Swizzle Blog is Morphing

Come on over to Swizzle Cycleland.

Yo there peeps. As you can see by these most recent posts, the Swizzle blog has morphed from the musings of a wig-wearing drummer in a bad yuppie band into a straight-up cycling blog. And since I'm having more fun writing about the bike and cycling in general, it seems only natural to start a blog dedicated to that. So.... if you like to ride around in circles, and ride up and down hills, and wear tight pants, or like to look at people wearing tight pants or, anything to do with adults riding bikes, groove on over to www.thesolocyclist.blogspot.com. It'll be great to see you.

Swizzle's...ummm.....Cycling Stats?

Okay, ummm, I'm not sure how I feel about this. 

You see, I've happened upon this wiz-bang iPhone ap that records all sorts of "data" while you ride (speed, mileage, and even maps the route on google maps, etc) and then not only posts it on the web, but also compares your "data" with all the other folks who've done the same ride, and used the same, wiz-bang smart phone app. Yes, yes, I know, this is hardly new technology. I'm not breaking news here. But I am breaking a deal I made with myself when I stared riding in earnest about 3 or so years ago. 


It was about the time I evolved from a city bike commuter/messenger-type (i.e. stopped working for the man in the city, hence, stopped needing to be a bike commuter/messenger-type who rides a steel fixed gear--also my faithful fixed gear was tragically stolen outside Fenway Park CLICK HERE FOR THE TRAGIC TALE) to more of the tight-pants wearin' "cyclist" that I appear to have morphed into now. As I began to fall in love with the rhythm, long efforts, and the peaceful countryside of "cycling" verses the literal urban aggression (we're talking about massholes here), of bike commuting into Boston, my road bike offered up some "data" to inform my rides that I'd never experienced on the fixie. Nothing too fancy here just simple bike computer (speed, time etc.). It did not upload my ride "data" to my personal website, or map my ride on Google maps, do anything, really, except record my speed and flash that number constantly, incessantly, mercilessly, in my face......


And I found myself watching the cold, soulless, digital, inhuman, LCD......like some kind of electronic gadget-addict almost immedately. When my speed was good...I wanted to go faster....you know, to put some speed in the bank and improve my overall average. But when I was attempting to claw into a headwind, or was just on bad form (because I was still smoking almost a pack a day then), and my speed read 16.9 mph (or 15.9 mph, or yikes 14.9) on a pancake flat road, my suffering was two fold. First, I hated myself for going so slow. Now, I was riding, in large part, to combat an unfortunate predisposition to hate myself (among other mental health benefits I've found "cycling" can deliver), so hating myself while doing something that usually produced the opposite effect, was.......counterproductive to put it mildly. 


And then the second half of the double whammy would kick in--to combat my feelings of being a looser for going so slow (Nobody was looking at my cycling computer mind you. These numbers were not being posted to the internet. It was just me, and my tight pants, and my little LCD screen), I'd twist myself inside out to get the numbers to look a little better. I didn't really want to go "faster" per se, and I certainly wasn't racing anybody,  I just wanted the little, soulless LCD readout to read 19.0 mph, or at least 18.0 mph--so the "shame" of 14.5 mph would go away. And Since I was still kinda new to the whole "cycling" thing, I turned myself inside out pretty fast. Like the first time I did a 90-miler.


That was the time when the only thing I'd had to eat the night before my first longish ride was 3 hot dogs that we'd picked up at Red's Eats in Wiscassett, Maine. I brought the road bike up to the place in Camden, and I'd thought that 90 mile round trip down to Port Clyde and back would be a piece of cake. I didn't need to "hydrate" or "eat healthy" like those sissy, tight-pants wearing "cyclists" I'd seen on teevee, thought I! I'd be good with my Red's Eats hot dogs and a couple of powerbars, my old-school endurance attitude. Just like those crazy old bastards on the old Tour de France posters. You know, those dudes who'd ride 200 miles on 50 pound bikes wearing wingtips, wool "knickers" and sporting handle bar mustaches---yep, that's me, old-school, so I thought.


