So last night I got home from work an hour early and hurtled myself into the bikeBasement(tm), head first, through three partitions and a large timber column. I was THAT motivated.

Drivetrain upgrade time!

So, I started by pulling all the Dura Ace parts off that I was replacing. It’s kind of cool to see both the changes in design philosophy over time, and the differences in problem-solving, especially in the rear derailleur design (I’ll do my best to avoid what happened to Andy Schleck, of course*).

As I was pulling the 9-speed cassette off of my wheel, I discovered I was missing a familiar-looking tool: The Park FR-5 rear cassette tool, which looks similar to a bottom bracket tool I have (well two) but wasn’t quite the same. This is where having a bike shop in Tam Junction comes in handy. I was able to get that tool and back to the basement in about 15 minutes.

Next up, moving cassettes. As you’ve seen from Lung’s videos on the subject (or will, once they are broadcast) modern cassettes come in a combination of single and group pieces. The larger three or four cogs, depending on the manufacturer, are carved out of a single piece of metal, in my case titanium, and then the remainder are single cogs with spacers. They have a specific groove design in the center and fit the hub body a specific way. There’s compatibility issues all over the place, but not for me: while the Dura Ace groupo I pulled would normally suggest incompatibility of my hub with this new cassette, in my case I got lucky, because the wheel I was using was not my ORIGINAL wheel, but a newer one retrofitted to use the 9-speed cassette. I had owned a Cervelo Soloist with a modern 10-speed Ultegra groupo on it (2006) and swapped it for this 9-speed Dura Ace from 97… I had used a spacer and adapter to make the hub work. So now, I was golden for using this new SRAM cassette. Nice! That doesn’t often happen to me…

The cassette comes on a plastic speedloader, much like the ballistic version of same concept. In my case, because of the gears I selected, I had to modify the speedloader configuration, but once I was ready, line up the grooves, slip slip and boom, ALL on. It’s interesting to see the newer cogs and their guide teeth with angled faces. Anyway, quick snap, we were good to go and get back on the bike.

Adjusted the rear derailleur, ran the cable (now the cable housing swings wide up and over the stays) and same with front, swapped out for my new 10-speed chain (swapped out my new 9-speed chain, mind you, grrrr) and set everything, and boom!

Next up, final adjustments. I spent another hour this morning trying to adjust the index shifting with little success. I’m going for expert help…

*If you haven’t seen the footage, Schleck’s chain popped off on his acceleration up the climb in the pivotal moment of yesterday’s stage. There’s lots of controversy about attacking vs. waiting and all this other stuff, but I was more interested in what happened mechanically, as I always am when pratfalls occur in the tour with these guys. They have the best mechanics out there and the best equipment, but the wrenching is happening fast, and sometimes things aren’t adjusted, sometimes parts fail, and sometimes riders err. I’m always curious what it was. In this case, we don’t really know but there’s a good chance Schleck jumped the chain on a heavy shift. The nature of SRAM derailleur design led to the chain drop. IF that’s what happened…

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This is a lot of reach here, but I love this OSHA warning graphic. It always reads to me as ‘no gear!’ like some sort of anti-road bike declaration.

Of course, fixed-gears have gears, I have road bikes, neither have two cogs grinding together, and even if they did, all we really need are more pie plates.

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As we talked about in our Aids Lifecycle ride reports, we came out fully prepared to deal with all sorts of mechanical calamity. We didn’t want to rely on the Cannondale bike tech support for our fixed-gears, in case they didn’t have the right tools for some of the components, so we packed full tool kits for overhauling the bikes. We brought tyres, tubes, chains, cogs, tape, brakes, electritole tape, everything. And nary an issue, other than a squeaky bottom bracket on Lung’s part. Of course, had I not replaced my cranks prior to the ride, it would have been a different story.

However, we did get quite dirty. These photos were taken after I returned from LA. That vinyl’s kind of gacho now! HA. Anyway, dirt is a badge of honor on a ride like this. I actually saw people cleaning their bikes at night. REALLY? I mean, I hardly clean my bikes at home. I lube and adjust the drivetrain, but dirt?

Anyway, here we are:

From my ALC Flickr set...

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3. ALC9 post-ride cleanup

Readers of the Team Lope Tyre Clubbe site surely know that Lung and I participated in Aids Lifecycle 9 last week. We wrote about our gear preparations, our bike builds (Tumbler and Crook, respectively) and rallied the troops for financial support, netting over $7K for the cause. You may have even gotten updates on our incremental progress via Facebook or email. Now that we’re back, we’ve written up individual ride reports in the Team Lope manner, and I hope reading them is less grueling than the ride was.

The Aids Lifecycle ride this year was nominally 545 miles over 7 days, thought it logged in at approximately 565 miles overall all told. Each day started before dawn, breaking down the tents in which we slept, gorging on breakfast fuels and usually making stops to medical (in my case) or stretching, and on the road around dawn, riding for 6 – 10 hours with a number of rest stops along the way decked out in some nutty theme (and several more stops, thanks to the persistent saddle sores we called ‘grundle sufferage’) before arriving wearily to the next night’s camp, to pitch tent and get organized, shower, feed and pretty much pass out. Some days were kind of thrilling, from scenery to challenge, and some were tortuously monotonous and exhausting. We traveled from the dense morning fog of the bay area, through lush forest, huge agricultural fields of strawberries and various other produce, to arid valleys of tilled farmland awaiting future plantings and flattened by ridiculous headwinds, to the welcome breezes of the beaches to the south. We met scores of other riders along the way, suffered no permanent or debilitating injuries, and I think rode our personal bests. And once in LA, we were consumed by emotion, but also that surreal sense of loss, as this week-long micro-culture of community, tolerance, endurance, struggle, variety and frankly suffering, bled away and the real world returned. I think I’m still trying to process it.

