The problem of translating sensation and experience into words. Or any communicative form for that matter. Human have struggled with it since... well, since always it seems like. We've dedicated entire disciplines to it. We approach it with art. We approach it with science. We approach it with philosophy, and all manner of things in between. And still we cannot simply show our inner world to others.
Know what I mean?
Arguably, the answer is no. Always no, even if we say yes and believe it. We never, ever really know what somebody else means. We are clever and we guess. Or we model it on ourselves, try thoughts, ideas, images and even emotions on for size. But in the process it becomes once again our experience, not the other's.
Maybe now I've confused you and you feel comfortable saying no. "No, I have no idea what you mean."
Good.
Look. We all need to make sense of experience.And in doing so, it's tempting and convenient to plug it into a template -a template where the experience is transformed into an archetypical story.
Like - OMG I was all unsure of myself. Can I do a 200K? I mean it's so hard, I don't know. But wait... I trained and I did it! Yay!
Although that's a little brief. Let's get the village involved.
So I trained, and my friends were like "We believe in you!" and I was like "Aw you guys!"
Okay, but still a little thin. So hang on, let's add some uncertainty.
Oh no, it's the week before the ride and I overtrained?..
Yes, like that. But perhaps more panic.
Oh no, it's the week before The Ride and I overtrained!
Enter the comments, that post-post-postmodern Greek Chorus.
Chorus 1: You overtrained, oh no!
Chorus 2: You overtrained, I told you so!
Chorus 3: Now you must rest before you go!
Oh gosh, whatever will happen? Will I make it? Be sure to read tomorrow and find out!
I have a bad feeling...
Whenever I say or think that now, Carmela Soprano appears in my head. She wears a tight beige cashmere sweater. Her hair is in a French twist.
I've got a bad feeling (New Jersey accent, thick mascara, eyes full of meaning). Yesthis is what I mean.
Carmela: Tell me, what is this bad feeling?
OMG you read my blog?
Carmela: No, not really. But you know, I was thinking of getting in shape, being more active. Biking to the hair salon.
Oh but that's wonderful! ...Have you tried a Bella Ciao Neorealista?
We hug and share a delicious pastry. Then she rides away.
That feeling of being in a pre-determined script.My inner experience forced into training-diary vocab and follow-along storylines. It's all wrong.
Know what I mean?
Chorus 1:Yes
Chorus 2: No
Chorus 3: Will you ever review a budget bike?
Huh?
Chorus 3:Oops, wrong post.
Oh ok.
Cycling.Something is changing. There is wilting and blossoming and quiet and explosions of sound. I try to think of a better way to explain.
Today was the first time I felt well enough to ride a roadbike since havinggotten sicklast month. It was only 26 miles, but it felt great to have my full lung capacity and energy back.
Continuing with the Italian theme, I took Francesco - my fixed gear stallion. How happy he was, basking in the precious minutes of sunshine in between thunderstorms.
Riding a fixed gear roadbike is an experience that fills me with a special kind of enjoyment - I think because it combines the sensations of walking and flying (fly-walking?).
I was worried that I might be too out of shape to make it, but I had forgotten how comfortable Francesco is. The 26 miles of pedaling felt like a stroll in the park. Although, I have learned by now that even if I feel "fine" riding fixed gear while I am actually doing it, it does take more out of me than a free-wheel bicycle. I usually sleep longer after such a ride, and sometimes I am sore the following day.
One thing that has improved my comfort level with fixed gear cycling considerably, are these "fixie" Power Grips. I wrote about the standard Power Grips here, and since my initial review I have become addicted to these things. The fixed gear version differs from the standard model, in that it makes it easier to insert and remove your feet while pedals are in motion. I cannot tell what it is about the design that makes this possible, but none the less it seems to work. I insert my right toe at the starting position and start cycling slowly while nudging the left pedal with my left toe - then swiftly insert the toe into the left grip on the first stroke. After some practice this became a familiar and instinctive sequence of movements - though it definitely helped that I was already comfortable using this system on a free-wheel bike prior to trying it on a fixed gear.
Now that I am able to use foot retention on this bicycle, I am no longer apprehensive about cycling over bumps and potholes or going downhill at high speeds. The experience is pretty much perfect and very enjoyable. One thing in particular I have noticed, is how easy it is for me to ride "in the drops" - Francesco almost seems more stable when the handlebars are held this way than higher up. Is that possible?
And another interesting thing: I find it much, much easier to get out of the saddle and pedal standing up on Francesco than I do on my other bicycles. Is it the fixed-gearness that is facilitating this or the geometry? As I've mentioned before, I have a terrible sense of balance, and that is what I believe normally prevents me from pedaling while standing up. But on this bicycle, it seems not to matter.
