Today

Like many in Greater Boston, we stayed up much of the night listening to sirens and helicopters, and reading most of our live news coverage on twitter feeds. Confusion, gunfire, grenades, explosives, police stand-offs - in multiple towns simultaneously. These are locations that I ride and walk past all the time, where I work, where many of my friends live and work.

Today. Several Boston-area towns have been, as they put it, "suspended." Businesses are closed, and people have been either ordered or asked, depending on how you interpret it, to not leave their houses and not answer their doors. Much of the MBTA (public transport system) is shut down. Taxi service shut down. Streets largely empty except for police presence.

News are reporting highways jammed with commuters whose workday has been cancelled, trying to turn around and return to the outer suburbs.

Emails are circulating as to whether it is safe to get the heck out of here on bikes, go on a long ride, get away from it all. Some say yes, this is the very point of two wheeled freedom. Others say no, it would interfere with police orders and put cyclists in needless danger.

To local readers signed up for the New England Randonneurs Populaire tomorrow: Be aware that it may be cancelled. Stay tuned and check their website for updates. The Populaire has been rescheduled for next Saturday, April 27th.

We wait as the situation develops.

Update: As of 9:30pm, looks like the restrictions are lifted and the city is becoming functional again. I will leave the news reporting to the news agencies; we are just glad it's over without further casualties.

A Year in Cadence

Some time ago I discovered the concept of cadence. Put simply, cadence is the rate at which the cyclist is pedaling, measured in crank revolutions per minute (rpm). People I ride with will sometimes tell me mine is high, which is how I became curious what it is. For a while I had a computer with a cadence sensor and was able to monitor it. When I first got the sensor it was typically in the mid-80s. Eventually it grew into the low 90s. Then last Spring I got my new bike, and it came with a new-fangled fancy computer, but no cadence sensor. I meant to add it, but then forgot. A year went by during which I had no idea what my cadence was. Then last week, again I got a comment from someone riding next to me. It was something like "Jeez you pedal like you're going downhill on a fixed gear! Might as well take off that big ring, eh? Looks hardly used!" (this is true). At the same time, this post appeared on Heidi Swift's site, glamourising riding in the small ring à la Julie Krasniak. So I figured the universe was trying to tell me something.

I asked at my cycling club (which is also a bike shop, which is also a cafe) about installing a monitor. "Oh it's easy!" they said, and swiftly attached an enormous ugly thing to my bike's left chainstay. The sheer size and alienness of it took me aback, since my previous cadence monitor had been just a wisp of a thing. Eying the monstrous appendage apprehensively, I got on my bike and pedaled away.

Getting up to Just Riding Along pace, I glanced at the cadence and saw that the number was 103. I thought no, that's not right. And with all that thinking going on, it did drop a bit - but then promptly rose again. I rode a loop on rolling hills, glancing at the cadence occasionally. Mid 90s - low 100s seems to be a range I am comfortable with, without getting out of breath.

Curious, I decided to check how high I could make that number go up. Seeing 112 was pretty fun, rising toward 120! I kept that up for a bit, until suddenly I was overwhelmingly nauseous. I will have to experiment more carefully...

I'm not sure what to make of my rising cadence numbers over the years. I guess I just plain like to pedal fast and feel little resistance. Alas, I don't seem to ride any faster or more elegantly because of it. But it's fun to see the number go up. And it certainly explains why I like having low gears on my bikes!

Our Enchanted Blue Forest

Every April, some of my bicycle photos feature a background of what appears to be a carpet of blue  flowers. Readers ask all the time what those flowers are and where I managed to find an entire field of them. Funny, until about 4 years ago I do not remember seeing many of these around myself. Then one spring - my first spring of cycling - I was riding around the neighbourhood and discovered a patch of them on a lawn. It caught my eye, because the shade of blue seemed unnaturally over-saturated. From a distance it looked like someone had spilled cerulean paint on the grass! Later I spotted another small patch of the same flowers in a nearby park, and again marveled at the effect. I meant to investigate further, but a week later the flowers were gone. I did not think of them again, until the following April, when they reappeared in much larger quantities. Now the lawn where I had spotted the first patch was covered with them completely. The ones in the park had spread over a wider area as well.