It sure started well enough! This pic above was taken on Day 1, on the way down the coast towards Santa Cruz. I had narrowly dodged calamity when I packed everything but MY EFFING SHOES, requiring my awesome wifebot(tm) to drive down to SF at midnight and deliver them to me at Lung’s place where we were crashing for what was supposed to be 3 hours or so of sleep before having to get up again at 3am to get ready and head out to Cow Palace (in my case, about 90 minutes of sleep). She saved my ass fiercely. Once ont he road, I think i was so overwhelmed by the emotions of the morning (the opening ceremony, among other things, involved all 1900 riders and 600 or so support staff gathering to watch the entrance procession of the Positive Pedalers flag guard (HIV positive riders, carrying banners commemorating the passing of loved ones and former riders) along with the infamous riderless helmets and ghost bike. It was haunting and everyone was bauling. Ultimately, while I did apply sunscreen liberally, I apparently didn’t put enough on my face, because some hours after passing out in Santa Cruz at camp at like 3pm, I woke with the most ludicrous sunburned lips. My face, ears, nose etc were all burned, but the lips, my word. It was like fat grapes with split skin. Other than that grundle sufferage that had us off the saddle throughout the day from the discomfort, this was my most persistent medical agitation through the rest of the ride. My lips proceeded to grow more and more swollen, cracked, bleeding, nasty, and were covered in Preparation H and Zinc Oxide thereafter (‘dubbing what the Team Hype boys called my ‘powdered donut’ problem.. and man, I COULD have used some donuts.) and while this was certainly an aesthetic annoyance, and often a painful one, these are the problems to have, I say, because other than the saddle soreness and some dodgy Achilles Heel issues, I was otherwise fine, and got the job done.

And to be fair, everyone was having issues, from splints to IT band fails to knee, hip, back, neck injuries, dislocations, crash injuries, alarming numbers of heatstroke victims, and on and on. I was so concerned about the risk of an IT band flare-up on my right side that I was very cautious throwing myself around on the road. I took descents with care, sprints only gradually, and is my usual manner, conserved energy each day for potential issues to come. Nothing could have prevented the saddle soreness, but Chamois Butter liberally applied sure eased the discomfort some. And while I tweaked my ankle on Day Three, and my Achilles pulled later that same day, despite that potentially crippling injury for a fixed-gear rider, I was able to keep it taped and in the right position, and kept the effort up with no further issues. All things considered, it was an almost unseemingly uncomplicated journey. We each had packed tyres, tubes, full kits of bike tools, extra chain, extra cogs, etc and didn’t have so much as a flat. I can’t get away with a ride around Marin without a dodgy mechanical problem. I was stoked.

This is a familiar image to anyone who read Lung’s first report on ALC from year 7 (2008) as this is the same marker on the same stretch of highway. Some of the route was the same, but some had changed since his trip. Many of the days were longer than expected, and some detours since ALC7 were strange sometimes, sending us into awkward riding situations, like seeing disorienting and morale-busting miles of climbs in view long before you got to them, or pushing us into bad wind or road conditions that perhaps weren’t there in 08. However, lots of these changes were actually corrections from ALC8 last year, which got some course route complaints AND suffered a rain-out. We were pretty fortunate in that regard. Some days were blisteringly hot, and some had breezes (and of course, there’s that 20 miles of headwind day) but for the most part, nothing too drastic that stopped riders, and though road conditions were often pretty terrible, what choice do they have? Californians don’t value infrastructure improvements in the state budget until they taco a rim or worse.

One challenge that i found interesting throughout the week was dealing with the mix of experienced and inexperienced riders. In fact, we were primed going in to be cautious of inexperienced riders who might swerve too wide to avoid a pothole or panic in gravel or freak out if you passed too close. In my personal experience, it wasn’t these riders that caused the majority of our caution, but rather the opposite: experienced riders who were overconfident, aggressive and inattentive to the others. A few teams routinely broke the passing rules and passed as entire pacelines at speed with little warning in unsafe conditions in the middle of traffic. These clowns made it difficult for US, so you can imagine how they made the newbie riders feel. It’s unfortunate that so many riders had the classic inability to visualize consequences of their actions, and I’m glad more riders weren’t injured. There were about three crashes of note (and scores that were minor) all on descents, but overall, a pretty good safety record this year.

I enjoyed passing quite a bit myself, when safe (though not the one time I didn’t see the car and freaked my fellow riders out) especially because of how different fixed-gear distance riding is to regular road bikes: we have to manage our cadences differently. We make ground most on the slight and moderate grades. Flats the roadies who have motivation get away from us in their bigger gears, and on very steep inclines, our slow pedaling MAY put us behind roadies who can turn em around faster. But as a rule, we passed most road bikes in front of us where gradients were involved. They gear down and spin, we HAVE to mash and keep going. It was kind of a nice morale boost for us, how much attention we got over the fixed-gear bikes, and while we lost a lot of time on descents (me especially, going slower and pacing the brake to save my ankle and such) overall, each day we were with the same general group of riders throughout the day, or ended up ahead of those we started with. I did NOT expect this.

A word about fixed-gear. We got a lot of love for this. Sure, many were bewildered as to why we would do it more than anything else, but for those that grasped the limitations of the bike, and the extra effort involved, we got a lot of respect. We would get cheers behind us as we passed and people noted our drivetrains. We got gasps and outcries on climbs as we passed riders struggling to stay on their road bikes, ranging from incredulity to awe to occasionally jealousy. Overall we got a positive reaction, which pleased me. I was concerned that we were a negative morale problem for struggling riders or what have you, or would look overconfident or conceited (though nothing was farther from the truth: neither of us knew how it would go or if we would even finish) but as a rule, we were a well-documented phenomenon. There were a total of 6 fixed-gears and one single-speed (with freewheel) this year out of a total of more than 1900 riders. That’s a bit more than .03%! We also got a lot of love for our recognizable Team Lope jerseys, so we would hear behind us either ‘ayyy fixies!’ or ‘go team lope!’ which was really awesome.

