,
rubber tyres and bars wrapped in cork
a brightly painted frame and matching fork
colorful lycra clothing not worn by most folks
a Giro helmet and Oakley's that do look fine.
Human energy converted to mechanical power
derailleurs, cogs, and the large chain rings,
so many wonderful bright shiny things
feel the passing wind at several miles per hour
If only this seat were moved up just an inch
I only wish I had on me, that 5-6 allen wrench.

 

Stopping by the Shop on a Windy Morning

Sratboss   3/18/2004

Whose ride it is I do not care.
The Bike is in the repair shop there:
It will not see me stopping here
To watch the tires fill up with air.

This 'other' Trek must think it queer
To stop without a rest stop near
Between the stores and frozen street,
The coldest morning of the year.

I give my frozen feet a shake,
and ask if there is some mistake
The only other sound's the groan,
Of howling wind and downy flake.

The ride is cold, in the dark I sneeze,
And Oh the lungs will surely wheeze,
With miles to go before I freeze,
With miles to go before I freeze.

adapted from Robert Frost's "Stopping by the woods on a Snowy Evening" 1923
 

 

Loss of a Friend
Kincannondale   3/18/2004

Don't fail me now, oh ring of aire
for complete, my journey tis not
This breath released, gives such despair
a pause not which I had sought

Release thee wheel, from frame's embrace
Twin tire levers upon thee I use
One holds fast, the other in quick pace
rubber and metal, their bond they lose

Oh Presta tube, for thee I do mourn
I pull your lifeless form from tire
With a gentle caress, I find thy thorn
your demise caused by such a small wire

So many miles we once did share
I miss thee yes, but not distraught
Think not that I was so unfair
not a patch, but a spare was bought

tire and wheel joined in careful haste
new Presta tube held in their embrace
Time for my journey shall not be waste
oh bronze cartridge bring joy to this place

With cold breath, it brings back to life
this precious ring of aire on wheel
delivering me from my momentary strife
Oh bliss! This rolling motion I do feel.
 

 

The Chase

Landshark 3/19/2004

Eyes fixed on the blinkie ahead
Catch it I will, tho' my legs be dead
No thought at all to partners behind
Suck wheel if you must, this one is mine

Gap closing steady, lungs heaving so
Why did I eat that banana? I think I may blow...
Chain getting tighter, I wish it would break,
And save me from being like "The Fox and the Grapes"

Sun still below the eastern horizon
My heart screams "Can you hear me now?" like the dude from "Verizon"
A hundred yards apart, prey drive kicking in
Whizzing by Denny's, Do I smell bacon?

You'll not get away, in my head an evil laugh
Blow by you I will, or TWIST THIS FRAME IN HALF
Closing fast now, victory in my sight.
Once again I have passed-an elderly lady on a tryke.

 

An Ode to Intervals
Landshark  3/19/2004

Hark!! What light through yon window breaks
It is the east, I've overslept. I'm late
No time for warm-up, straight to LT
By body's not happy with that, it's not filled with glee
One interval down, only four more to go
If I gave up now, would anyone know?
No one would know, certainly not care
But the guilt and the shame, would be more than I could bear
Interval 2 over and done
Now wasn't that special? Wasn't that fun?
Rest interval 2 over, man that was quick
Why am I doing this? I must be flipping my lid
Number three begins, this one is hardest
My brother plays golf. Which of us is smartest?
Rest interval 3, gasping for air.
Like a bass on the floor of a boat, it just doesn't belong there.
Number 4 begins, monitor screams it's "You're not working hard enough" low limit warning
Why do I do this? So early in morning?
Last one to go, then they are over and done
Completed! Finito! I've beat them. I've won
Now to turn around and head home the way that I came
Sigh. Might as well do them all over again.

 

Break Away

Shadowcat 3/19/2004

The corporate office is so stuffy
I would not change in there
I've got to find a discreet spot
To bare my derriere.

The truck cab is so very small
I hate these daily fights
But since the bike is calling me
I squirm into my tights

The special socks, my jersey too
the sun block's been applied
Gloves and glasses and a helmet
When will I get to ride?

The tire pressure is okay
the brakes are working fine
I finally start to ride my bike
When my thighs begin to whine.

I rode too much the day before
I needed some more rest
To hell with that! I cry out loud
I have to pass the test.

There is no test you silly fool
You made it up yourself
You ride like mad with grand delusions
That you are top shelf.

You are not Lance, you are not Hammer
You have to take a chill
No way I tell that inner voice
Look at that lovely hill!

...All the gear and all the checking
Just to crank out miles
The soreness and the tired legs
Turn into great big smiles.