When I stopped to examine the flowers closely, I saw that individually they were not remarkable or even especially pretty. Scraggly tiny things with long, misshapen, sharply pointed petals. It was hard to find one photogenic enough to photograph on its own, and large enough to capture without a macro lens.  

Their beauty came from growing in clusters. When they cover a patch of soil, all those tiny blooms merge into a quivering sea of blues and greens of incredible intensity. The larger the area they spread across, the more mesmerising and overwhelming their effect. 

By the third year, they'd spread further still - spilling over to multiple lawns all over the neighbourhood, and transforming the small fenced-in park near my house. Finally I learned what the flowers are. Rather unromantically, they are called wood squills. Also known as Siberian squill, or Scilla siberica - a "bulbous perennial in the family Asparagaceae." The flowers produce blue pollen, which may explain their misty, hazy quality when observed from afar. Easy to cultivate, they spread by seed and form large colonies in early spring that bloom quickly and disappear by the time the first growth of grass is ready to be mowed. 

Apparently Scilla siberica colonies can become invasive, and it looks like our little park has been invaded! Even this year's cold, slow spring has not stopped the squills from covering the entire stretch of the woods in cerulean carpet, turning the park - a popular pedestrian shortcut for locals - into an enchanted blue forest. Walking through here is absolutely stunning. One of those sights that makes you breathe in deeply, squint at the sun, and just feel happy to be a part of this strange, beautiful world.

Today

As you may know by now, a tragic event has happened here in Boston. The details are still vague, so I will restate only what has been confirmed by the police: Two bombs went off at the finish of the Boston Marathon, injuring over 140 people and killing three, including a child. At least one other device was found and detonated in a controlled explosion. The Marathon was shut down and stranded runners are being accommodated. An investigation is in progress.

That is really all we know at this stage. I was not at the scene when it happened. Everyone I know who was there is unharmed. I hope the same is the case for anyone reading this.

Last night, many local cyclists took part in the now famous Midnight Marathon Ride. Althoguh I didn't join, I understand what a special event this was for them. The MBTA organised a "bike train" to transport hundreds of happy cyclists to the start of the route. There was drum-biking, lots of excitement and bonding; happy memories were made. Josh Zisson of Bike Safe Boston describes what it felt like to have the elation of that event contrasted with the tragedy that came later. Other local cyclists are too much in shock to react publicly. And I know that some are still sitting at work, because the idea of riding home through the city after what happened either scares or depresses them.

To all of them I just want to say: Don't let this horrible experience take away your special experience. And don't let it make you afraid of your own city. We live in a world where bad things happen. But it's still our world. We must do what we can to help those whom we can. And we must try to live freely no matter what.

Monday Mailbox: How to Unclip in Time If Your Bike Stalls Out Uphill?

Monday Mailbox is a weekly post dedicated to questions received over email. Here is one I've been asked by new riders on a few occasions:

I see that you use clipless pedals, and that you do some rides with steep hills. How do you make sure to unclip in time and keep from falling over if your bike runs out of gears and stalls out on a steep climb? I would like to try clipless pedals, but this part makes me nervous.

I am going to answer this question literally - as in how do I handle this situation. It may not be the most elegant or standard way to do it, but it works for me.

If I'm in my lowest gear already and a hill is so steep that I sense I am coming to a complete stop, I make one last effort to push on the pedals with all my force and heave the bike forward. This buys me the extra bit of momentum I need to unclip and put my foot down calmly.

But in general, with clipless pedals the key is not to panic. Once you get used to the system, unclipping should be instantaneous. So even if your bike comes to a complete stop and starts falling over to one side, there is still time to unclip - as long as you don't panic and "forget" how to do it.

And on a separate note: If you frequently find yourself running out of gears uphill to the point of stalling out and having to walk, consider that your bike may have the wrong gearing for your style of riding or ability. Talk to your local bike shop about lowering your gearing; most likely it will mean swapping out the rear cassette and will not be too expensive. Being able to ride all the way up a hill beats having to stop - whether you ride with clipless pedals or not.

Once in a Blue Moon

Six days after my first official Permanent, I found myself riding another. An entirely different and slightly longer route with a couple of brief stretches of dirt, but otherwise the same idea. The other day a friend was teasing that I write the most detailed 100K ride reports ever. True, it probably takes some riders longer to get through my reports than to ride the routes! But you know, there may come a time when I think a 100 km bicycle ride is not worth writing about. And that makes me a little sad. We go through our learning experiences, growing pains and all the wonder that comes with them but once. Today I appreciate that more than ever.