Some of the days were excruciatingly long, such as the century days and those under high wind that made everything that much more grueling and slow. I saw a lot of the state I normally miss when on the freeway: I never knew Los Olivos was such a cute Victorian-style town. I didn’t know Bradley even existed. There’s a lot going on not far from view on those all-day highway trips across the state, and it’s something I never really thought about before. Another thing: the agriculture. Most Californians understand that the state’s primary economic force is farmning. We supply the country, and much of the world, with a huge amount of produce. What was compelling to me was being out there WITH the migrant workers. I always tole anti-immigrant rabblerousers that they should be careful what they wished for (these workers are doing work others here refuse to do, or couldn’t handle, and they do it for very little) but it’s one thing to see pics or see them as you drive by, and another to RIDE by. Being in the sun for hours, being perpetually starved, dehydrated, exhausted and missing your family? You gain even more appreciation for the lifestyle these workers endure to put food on the table for their own, and send money home. It’s pretty profound, at least to me.

Last thing, the little things that were big delights:

Roadies: The roadies make everything happen. These volunteers are up earlier than us, in bed later, build the rest stops, serve the food, prepare camp, organize events, clean up, run support and SAG vehicles, and what’s more, do it with relentless enthusiasm and encouragement for the riders. Ever try to be YEEEEEE happy for more than 10 minutes? They do that for us for 10-12 hours. They honestly work harder than the riders, in my opinion, and my next participation in ALC will likely be as a roadie. I have so much respect for what they did for us. Even though most riders sort of spin by stone-faced and in pain or some zombie-like trance, you have to know, the roadies cheering you and rah-rahing at each rest stop, and the volunteers and guests who came out along the roadside up and down the entire route with homemade signs and treats? They lifted our spirits.

Positive Pedalers: Not a little thing, per se, but I have to note that every time I rode by a PP-jerseyed rider I had a ton of respect and emotion for them. To spend your days, effort, energy and such for this cause is one thing, but to do it afflicted? What a sense of pride in community and commitment to each other as symbols and participants. Amazing.

Chockamilk: I’m not lying, I hadn’t had any in years but consumed probably more than my body weight in delicious chockamilk on this ride. So much so I had to get more when I returned.

Chamois Butter: Before this ride, I’d never really done more than a squirt of Gold Bond lotion before a century. ON this ride, I used a glop of it at every rest stop and often more. It literally got me through the ride.

Fruit Gummies: of all the delicious ride snacks along the route, I stockpiled little fruit gummies the most. Not so much for energy, as they were just gummies (sugar and horse) but after feeding on an energy bar or peanut butter and bananas and oranges and so on, I would nibble on these as power pellets of motivation, just to keep me going.

New Tents/ Camp: we benefited from the lessons learned of last year’s rain, where they discovered the tents weren’t waterproof. We got brand new ones. Excellent. And frankly, easy to pitch, easy to carry, and a good design. I appreciate the ‘cinderella riders’ and their hotel stops benefited from better rest and hygiene (and sanity) but really I couldn’t complain about camp at all. The Port-a-Potties were overall in good condition, the food was plentiful, the showers had strong pressure and hot water, laundry detergent abounded, and the tents kept the outside out and the body heat in. The worst we had to deal with was wet clothes, and that was a factor of choice anyway. And, as someone nursing an injury for more than half the ride, medical services were excellent and appreciated.

Variety and Diversity: I really thrived on how much variety we enjoyed. Not in the roads, not in the food, but in the people. Different riders, different bikes, different levels of school spirit, fun rest stop themes, lots of flamboyance and cross-dressing and enthusiasm… I really loved being part of a small community where being a clown was encouraged.

And as we finished the ride on Day 7 in my old familiar haunt of Westwood and Brentwood, after two days along the coast, it was honestly surreal in it’s ending. You get so accustomed to the microcosm of recent experience, it’s almost jarring to have it end and realLife return, just like with any immersive camping or traveling experience I suppose. It was wonderful to see my wifebot(tm) and wee Z, my young daughter, at the finish line, along with my dear parents, and Raul, Silvia and Damon came out to see us and cheer us on. We got to catch up with several riders we met along the way, take photos, etc and then closing ceremonies and it was done.

I can’t imagine not being involved again. I don’t know in what capacity. We’ve talked about tandem trike recumbents, roadie work, who knows…

It was a very emotional and uplifting experience, and one of the most amazing ones of my life, I have to say.

Links:

You can see my Flickr Set of the ALC9 photos here.
Check out Ironlung’s photos here.
And read Lung’s ALC9 ride report, and his ALC7 ride report before that!

Team Lope shout-outs:

Remi and Magnus of ]Team Hype, our fixed-gear friends to the south.
Remi’s ALC9 Flickr Set

Maynard (pronounced May-Nard if you know what’s up) and Mannie Rabara, my e-friends before the ride and friends thereafter.
Maynard’s ALC9 Flickr Set

Ryan, whom I met through Maynard beforehand, along with MaryAnn and Ron, his brethren:
Watch out for helicopters!
Ryan’s ALC9 Flickr Set

Graham out of Vegas, chock full of optimism and radness.

Seth and the Stix family out of Nashville, presumably finally successful in his personal quest by the time he got to LA.

Friend Jefferson from local Mission Bikes, purveyor of frames to Team Lope East Coast member Joe at 718 Cyclery!

Ariel and co. who we met on Day on the Ride, who always motivated me with her rainbow riding socks.

Holly, Anna, Barbara, and the others we met throughout the ride! And of course, all the unmet, but recognized, smiling faces we saw as we went…

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The Dreaded CthuLoop

Frenchie and I took what was intended to be the last big ride in preparation for Aids Lifecycle 2010 on Sunday. Ole Left-Handed Looney Lung was staying home to recuperate from a long week, so we took the road bikes and headed out for a climbing and distance plan of some ambition, somewhere between Alpine, Stinson, Pt. Reyes, Nicasio etc or some combination of those. However, Frenchie’s crew was a bit taxed so after meeting me in Mill Valley, we agreed to forgo the big stuff and aim for distance, targeting the San Geronimo Loop. Additionally, while the wind had already brutalized those guys the day before, it was supposed to get much worse, which doesn’t make for tantalizing riding out on the coast without shelter.

