CWS (Cycling While Sick)

I was a hypocrite yesterday.


The other night, I felt unusually tired after about an hour and a half of cycling.  Granted, it was on my fixed-gear bike, but I've ridden longer on that bike.  And I hadn't much sleep the night before.  Furthermore, I've cycled long enough to know that sometimes you just have "one of those days."


A couple of weeks ago, on Lovely Bicycle!, "Velouria" asked whether her readers cycled when they were feeling "under the weather."  In response, I said that sometimes it's better to wait until you're feeling better, lest you should exacerbate whatever's ailing you.  Besides, you probably won't enjoy the ride as much if you don't feel well.


Well, I ignored my own advice.  (Is that new(s)?)  After starting a good bit later than I'd planned, I cycled a familiar route down to Rockaway Beach.  Up to that point, everything was good, or so it seemed.  The weather was autumnally cool and breezy, I was riding Arielle and I felt fine.  And, the boardwalk and beach felt serene but not isolated.  There were a few people out, but they weren't aggressive in the way many in the summer crowds are.  Mainly, they were couples and families.

From there, I cycled more another familiar but favorite stretch to Jacob Riis Park and Fort Tilden, which was decommissioned some years ago and has some of the best beaches in the area.  I'm amazed at how many current and former military installations are located on prime real estate!  From there, I crossed the Marine Park Bridge to Brooklyn, where I cycled part of the Greenway that parallels the Belt Parkway to Sheepshead Bay.  Part of the Greenway is closed because it was washed away in a Nor'easter during the winter.  So, if you're not on a mountain bike, you have to walk for a couple hundred meters along a sand path until the Greenway resumes.  It was during that walk that I started to feel very tired, achy and congested. 

I got to Coney Island in time to see the sun setting and deciding that yielding to the temptation of an order of Nathan's fries wouldn't be such a good idea.  I actually started to nod off after watching the sunset; when I got back on my bike I felt spacy.  Although I had lights, I didn't feel comfortable about the idea of riding in the dark.  So I took the train home, where I had just enough energy to boil up some ravioli and mix in some of my homemade pesto sauce I have in my refrigerator.


Even after sleeping nearly ten hours--the longest sleep I've had since the night after my surgery--I still felt congested and achy when I woke up.  And my eyes felt like they were full of chunky peanut butter.  I knew it wasn't from the ride, which was just barely thirty miles and flat--and completely familiar.  And I was riding a responsive bike that fits me comfortably.  Given that there were no problems with the terrain or the vehicle, I can only conclude that I pushed the engine a bit when it needed some TLC.  


I should know better.  Oh well.  At least the riding was good.  And I was worried about reacclimating to a Brooks saddle!

First Autumn Ride

Every year, there's a moment when I realize I'm on a fall ride.  It usually has nothing to do with the calendar, for--as we know--the seasons neither begin nor end on the "official" date. The Autumnal Equinox comes on the 21st of September, or some date one or two days on either side of it, but the weather may be no different from that of August--or December.  Similarly, the arrival of the seasons has much to do where you are, geographically.  Autumn, or any other season, is not going to arrive or manifest itself on the eastern plains of Montana on the same day, or in the same way, as along the coast of Florida.


Although we've had some cooler weather during the last couple of days, today felt like autumn for the first time.  It had to do with what I saw while riding today:

Picasso had his "blue period;" today I took my Yellow Shot.  Although our trees are nowhere near peak,  and they're not in Vermont, they are lovely.   


I took the shot in Ozone Park, on a street called Aroine Road.  That road dead-ends into a place called Rocket Park.  Perhaps it has something to do with the how quickly the seasons go by.  (That's what you have to look forward to as you get older!)

Replacing Stolen Booty

If you saw yesterday's post, you noticed that I was on my Le Tour III.  And, a couple of weeks back, I mentioned that the seatpost and seat had been stolen.  The guys at Habitat gave me a seatpost and clamp that had been in one of their used-parts boxes; I installed it with the Terry Butterfly saddle I had on my Miss Mercian.  Someone else is getting the Butterfly; I am going to try a new saddle I saw on sale.

It's made by a company called Gyes.  I think they make the Velo Orange and a few other "own name" saddles.  The one I'm installing on the Le Tour is the Parkside model, which is very similar to the Brooks B67--which, of course, is a B17 with springs.


That means I'll again have all-leather saddles on all of my bikes.  A B17 is perched on Helene, and both Arielle and Tosca sport the narrow versions of the B17.


I'll admit that I'm starting with a certain prejudice:  The Gyes is on my mass-produced, beat-up LeTour (which I've decided to name Marianela), and the Brooks saddles are on my handbuilt Mercians. Although the Gyes has a couple of features that Brooks doesn't (e.g., the flaps of the saddle skirt riveted together underneath the main part of the saddle), I still expect it to be of lower quality and lesser workmanship and not to last as long.  That's another reason I put it on the Le Tour:  If someone takes this saddle, I don't think I'll be as upset as I'd be if someone took one of my Brooks.  


This should be interesting.  I haven't ridden the seat yet, but I expect it to at least by early in the coming week.