The Blue Moon Permanent marked this year's New England Brevet Season Kick-Off Party. The start of the ride was crowded, with a varied mix of cyclists. The bikes ran the gamut from road race to traditional randonneuring machines. Like a handful of others, I hung back and began a few minutes after the official start. Though I saw other riders along the way, I rode mostly on my own this time.

The route weaved through Boston's south-western suburbs, taking us to the scenic Noon Hill reservation and the Blue Moon Café in Medfield. Although the towns on this side of Boston are known to be high in traffic, the route itself was remarkably quiet. Orchards and farms comprised much of the scenery, alternating with stretches of sleepy residential streets bordering bodies of water. At one point there was even a Forest Road that, uncharacteristically, went through an actual forest, rather than a series of strip malls or new housing developments! Pamela Blalock's route design skills are a rare talent.

My experience of this Permanent was very different from last week's. I didn't question whether I could finish before the cutoff time; that now seemed like a given. Instead, riding such a circuitous route solo gave me the opportunity to focus on improving my navigation skills. I made a game of trying to not go off course a single time, and succeeded. I also tried to see whether I could manage to make fewer, shorter stops while still enjoying the scenery.

I cycled the 10 miles to the start and arrived with only a few minutes to spare, not giving myself a big break before the event this time. The ride itself was just over 67 miles and I finished it in 6 hours 25 minutes. My computer shows 3,900ft of elevation gain, but the climbing was distributed in such a way that I did not especially feel it. The descents seemed tamer than last time as well. My overall average speed (including stops and the sit-down meal) was 10.45mph, which is a bit faster than last week's 9.9mph. My average rolling speed was about the same: 13.1mph. If I can improve my times a bit more, I might be able to do these rides on the camera bike soon, with proper photo stops, and still make the cutoff - but not just yet.

After the ride I stuck around for the Brevet Season Kick-Off Party at the Ride Studio Cafe, then rode home in the dark, for a total of 87 miles. I took a quick shower, went out for a walk, then stayed up late working and woke up early to work some more. I do not feel any worse for wear after this Permanent. Unlike last time, I did not even have that crazed, feverish feeling afterward. It felt like a normal ride that just happened to be timed and counted "for credit."

There may come a time when I think a 100 km bicycle ride is not worth writing about. In the meanwhile, I am enjoying it all. The slew of new sensations that every ride brings, the shameful yet oddly liberating experience of being the weakest cyclist of everyone I ride with, and of course, the beautiful local scenery waiting to be discovered.

Ceci N'est Pas un Rando Bike

Last summer I test rode and reviewed a Rawland Nordavinden, which I liked very much. At the time I was waiting for a similar frame (a prototype project) to be finished and it was unclear when that would happen. Could be soon, could be in another year, as these things go. In the meantime I kept borrowing bikes to do dirt road rides, which didn't feel right. So after giving it some thought, I bought the Nordavinden frame for personal use and built it up as an interim bike, with components destined for my own frame. Long story short, but for now the Rawland remains. I got used to it, I like it and can't bring myself to dismantle it. 

The frameset is the same one described earlier, so I won't go into detail again. But quick summary: It is steel, with thin wall standard diameter tubing and low trail geometry, made to fit 650Bx42mm tires and to accommodate sidepull or centerpull brakes. The way I set up this bike is considerably different from the demo model I tried last summer, so I'd like to share my impressions of this version. 

Rawland owners have their own newsgroup called rCOG, which I browse with interest. One common theme I've noticed there is that they like to keep the weight of their builds down. I did this to some extent as well, but didn't take it as far as one could. For instance, I went for lightweight wheels, but didn't fret as much over the other components. Still, the bike - before fenders, front rack or handlebar bag, but including saddle, pedals, bottle cages and bar tape - weighed a respectable 22lb, according to Harris Cyclery's scale. Once the final accessories were added, the weight rose to 25lb. That is not bad for a bike of its type, though it's possible to do better (for a price).

The wheels were built around Pacenti PL23 rims, with a Schmidt SON dynohub in the front and a White Industries rear hub, with a Campagnolo road cassette. The tires are the 650Bx42mm Grand Bois Hetres. Some have pointed out that this bike looks like it has fatter tires than the one I tried last summer, but that's only because these are cream and the others were black. White tires tend to look larger; it's an optical illusion.