Unfortunately, Frenchie’s lady love was burning out and had to turn back. I found out just as I got to the bridge, about 100m or so from the top of the San Geronimo pass, which bridges Drake with the flat stretch beyond. I had bombed up the thing in order to get some needed work in my legs, and was waiting at a turn off for the others, with Bobby soon joining me, before we got the call. So we zipped back down the hill (yes, when actually on geared bikes those descents aren’t the dread courses they are on the fixed, at least for me) and collected the others to ride back to a familiar point along the route in San Anselmo so that our exhausted compatriot could head home. At that point, I wasn’t too thrilled about going back and hitting San Geronimo again (I hate backtracking) so we decided to head back south and do Mt. Tam… but then thought better of it as the tourists would have it packed with SUVs (you have to start early on Tam) so ultimately we elected to do a spirited Paradise/ Strawberry Loop, and man, it was FAST. I mean not just rollers and descents, but even some of the crests… we really pushed it and it was refreshing. I haven’t been on my road bike since my last Tam climb and certainly not with the frequency of previous years.

Of course, what’s a ride for me without a dubious mechanical problem? On the first pass up Chapman, a steep, switchbacky noodle up the back (south direction) side of Camino Alto, I waited too long to chain to my 39 and then sprung it on the steep starting section. Sorry, can’t do that. My Look basically groaned, so I chained a few cogs up the cassette to try to even out the chainline, but it was too late: my bike basically made the mechanical clacking equivalent of "DAIIIIIIIIIISYYYYYY" and then the drivetrain locked up. Of course, just as too much fixie riding got me in that mess int he first place (I neglected to consider shifting at the appropriate time) the lack of fixie business kept me upright, as a locked up chain on a fixed-gear would be an asphalt embrace. I was able to get the chain in place, and resume catching up and onward in no time… but later as Frenchie and I pushed through Strawberry I heard more and more noise and certainly felt friction in the derailleur, so I stopped to consult, and hoooo buddy, what a mess.

The derailleur had bent open, the chain jumped out of the housing, skipped over the pulley, and instead of rolling smoothly on the pulley as it should, it had been neatly grinding away on the top of the housing’s guard plate. Check out that groove in this pic. I nearly sawed through the metal with my chain. A testament to Dura Ace, and certainly chain strength, to be sure, But wow. So we basically beat the thing into submission, and once the pulley was functional again, completed the loop. So, after ALC I have to start hunting for 2003 Dura Ace parts. ha.

Anyway, a good ride nonetheless and I certainly got my workout in. It was only about 45 miles for me, but fast up the climbs, and fortunately, the wind really didn’t pick up until we were both home and comfy (he had some wind up the grade and over the bridge, but that’s normal this time of year) and it began blowing like stink. Solid!

Barring a few shorter runs between now and then, next stop: Lifecycle!

Ride map and profile:
http://ridewithgps.com/trips/44188

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On Crook, I’m using the new Sugino Cog carrier system, which does away with the traditional threaded cog, threaded lockring and chainwhip, replacing them with a carrier tray/ cog/ lockring, held together and on the hub through the use of a Shimano BB tool. It’s more tool to carry than the fixie tool I have for the other bikes, but the cog change is like 33 times as fast, and the finger shearing risk from the chainwhip is gone.

To show you how easy it is to change these cogs, I took a few photos when I pulled the 16t off and added the 18t in it’s place.

The wheel, divorced from the frame, showing the lockring system. Grab that BB tool!

As you can see, it’s a big wrench. I got the smallest one I could find, for the road (and even then, thanks to the carrier design, only needed on a ride if you plan on changing cogs: the cog will not unwind itself) and a more robust one in the shop.

The lockring comes off quite easily given the surface area of the wrench grip face, and here you see that the cog pops right off the SINE wave channel of the carrier.

Pop the new cog on there quick-snap!

And it’s back into the drops!

Total time was about 3 minutes, including taking photos and preparing a Kaysuhdilla.

And I can’t reiterate this enough: NO CHAIN WHIP.

You can get yours here!

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Lung and I both participated in the Aids Lifecycle ‘Day on the Ride’ on Saturday, which is a one day trial of what the event as a whole is like: support, rest stops, general road conditions, but without the camping and tent-posting (thats what she said)… we each went in with a different set of expectations, but primarily looking to hang out, ride together, and test out our ALC bikes. We had similar positive experiences, though mine was fraught with some technical difficulty, but overall it was a great ride. We’ve each written about our experience. You can read his account here… and mine follows directly.

So, I’ve done a lot of long rides, on different bikes. The distance of this ride wasn’t the critical aspect. What was, however, was the bike, and my general fitness. All of the Centuries and Metric Centuries I’ve done for official events were on one of my road bikes, and I’ve gotten in 1 60 mile ride on Crook, my latest fixed gear, which, until Saturday, was my longest. But Day on the Ride was a chance to push more miles, on harder climbs, and see what worked and what didn’t. I went in with some assumptions based on previous experience:

Assumption 1: General fitness goes a long way.

Assumption 2: Crook is geared too high.

Assumption 3: My knees are still the biggest question mark for ALC.

The context of these assumptions is that I’ve been attempting to ride a big-gear fixie on a week long nearly-600 mile ride with less training and far less sleep, than to which I am accustomed, thanks to the birth of my lovely Zoe. So, while I know what my body can do at different times of a riding season based on the last several years of riding the same rides at the same times of year, I had variables this time which were the primary focus of my Day on the Ride experiment.