It rained on and off for the duration of our ride, and the colourful leaves strewn over the trail turned into a mess of a slippery carpet. Was I so excited to be riding Francesco that I began to imagine things, or is it easier to ride in slippery conditions on a fixed gear bike? I have read comments about traction before, but I admit that I don't understand them. Could somebody explain it in layman's terms?
As I prepare for some more pruning of my bicycle overgrowth, it is clear to me that I "need" a fixed gear roadbike. So while I am now considering selling my Trek- which has been fun, but not essential - I will definitely be keeping the Francesco Moser.
In the long run, however - maybe a couple of years from now - I will probably want to replace it with a "real" fixed gear bicycle. Mainly, this is because the Moser's bottom bracket is not as high as it should be - and even though my lean on turns is not aggressive enough to warrant worrying about pedal strike yet, it would be better if this wasn't even a potential issue.
But for now,Francesco is my dashing Italian gentleman and I thank him for my happy feet.
During a recent visit to Harris Cyclery I had a rather emotional encounter with a creature I had not seen in some time - a Brompton bicycle in raw lacquer. The raw lacquer finish was offered as a standard choice when we were first considering Bromptons several years ago. And then - bang, it was suddenly unavailable. I forget the precise cause (something to do with changes in finishing technique?), but at some point I was told it was impossible to get one, at least for the time being - which of course only exaggerated my memories of how beautiful and unique the raw lacquer was. I mourned its disappearance and fantasised about its return. And now there it was, in the corner of the bike shop - unapologetically glorious in its nudity.
To be clear, this is not just about the Brompton. In my early days of bicycle shopping I had to be talked down from an unreasonable crush on theRivendell Bombadil (the original version), which at the time was distinguished by its raw finish. The bare steel frame looked dirty yet shimmery underneath the clearcoat, and the juxtaposition activated some aesthetic hot-button in my brain quicker than I could pronounce the bike's name. In the Bromptonthis effect is multiplied tenfold because of its diminutive size and complexity. The multitude of miniature brazed joints fascinates while the warm glow of the bronze lures. Oh dear.
This is what the bicycle looks like in its entirety. It can look either charcoal or olive depending on the light, at times bearing a resemblance to tree bark. With a brown leather saddle to set off the frame, the look would be even more organic.
Because the Bromptonis a folder, there are countless opportunities to exhibit brazed joints - which is no doubt why they chose to offer this finish as an option. It underscores the labor and thought that must have gone into designing the fold - so many tiny bits and pieces, all brazed.
Even this!
And this.
Not to mention all of this. (I am curious about that uncapped seatstay though - how is the moisture kept out?)
An interesting feature of the clear coat is that it makes everything look wet, giving an impression of the frame having been freshly completed moments ago. Of course, frames aren't wet when they are brazed, but the impression of immediacy is still there; the process of construction feels alive and vibrant.
I can imagine that the raw finish is not for everyone. Some might find the resulting colour scheme drab. Others might feel it's too busy with all those contrasts highlighting the joints. Others still may not want to be constantly aware of their bicycle frame's construction - I suppose it could make one nervous. But for me, it is a true visual feast.
There is some unresolved debate regarding whether a clear coat is enough to protect a frame from rust, and that is one issue that's prevented me from getting a bicycle with that finish. But if I ever finally take the plunge and acquire a Brompton, I believe that this will be the one. Hopefully it will always remain available as a classic option.
On the trail to Willow Hole.
It was nice that someone showed me the way to go! One couple that I talked to on the way back thought that the trail ended here.
And that dry river bed? Well, it wasn't really dry at all. Along the edges I noticed that the sand was darker. Digging into it with my hands confirmed that it was damp and going down a little further it was really wet. Further along the trail there was standing water in some spots. It was an unusual winter throughout most of the U.S., wet and cold. And that unusual winter has given us an unusual spring as well, with water showing up in places where it hasn't been for many years.
Willow Hole. A pool of black, brackish water.
This area was about a mile from Willow Hole. On my way in I had met a couple and we had talked for a while then they started back out. As I returned they were sitting on the two large rocks in the foreground with their feet soaking in the water. They said it was refreshing and asked me to join them, which I did. When I got my shoes and socks off and stuck my feet in the water, they laughed because I immediately pulled my feet out. The water was cold. Extremely cold. I was amazed and wasn't expecting that, but they were right, it was refreshing. We sat there for half an hour or more, talking and relaxing.
At the end of the trail. Done! Is my face flushed from the heat and sun or is it a reflection from that bright red shirt?