The drivetrain is a hybrid of older Campagnolo Chorus (not sure what year, but it was when Chorus was still a 10-speed group), and a White Industries VBC road double. The goal here was to achieve super low gearing without weighing down the rear wheel with a mountain cassette, as well as allowing me to use my favourite shifters. As far as smoothness of operation and reliability, the setup works okay, but I would not go so far as to recommend it (or any other hybrid drivetrain I've tried to date) to others. More on this in a later post; it could be a bit of a rant.

But as far as gearing, the setup is heavenly. I have 42/28t rings on the crankset, and a 12-29t cassette in the rear. On pavement, I mostly use the big ring, and it provides a decent range. On dirt, I switch to small and it also provides a decent range. Having a sub 1:1 gear is wonderful. I tend to pedal at a high cadence, so climbing hills on an overgeared bike is a sure way to dampen my enjoyment of a ride. With the low gearing here, my legs always feel good on climbs; I feel like I could go anywhere. 

The brakes are Paul Racers, and I reviewed them here. Honjo fluted fenders. 

When riding on dirt and gravel, I prefer the Selle Anatomica saddle for the extra bit of give it provides. I've reviewed SA saddles before (here and here), but might need to post an update.

In the front I have a Nitto Mark's rack and a modified VO Campagne handlebar bag, which I use as a camera bag. The headlight is a Schmidt Edelux, on a DIY bracket. I have not installed a dynamo tail light yet, but when I do it will be the Spanniga Pixeo. 

Cane Creek headset, Velo Orange stem, Grand Bois Maes handlebars, Cinelli cork tape. In retrospect, I think the white tape was an aesthetic mistake on this bike, but I'll keep it while it lasts. 

Not clearly pictured here are my Crankbrothers Candy pedals, and King bottle cages (made by these guys), with Lezyne mini-pump attached. When I ride this bike, I typically keep tools in the saddle wedge and camera stuff in the handlebar bag. If I were doing a multi-day trip, I would substitute a large saddlebag for the wedge. I do not plan to install a rear rack.

[image by Pamela Blalock]

The role of this bicycle seems to confuse a lot of people. I've been repeatedly asked why I did not ride last weekend's Permanent on it, since it's the prototypical "rando bike." But it's not a rando bike, at least not to me. I prefer to do paved rides - be they short or long - on my lightweight skinny-tire roadbike. On pavement, my roadbike is faster and feels better; I get less tired and find it easier to keep up with others. This may not be the case for everyone, but it is for me. However on dirt and gravel, this dynamic changes and a fat tire bike feels both more comfortable and more efficient. I also find the Rawland's distinct handling to be helpful on twisty unpaved rides, which in turn allows me to ride more confidently, relax and enjoy myself more. 

So the Rawland (and any similar bike it might eventually be replaced with) is for unpaved riding. It is also a "camera bike," for long rides where I go exploring and photo-scouting. These two use case scenarios sometimes, though not always, overlap. The frame feels springy, but not noodly. A full handlebar bag does not seem to impact handling in any noticeable way, but the bike also handles just fine without it, as well as with weight on the rear only. In general (another rant-inducing topic best saved for another post), I am coming to the conclusion that handlebar bag setups are unnecessarily bulky and troublesome. I would not go this route, if it weren't for my desire to carry heavy cameras on the front of the bike. That said, I enjoy my setup, despite the trouble it took to install everything to my satisfaction and the extra weight.

I've now had the Rawland since September, though I did not ride it for a period from January till late March due to snow. My favourite things about it are the handling, and that it allows me to carry my big cameras in the front. It is a fine bike and a fun bike - though I'll be remiss not to note that others who try it don't always like it; the phrase "hinged in the middle" is used. It seems the low trail thing is really a matter of taste (and/or of getting used to).

With unpaved rides becoming more popular than ever, lots of cyclists are looking for appropriate bikes and the Rawland is a great option. In addition to the Nordavinden, there is now also the Stag model, which is made for cantilever or v-brakes, and for 650B wheels in all sizes (whereas only the smaller Nordavinden comes in 650B). And for an entirely different take on bikes for unpaved riding, watch for an upcoming review of the Honey Cyclocross bike.