For example, since last June, I’ve been getting very little sleep, and very little rest. We have a baby, and that means not much of the real sleep time you need as a rider, and a scarcity of that chill time in your day to day. It also means far less actual riding than desired. Some years you get more in by now, some less, depending on the twin factors of rain and illness int he first quarter of the year. And to be honest, it’s been a mixed bag in that regard, and one I can’t complain about overall: I’ve been sick a few times (baby in the house, it’s a given) and I’ve had far less of the day to day riding of distance since I moved and have a shorter commute, and less big weekend rides due to baby tasks, but what riding I have done has been good for me: I have a shorter commute, but I ride more days of the week now, which is great for general fitness. The weekend rides I’ve gotten in have been solid, from Tam runs to long rides on Crook, so I’ve made the most of what I’ve had. So I was going into Saturday’s thing in a generally solid fitness level but below-desired training level for ALC. And that brings us to the next parameter: big gear fixie.

If I was planning to ride my Look on ALC from the start, I’d be far less concerned about the details. I’ve done 100+ miles, I’ve been through this through Lung’s previous experience on ALC, and I know attrition’s a bitch, so you deal. I’m inspired by everyone else, and I know my fitness level. However, the wild card here is the fixed gear. We each built up fixies, Lungs as his day to day bomber, and mine, Crook, specifically for ALC, and used daily in preparation. Now, as anyone and everyone we know will say, with either a roll of the eyes or a generally concerned look, doing ALC on fixed-gear bikes may not be impossible (more and more do t each year) but it sure is dubious. But we both wanted the extra challenge, and anyway, we love riding fixies, and are comfortable doing it. We get more fixie miles in these days than much else. But I knew that with my pre-existing knee condition, and the experiment of a bigger inchgear, I was asking for trouble. I knew also that I could gear down on ALC when required, by bringing extra cogs. So I felt like worst case scenario, I’d ride the big 82 inchgear for the flats, and then when things got bad on Day Three I’d gear down. Options! I had plans and backup plans. What I did NOT anticipate, however, as I freely admitted Saturday pretty early on, was that the general rollers on the days to come would include the climbs that Day on the Ride did. There were far more long, relentless climbs than I expected. We didn’t know what the route would be, both assumed it was going to be heading north, perhaps to Pt. Reyes, etc. but I thought that it was more likely that the majority of the riding would be general rollers. The five or six bigger climbs on Saturday’s ride were not CLIMB climbs… they weren’t like Alpine or Tam. But they WERE long enough, and hot enough, and distributed over a long day of generally fast, constant pedaling, that they were far more grueling for me than I expected going in for the day. Knowing early on what i learned later, I would have geared Crook down ahead of time, and since I managed to leave my other cogs at home, I was forced to ride it out on that 82 inchgear and make it work. The result? I have no regrets, and I’m glad I did it the whole way in that gearing because it was realistically MORE than I would have tolerated on ALC without gearing down. In other words, an ideal stress test, both for the bike and my legs.

The result of that stress, however, was enlightening. Everything I’d expect after a long day of riding like that was magnified. For example, my quads didn’t just burn that night and the next day, they were hard-to-bend bad. My back was like a steel plate. I was blown. Further, Crook didn’t like that torque much either. You really can’t expect much of that kind of abuse without ramifications. And it was enlightening: Crook ended the day with an alarming bottom bracket wiggle. Just like Villain had, my OTHER 82-inghear that I ALSO dragged up too many hills. So this was pretty much dual proof that my plan to ride 82 inches as my normal gearing was unwise with periodic hills of the nature we had Saturday: the bike didn’t like it, and my legs didn’t either. On the upside, I effing DID it. I figure there weren’t many riders out there Saturday that could haul Crook up those hills for 70 miles, let alone adding in 11 miles each way from my house near Mt. Tam, making a total of what, 92 miles for the day? GUH. So I had pride in what I accomplished, but I learned some important data.

Lastly, that effing knee. Again, put more stress on my knees than I have ever before, which is something. But while I used to have an IT band problem on my right leg for years of road riding, the last few fixie years I haven’t had any issues. Some tightness, some false alarms, but nothing bad. The fixed-gear riding encourages good form, which minimizes injury. And I have stronger legs than I ever have to date. However, what I did Saturday was a lot for anyone on that gearing. And my knees suffered for it. Interestingly, not during all those climbs, but at the end of the day, tired, dragging our asses up the effing beach and into the park. Thats when I started feeling that tell-tale pain. So, this gives me a whole new urgency towards my careful training in the next month: keep the knee together!

I loved hooking up with Remi and the boys of Team Hype (twin Cinelli Mash attackeds!) and I look forward to riding with those guys next month, for sure. Great to see Alfie on moto support, whom I finally got to meet physically. Great also to see the boys up top, rocking early 90s Looks just like I ride at home! AWESOME!

Lessons learned:

A. Need new Camelback reservoir. I will tolerate one and only one breached bag of sticky gatorade/water all over mah sensitive shit, especially when I tucked my cold weather gear up IN there right before, and soaked it so I couldn’t actually USE it when I needed it.

2. Bring even MORE ziplocs. That bag carrying small tools is what saved my iphone.

D. I brought 99% of my tools, supplies and sundries for the ride, which was great, given the packing and planning being as scattered as it is with a baby and other stuff going on. But that 1% matters too, and while maybe I didn’t forget something critical like CO2 or water, I didn’t bring cogs that had I packed as planned, I would have have used to down gear early enough Saturday that I would have been happier that night, for sure. And that error may have cost me big, if my knee doesn’t improve.

ff. Riding an event like this fixed is AWESOME, for the comraderie Lung and I shared to the friends we met doing same, to the respect from others (the vocal ones that appreciated the effort, not the largely silent disapproving ones, or the guy that gave me a bunch of crap about it after) and I still hope to do so in June, albeit with a more reasonable gearing.

5. Training, food, water, sleep: I can’t really control these variables as I have in previous years, but I can do my best, because they remain as critical as ever, for ride health, for cramps, everything.