It was all going pretty good until about the last 15 miles. You see, I'd been watching the damn LCD instead of the fantastic, salty, magical, lobster-strewn Maine countryside, and turned myself inside out to keep my speed up (nobody, I mean nobody cared how fast I was going), until those last 15 miles and then----- BONK....nothing. There was just nothing there. Nothing. I had 15 miles to go and I barely had enough energy to sit on the bike. BONK. It's really a perfect word. It sounds exactly like what happens when you try to ride 90 miles over rolling hills with 3 Red's Eats hot dogs in your belly..... onomatopoeia.......Somehow, I was able to keep the bike moving, but just barely. And in that crazed, energy starved, weirdly painful and trippy state, I was just barely able to turn over the smallest gear, and slowly, ever so slowly, make my way back home. And I watched the LCD screen (and judged myself) even then! 


Thankfully, Caroline put me right to bed when I finally wobbled in. And I even have vague memories of listening to the Red Sox on an old transistor radio in bed and thinking to myself.........I'm an idiot. This happened for two reasons: 
1. You gotta eat more than 3 Red's Eats hot dogs before a longish, hilly bike ride in Maine and much more importantly.......
2. This never would have happened if I'd just allowed myself to go at a more manageable pace once I started to feel wobbly. But I'll never be able to do that with the speed mocking me from the LCD screen.


So, not shortly after that, I simply cut that damn bike computer off my handlebars, and I've been happy, ever since.........until this new-fangled iPhone app darkened my door. 


So there we are. I've not only recorded some bike "data" but I'm also sharing it with my peeps. And I still really don't know how I feel about it. What do you think? Am I being crazy? A hopeless romantic? Or maybe I'm just deluding myself and think I'm faster than I am because I don't actually record my speed. You know those days when you just "feel fast"? Everyday can be like that if you don't pay attention to the actual speed...wink wink.


My original justification is that I'd like to get a basic baseline of what kind of speeds I do on my favorite rides on my current bike so I can maybe quantify the benefits/performance increase (and justify) the new bike. Or maybe I'm just deluding myself. I'd really like to hear from you other "cyclists" out there. Tell me what you think. Or better yet, come to Belmont and ride with me. We'll leave the computers at home and just ride for the helluv it. It'll be fun.  

Swizzles Help Nab Perp--In The Act Of Perping--Sort Of

Yes, yes, you read that right. We were a-woken in the wee hours last night to the sounds of crazy screeching tires and other sounds going bump in the night outside our snug little abode. And as an added bonus, our very own mystery police reporter lived to tell the tale...........
"Last night we had an incident on Ridge Rd. involving the Belmont and Watertown Police, and Watertown Fire Department.  Around 12:30 (EST) we were awoken  by a car traveling at speed making a high pitched noise travelling up Belmont St. The car eventually turned into Ridge Rd. and erratically came down the street coming to a stop by Chad and Eileens. A man exited the car, grabbed things from his trunk and ran into our driveway.  At this point, Bill ran downstairs, turned on our outdoor lights, and shouted at the man. And I called the Police who were already in the neighborhood and looking for this guy. He ran N.East up the street and was caught.  He had dropped "evidence" the contents of his trunk next to my car-including a Watertown fire department jacket. Suffice to say and you may have noticed, but we had multiple Watertown and Belmont police cars and officers investigating the scene.  The Watertown fire department showed up at one point to ID the jacket and finally the car was towed.  One officer was overheard saying, after they'd picked the guy up, "This guy is a one man crime wave." That seemed funny and oh so appropriate. We are not sure of any additional details about the situation except for what we saw and all was quiet again by 2AM or so. It was likely a coincidence that he wound up on our road, but nevertheless it was frightening and a reminder that looking out for one another is a wonderful part of our community that can help us all to feel safe. So thank you! Happy holidays and best wishes for the new year."

I couldn't agree with our police reporter any more. I just wish I'd taken some pictures. The collection of public servants in the wee hours in our driveway was truly comical and inspirational.

Two wheeled soul

I'm on my way my friends. On my way to the next level. The fourth dimension, if you will. Yes, yes, I'm on my way to getting even more joy, and peace, and dare-I-say "enlightenment" out of something that I already get a lot of good stuff from. Sure I could continue to ride my current bike that has been so faithful and carried me through some significant events in my life for another 6 years, but the truth is, it really doesn't fit me too well, and after riding about 70 miles after my man Husam significantly modified my current bike to reflect my optimum fit, I finally see what he's talking about. 