S. Crook is one bad ASS bike.

8. The most important lesson: I was tempted to blame my knee issue on riding that big gear, but realistically, the big gear effort was merely the stress test that reminded me how that injury is permanent and ever threatening to resurface. The rational part of me is actually glad it flared up a bit now, to remind me. I was getting almost complacent about it, like as if that weak tendon had just magically repaired itself. And while on ALC I would have never been pushing long hills like that in that gear given a choice, it was a good reminder of my greatest concern about ALC in general: you’re out there for a week. Something goes wrong, you’re ride is OVER. And I want to finish it. So, I’m going to have to just see how May goes. I’ll gear Crook down, and ride more. I’ll do my exercises for my knee and back. i’ll see if it continues. But I’ll do what i have to do to get through ALC, and if that means falling back on the Look before the start of Day 1? I’ll do what I have to. It’d be disappointing, but I’d rather finish on the Look, than abort on Crook because of knee attrition.

So all killer, no filler, awesome ride and STOKED for June!!!! Because if I could do this on 82 inches, just imagine how I’ll feel on 75 or whatever. I’m pleased.

:::

I almost forgot to mention this, but I was BBQing last night, racing the incoming rainstorm, and I noted my half-finished bag of trail mix on the bedroom dresser just inside from where the Q is on the deck. That trail mix had a secret nukulur component: M&Ms. And on those gnarly climbs, when my knees where twisting inside out? Those M&M morsels were the best ever.

Double Rockstar Point for the support staff and food sponsors!

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Related posts:

1. team lope ride report – ALC “day on the ride,” IL’s account
2. team lope ride report – ALC9, the IL account
3. Team Lope Ride Report: The Napa Ride Weekend of Destiny 09

wow, talk about a super-niche product. the KIMORI FIXED-GEAR ADAPTER is a device that allows you to convert a freewheel road hub to a fixed-gear hub with room for two cogs.

i see a couple benefits, for sure. for one thing, it would allow you to train or event-ride your road bike in a fixed setup so that you had no muscle memory issues to deal with, swapping between bikes. but in that instance, you’re doing such a massive conversion (removing both derailleurs, probably one front chainwheel, and likely the rear brakes) that it becomes kind of a chore in my mind. at least reassembling all that shit does. for another thing, i could see it being useful in building out an old, unused road wheel for a brand new day, but then you’re limited to using that on a frame with 135mm drops. to that end, it would be a MUCH more affordable option than the ENO eccentric hub if you’re trying to convert a road frame for a fixed drivetrain.

but while i see the benefits, i don’t think i GET them. ENO makes a double-cog system for fixed hubs, in addition to a proper 135mm fixed hub that DOESN’T require you to run a dished rear wheel.

i’m not hating on it — someone will find a use for it. i just don’t get it.

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Related posts:

1. Bike Build Process Log: Villain- The Magic Gear
2. kimori front brake adapter
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This weekend, Team Lope member Cyclomania (known by most by his nom de plume, Eric ‘frogleg’ Gratacap, though that’s just to throw people off his true passions as a cycling…maniac…) arranged a ride with his better half K and a few friends, heading into Marin to get some more early-season saddle time, or as the kids call it, ‘junk miles’. Usually I cannot attend such things, saddled, to use that term, with honeydos and zoesdos and so on, but this time I got the necessary hall pass and headed out, needing some distance miles on this bike in preparation for the AIDS/Lifecycle ride in June. So far the bike’s been holding up very well, and with a few adjustments in the bar padding and the rear wheel/chain alignment, Crook has been a solid bomber, easily the tightest ride I’ve ever ridden. And by rise, I mean whip. And by ridden, I mean sessioned. Because as we all know, if you ride a fixed gear, you have to have skills both mad and displayable. My unfortunate lack of skid stop and track stand competency is ignored for the purposes of this ride report.

The gang’s plan was to do the China Camp Loop heading out from SF. I had done this a few years back so it seemed a good fit for my needs: getting some distance in to compliment the Paradise Loops I’ve been doing on Crook so far. I didn’t really remember the ride in detail, but I know everything from my home in Mill Valley to the San Rafael approach to the Civic Center, so I figured it would be fine. Worst case scenario, I’d turn back when needed. As everyone was riding road bikes, I was prepared to be dropped, but I tend to set my expectations low (I suppose in order to exceed them, ha) but really, pushing an 82 inch-gear around, you just never know what combination of distance and/or climbing that will cook you. On ALC, I’m bringing spare cogs, because I’m neither proud nor excessively idiotic*, so when the big hills come, I’m gearing for them. But the overall plan is to ride a big gear for the flats and rollers, minimizing revs and maximizing speed. This assumes I can keep steady on rides between now and then, not find problems in the knees, and keep the recovery down.

We met on the bike path between Marin City and Blithedale, and after a meet and greet, headed out. The ride basically bi-forks the Paradise Loop, just as any ride into West/North Marin from the south will. We were, as always seems to happen on weekends, taking Camino Alto right as a gang of other riders were hitting it, which is a scenario I like to avoid even when on a road bike (these days, many riders try to ride double or triple wide and not move for cars, then swerve into you when the SUV doesn’t accept this practice, or they slow you down by crowding the road ahead of you and chaining down into grannys or what have you. I like to set my own pace on climbs, particularly fixed, as I have so little flexibility in terms of cadence and gearing. So, once we hit it, I hopped ahead and got out of that mess as soon as possible.

That’s the thing about big gear fixies: any fixie has an optimum cadence (usually 80rpm and whatever speed you get is the speed you get) and a minimum necessary cadence for climbs. I’ve found, on road bikes, that I can, and generally do, eventually chain down to a tiny gear on serious climbs (in fact, my road riding style is opposite to this big gear fixie: I’m a high-cadence low gear rider, especially on climbs) and even if I have to tick them over slowly, I can still do it, even down to barely turning them over at times depending on the road… without fear of falling or stopping. And if I do have to stop, I can get going again on that gearing with about 30s of recovery time. But on the fixie, when you crank too slow, you stop. You just can’t turn em over. Unlike road bikes, you aren’t restarting after a necessary stop easily because you don’t have a tiny gear to get into. You have the gear you have, and since the minimum gearing for a fixie to be bearable is maybe mid-60s (in my opinion, and mine are all in the 70s generally) you’re still stuck with a heavier gear than perhaps you need to start up again if you were forced to stop in the first place. But anyway, what I’m getting at is that I tackle hills on a fixed gear the same every time: hit at the cadence I need to maintain to get over it, and just get through it. But something strange happens with a big gear fixie. It’s arguably inappropriate to take these over much climbing, right? I mean, when I put the same approximate inchgear on the carbon Look fixie project, Villain, I was initially figuring I wouldn’t be climbing at ALL. I just one day decided to take it into Marin and back when I lived in the city, and found that (with stokers to hold onto, anyway) I WAS able to get it up the grade, but only barely. Little by little my caution, and fear for my knees, waned in the interest of maximizing the amount of riding I could do in the bigger gear (and it just maks riding my mid-70s geared bikes that much easier later) and once I decided to go this route for ALC, I knew I had to push the issue, literally. But with a big gear bike, getting over hills isn’t a matter of will as it is on road bikes. If you slow down from exhaustion or inattention or even road conditions, that might be the end of the climb for you.

This is all to say I bombed up all the hills. I felt like that guy, the one you see on Spinergies going up Headlands or in full USPS team kit on the bridge or time trialing through stop signs. You know the one: the asshole. I like to ride with a group, not just attack my own riding crew and slam it. I feared it was perceived that way. Frankly, my only goal was to get to the top of these hills, so I had to get my gear going as fast as I could as early as I could. And anyway, I expected to be in the back on these things, so it was just timing and circumstance that led to me pushing these hills so hard. In order to stay with the group on the way down or in the rollers beyond, I had to get a head start. That’s kind of a bummer. But anyway, the important thing was getting through what I’d guess was my hardest fixie workout without injury or bonk. I’ve down longer fixie rides technically, but between some climbs and this gear, this was the HARDEST. All told, it was a good sign that I was able to keep up with these other riders and that I didn’t have knee problems during or after. And the critical barometer for me on this bike, in terms of ALC prep, is recovery. It’s going to be a hard bike to ride down the coast, but I’m most concerned about recovery after feed breaks and especially overnight. So the more of these longer weekend rollers, the better.

Everyone on the ride was awesome: Bobby and Jared, both transplants from Chicago, were experienced fixie riders back home, probably far more competent in technical skills than me, now on new higher-end road bikes and getting used to them. Great guys. Kristin and Corrine were slammin the hills and it was great catching up. In fact, towards the end, passing through the Tiburon side of Paradise, K and I were alone in the front and laughed about the fact that between my clamorous BMX chain and her allergies, neither could sneak up on the other. Oh, and China Camp? I had forgotten how beautiful it is. It’s like an abridged Paradise itself, but with more water views and a 7-11.

A great ride! Very satisfied.

*Other than, you know, riding ALC fixed in the first place…

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Related posts:

1. TLTC ALC Prep: Camino is a Cruel Mistress
2. Team Lope Ride Report – ALC Day on the Ride, WR’s Account
3. Crook: The Rhyme of the Ancient Inchgear

The prime assembly for the Crook project occurred Monday.
I think this was my most anticipated build. Except for Villain, wrongBike and Ghostal. I guess I’m pretty much generally uniformly enthusiastic about such things.

I have to say, some builds are harder than others. Full conversions like wrongBike are multi-day builds, from the stripping of old to the prepping for the new, to the painting, to the cleaning and repurposing of original parts, to the problem-solving when things go wrong on the assembly. Others, like Ghostal, are snap-together affairs with some minor delays here and there. Bikes like Villain are somewhere in the middle. I’d say Crook, so far, has been one of, if not THE easiest, build. For one thing, I’m working from almost entirely new stock, and the reuse of old parts wasn’t that onerous. For another, I had a lot of time to sit down there and think through everything and plan ahead a bit on some things that would have stalled me out had I not. Lastly, I think because the vision was consistent throughout, I didn’t have a lot of question marks going in about how things would work. I’m using same brands and same parts I’ve used on other bikes, and I knew what I wanted. I didn’t finish, but I got damn close.

Plus, I have to say, when you work and have family obligations and a young baby, just getting out there to wrench for a few hours is a wonderful thing. A few more and that bike would have been on the road today. But all in all, a wonderful build day.

One item to note was that, like Lung’s Leaser, this is an aluminum frame with a pursuit geometry. That stiffness means two compromises: creaks and discomfort. On the creak side of things, the infamous creaking bottom bracket was already plaguing Lung. We both did some research that indicated some additional lubery between bracket and cups, not just cups and shell, seemed to be recommended. Lung also had a cracked plastic cup on Leader, which he replaced with aluminum when he overhauled the BB recently. Leader is now whisper smooth.
So, I followed the same process, lubing up both the inside and outside of these cups. I’ve used the same Miche BB on Villain, and one frustrating problem, as of yet unsolved, was that the entire assembly rotated inward into the shell, away from the drive side, over time on that bike. I don’t yet know why. Stands to reason it could happen here too. So, I’m still looking into that. But for now, we’re in good shape.