"The joy of riding a high-end bike is worth every penny" he says matter-of-factly. "Bill, life is too short to skimp on the important things," he says. "Isn't it? Why wouldn't you want a custom bike that has been set up specifically for you that will make your soul happy?" he wonders aloud. "What are you waiting for?"

Yep. This is it. It'll have different wheels, and I'm gonna wait until the spring, but I love the idea of trading in the trusty Subaru forester of a bike for a Ferrari of a bike. Sure, I'm still going to be providing the power, but won't it be fun to have the power end up feeling more powerful, and joyous, and healing, and soulful?

Well. I'm waiting for my mind to catch up with reality. You see, I've always been way too cheap to justify spending anything above the bare minimum for any of the stuff I've been involved with. I've always bought used skis and used cars and tried to make do with stuff from the want ads (way before craigslist), and most times that's all I ever thought I needed or was really entitled to. But I'm finally realizing, bikes are different. Why would I want to skimp on something that give me so much joy, and could honestly increase the comfort, the speed, the joy I get from pushing myself--sweating, freezing, breathing, aching-- out in nature on the bike everyday. Hasam has fitted me like the pros get fitted, and it's changing my world. Who knew transformation could be so easy and so profound?

That's the real question, isn't it? Transformation? Is it ever easy? I know for myself, without going into too many of the details, that 2011 has been the year of transformation, and while there have been moments sublime, I've also had more than my fair share of terror. Abject, seemingly bottomless, terror. But maybe that's how it goes. The terror comes from the old self dieing so the new, deeper self can live. Now don't worry. I'm not going to start chanting or grow a pony-tail, but I know that's exactly what's happening. I/we are transforming. And the relief and the freedom I've felt on the bike has been a big part of the action, a big positive part of my life. Like it always has. 

Swizzle Laser Light Show

No, no, I'm not talking about going to some planetarium in the late 80's and checking out the Pink Floyd Laser Light Experience, man...........it's much more propeller head than that.


Well, if you haven't heard, I'm kinda like way into riding the bike these days, and while we've all been enjoying this strange, ultra-warm New England Fall, I know the warm days are numbered. Now, it'd be no biggie if I was able to put the bike away until next spring, but, I just can't do that anymore. I can't stop riding, and I don't want to stop riding, and I really do love riding, HOWEVER, no matter what I do, or shoes, or socks or whatever I try, my feet turn into blocks of ice when the temp goes below 40 degrees.

Soooooooo. In my quest for warm feet, I returned to my man Hussam. He sold me my trusty Giant bike six years ago, and he's renowned for being the best-dam-bike-fitter around. And what the heck, with the amount of time and energy I spend on the bike (I'm guessing my trusty Ginat has about 12,000 miles on her), and the amount of money it saves on therapy, kicking out a couple of bucks to get a Gucci, laser light, propeller-head, data crunching fitting is worth it.


Who knows, I may be even realizing that I'm worth it in a healthy, taking-care-of yourself kind of way? Regardless, I spent 3 hours with my man Hussam today, and hmmmm.....he got me a totally pain-free set up on his cool custom-fitting machine, but, ummm....I may need a New Bike (pictured above) to actually replicate the sweet fitting awesomness on the road.......Hmmmmmm. I knew going into today that  Hussam is an expert salesman, as well as the owner of this very cool, customer-oriented boutique bike shop in Concord, but I have to agree, he has a point.

Oooooohhhhhhh. Carbon............ Fast.........

He talked about soul. He talked about joy. He talked about not changing the oil in a Ferrari. He talked about crunching the numbers: How much time do you spend on the bike? How much money is pure, unadulterated joy worth? How would it feel to go faster with much less effort, and better still, go much, much faster with your current effort? "The speed increase will lead to you spending even more time on the bike," he says. "Your 36-miler will become 56 overnight," he muses. "You're a natural talent and gifted with a long femur," he exclaims. "Why drive a beat up camry when you can drive a Ferrari?" and just smiles. That's what a closer does........smiles. 

Does a bike have Soul????????????

He was almost like a drug dealer waving a big bag of drugs in front of a person, who, shall we say, has a bit of a sweet tooth for that kind of stuff. He was like the candyman. A magic candy salesman..................


But, man, I can't argue with his data collection, and his customer service, and his bedside manner. First rate. Absolutely first rate. And he's right. I'm not sure if I'm ready for a new bike yet, but he is right about all those things. And it would be fun to ride without having two club feet at mile 2.