On the discomfort side of things, I ride a Brooks saddle which is supportive, if not cushy. Other than the all-important rider’s triangle adjustment of bar reach to seat, the only other thing I can do to mitigate that ride discomfort on this frame is to double up on the gel padding on the bars. Padding, double upped! And if I have my way, TRIPLED up, for science, pending sourcing another gel kit. With two layers, it’s already buttery But you know how THAT goes. Not the same feeling on mile 60, 70, 80…

The front end came together very quickly, as I’d done the legwork on the headset and test fitted everything like 33 times. Not that it’s intended to be HARD, with an integrated headset and all. But I had some things to work out, largely me tricking my own self into over-complicating it, and me believing blatantly outdated marketing materials from Cinelli. But we’ve already covered that. Liberal lube of all bearing parts and the lower half of the steerer, and everything came together nicely. I won’t be cutting the steerer until i can get out there and feel out the ride position. I also have mismatched black spacers, so for science I’ll probably make them all uniform, once I determine the proper stack. Good to go! Also, Lung recently pointed out a great trick for stabilizing the front end in the bike stand involving a sock or an arm warmer. Since I use these big plastic clamps, this is how I do it: the clamp handles act as the stabilizers over the top tube.

What took the longest? Would you believe the CHAINRING replacement. Tole you what, I’ve been looking for a table-mount vice grip for awhile, which I think Lung looked for for me as well, and I sure could have used it yesterday. Chainring bolts are allen keyed on one side and have a receiver on the other side that needs to be secured from a slotted groove. OK, two hands, already required. Now, hold the crank securely in order to bear down. Crap. So, I spent a good amount of methodical, frustrating energy gripping the crank arm with my knees and working at the bolts with my hands. So much so that my legs are SORE from it. The worst part? The receivers take a flathead screwdriver to that slot to hold them in place, if you happen to have one big enough (which I didn’t) or a special tool. I must have muscled for 45 minutes all tole, getting all but one free, and then had to put it down. This bolt would NOT break free. Miche loctites them, I suspect. Anyway, on a lark I went over and reviewed my handy Spin Doctor kit and YES, of COURSE… there was the tool. It’s not marked such. it was just one of the only tools I’d never used. I actually went over looking for something to use as a jury-rig solution, looked at this tool, and felt like an idiot. Well, it wasn’t easy, but that last bolt came off finally, using, Cthulu forbid, the proper tool.

I moved up from a 46t to a 49t ring. Not a huge difference visually, but a big one on the road.

Lubed and applied, quick snap! Pedals on! I was going to use new pedals, but I cannibalized Villains’ pending what happens with that project. Vy nott, as my mother-in-law would say!

I’m using a sweet cog retainer system from Sugino in this build. Similar to designs by Miche and White Industries, it involves a carrier, a lock ring, and grooved cogs that fit to the carrier snug. This means that on the road, you unscrew the lock ring and pull the cog right off. Couldn’t be any faster. The Sugino system uses a curvy sine-wave shape to that connection, to maximize efficient bearing surface. It’s a beautiful, beautiful set up. The only drawback is that it requires a Shimano-compatible BB tool to adjust it, which is a new tool for the ride kit. But man, SWEET stuff.

Here’s a money shot of the back end. Check out the gold cog with the gold hub. I’m pretty pleased. It really has the effect I wanted.

These wheels Joe built for me are wonderful, and that’s a DEEEEEP section. Check that out against the wheelstays, for scale.

I think the second longest part of the build day was the cockpit. I’m using FSA K-Wings and they offer an internal cable routing design. Let me tell you, routing stiff cable housing from a hood a short, inflexible distance to enter the bars and come out farther down, very difficult. FSA have an ingenious helper tool, though, which I definitely made use of: it’s a strap of nylon that you push into the wider exit channel, then open wide, creating a loop. Push the cable housing through, snare it with this nylon loop, and pull it out the exit channel. Brilliant! Still not EASY, but I couldn’t have done it without it. This process was time-consuming because of the measure twice, cut once philosophy. Actually, make that measure thrice. You have to get the cable housing measurement just so, then route the cable itself, and get the brake strung, and if anything doesn’t measure up correctly, you have to start over. Tool long and it wouldn’t work. Too short, and, well, more housing required. Worse, I have 33 feet of black housing, but of COURSE I’m not using that on this build, so my stock on hand was less bountiful. Overall, it worked find and is all good to go. Gel on, brake strung, just waiting to wrap the bars until I confirm hood alignment position.

:::

The build as it stands:

Here’s the bike as a whole. Not great pics, in low light conditions down in the bikeBasement, but you should gleam at least 33% of the awesome from these pics. It looks EXACTLY as I visualized it. I’m so in love.

Here’s the front end, with most of the detail obscured, of course.

Here’s from the vantage point of the haters behind me. GORGEOUS.

What’s next?

- I need valve extenders. Badly. My long-valve tubes have valve lengths of 48mm. The rim is 42mm section. I was able to gain purchase on the rear tube somehow with my pump and inflate it, but just barely. The front, however, eluded me several times. it recedes a bit into the rim section. It’s clear that if in a controlled shop condition it’s this much trouble, on the road it’d be far worse, so I sourced some black valve extenders and I’ll pick them up shortly. They’ll be looooong and jangy, but get the job done! I don’t mind that. I like some distance from the rim.

- Once the front is inflated properly, I’ll do some test fits and ride around, checking the angles and stack height. That will tell me what spacers I still need, if any, and then I can cut the steerer and cap it.

- Brake adjustment, of course. Hasn’t happened yet. Just threw the wheels on this morning for the photos.

- Final wrap of the bars pending verification of the hood positions.

- Of course something critical is uninstalled: the chain! But it’s here, ready to go. Solid BMX half-link beastie. See, without loud clackity Campy freewheels, Lung and I need SOMETHING to warn you we’re approaching from the rear…

-Final step: beautification. i have some custom graphics and bar end work underway.

Oh, one final note: This is my first time using a Thomson post and I’m sold. I love it more than those Ergo posts on the Look frames, as light as they may be. First, it’s a FAT section. But also, two bolt adjustment for seat positioning, fore and aft. It’s never been easier to quickly align seat angle. So awesome.

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Related posts:

1. Bike Build Process Log: Crook Type 3 Conversion
2. Bike Build Process Log: Fix-e 3.0
3. Bike Build Process Log: Crook – Assembled and Ridden

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