An Inside Look

5:13 AM

Bleary-eyed, I shuffle into the kitchen to fix a single cup of coffee. Moments later, the Bunn coffee maker hisses life, pushing a cup of near boiling water through coarse coffee grounds.

I take it black, dark enough that I can easily spot the crows feet near my eyes as I lift the mug to my face. They're getting darker, more pronounced.

My fourteen year old dog, Emmy, has roused from sleep. She used to get up right away when she'd hear me walking around. She's been slowing down more lately. I suspect that her hearing is going. Apart from that, and her whitened face, you wouldn't know she was fourteen. Her frequent bouts of playfulness, and wrestling with me, belie the senior dog that she is.

Emmy waits for me at the edge of the kitchen, then escorts me to the dining room table where I take a seat. She plops down on the floor next to me.

As I gather up to take a sip of the inky goodness, I mentally scan the day ahead: a one hour conference call with the offshore team at 6:00AM, followed by picking up Katherine from her night shift, walking the dog, then commuting in to work by bike and bus. From there, back-to-back mid-morning meetings will bring me to 11AM. The only other work commitment is a 2:00 PM meeting. That gives me enough time for an hour workout over lunch, which according to the TrainingPeaks calendar feed, is a set of five nine-minute functional threshold efforts with 2.5 mins of rest between. I visualize a crisp spring wind in my face as my legs burn with lactic acid while driving the big ring of my road bike around the airport's service road.

I'm invigorated by the the thought of it.

A wisp of steam rises from the mug, bringing me back to the moment. Emmy rolls gently to her side and stretches all four paws at once, back arched, head extended. She lets out a satisfying sigh. I reach down and give her belly a rub. She thumps her tail a few times in approval. I take another draw of coffee.

I'm enjoying the solitude before the the onslaught of the day begins.

After finishing my cup, I stand and cluck my tongue. Emmy perks up, head titled to one side.

"You wanna go for a walk?" I ask while signaling my intent with both hands in American sign.

Emmy hops up on a fours, shakes vigorously, then runs towards the back door. I grab a light jacket and her leash from the peg.

"Let's go!"

The day has begun.

Overdrive

Several weeks ago I wrote about how I go to the airport -- my "workbench" to do interval workouts. With wide open space, little traffic, and predictable conditions, it's an ideal setting to get it done. The thing is, it's not the most exciting place to ride a bicycle.

Well, allow me to let you in on a little secret on how I cope with the mundane, especially when a grueling workout calls for several iterations of the BCM Pep Talk to psyche myself up. Through this little secret, I can put it into overdrive and zip through the session.

And by overdrive, I'm not talking about an over-sized chain ring like this jobby here:

No. While I certainly have chain-ring envy on that ^ ride, the one I'm talking about is the smartphone app called OverDrive that allows me to connect and download audio books for free from my local library. Here it is:

Thanks for supporting Omaha Public Libraries, Mayor Stothert!

Anyway, my buddy Lucas told me about OverDrive app some time ago. He said that he liked to listen to non-fiction -- biographies and such -- while sitting on the rivet. Following Lucas' lead, I tried a few from non-fiction, but as exciting as the "Biography of Henry James" might be to some, it just wasn't cutting it for me. So I wandered over to fiction and found a treasure trove of audio books. I've "read" several of these over the past couple months. Mostly current stuff, including those adapted into films like "The Revenant", and "Bridge of Spies". I then turned to the list of 100 books everyone should read, at least according to the GoodReads.com. I've read probably 80% of those already. Overdrive has knocked off a couple more in audio format, including "The Help", and "The Book Thief". Tina Fey's "Bossy Pants", however, has not yet made that list, but it is available on OverDrive and it was as insightful as it was entertaining.

So, my workouts at the airport haven't been a solitary adventure. I've had great company on my rides. In fact, the stories have interwoven with my efforts, but only during recovery portions as it would be too difficult to absorb the content of the story while producing ridiculous feats of strength.

That's why if you see me at the airport, you may notice that my face is wet and contorted in agony. It's either because of the physical exertion at 105 RPMs, or because of an emotional ride at 40 RPMs. In either case, you could say it's because I'm in overdrive, and it's cathartic by all accounts.

Happy Friday. Thanks for reading.

Disclaimer: I don't recommend using earphones while riding your bike on the open road. If you do not heed my advice, then for goodness sake don't be a moron; turn the volume down so you can hear the surrounding traffic. 

The Cyclist

At the beginning of every bicycle ride, there is a familiar sound of a plastic cleat crunching into a spring-loaded pedal. Their union forms a bond that connects flesh and bone to rubber, steel and carbon fiber. In doing so, it transforms two formerly distinct objects into one: the cyclist.

Upon pushing off, the cyclist must momentarily let go and trust the irrational -- that willpower and the slightest shift in weight will overcome the uncertain wobbling that accompanies the first revolutions of the wheels.

This is the magic of riding a bicycle. It is present during every ride. It is the same experience from the last ride to the very first that occurred long ago. Back then, it might have taken a few tries before getting the hang of it. But after that, irrational fears were supplanted with confidence. Then, the feeling of not knowing how to ride a bicycle was nearly completely forgotten.

It is still possible to experience the magic of riding a bicycle today. When pushing off, the faintest echo of uneasiness may still be sensed as the wheel begins its first revolution. Search for it. It may take some effort, but with deliberate focus, it is still possible to reconnect with the irrational and the magic that overcomes it. It is at this moment when the thrill of letting go is as titillating as it was back then.

It's been said often that you never forget how to ride a bicycle.

If you pay attention, you may also remember how it is to ride one, too.

Happy Friday. Thanks for reading.

The BCM Pep Talk

"What are you doing?" a male's voice says to somebody, breaking through the rumbling of the westbound #2 bus on Dodge Street.

It was the end of a long day that started with a conference call before the crack of dawn. I put in nine hours at the desk, and another hour and some during a rigorous workout over a cold and blustery lunch hour. Now as the sun was setting, I was heading home. My bike, a 2008 Trek Madone -- dollied up with a set of deep dish carbon fiber wheels -- sat in the well-rack at the front of the bus.

I was quite tired. I'd by lying if I said I wasn't enjoying the warm bus ride home.

"You're a cyclist, right?" the voice persisted.

I opened my eyes and looked in the direction of the voice. It belonged to a teenager. I had never seen him before, but his words were unmistakably aimed at me.

"I am."

"Then what the hell are you doing here on this bus? That is your bike up there, isn't it?"

I nodded, the smallest grin forming on my face.

"Then, um, shouldn't you be riding it?" he shouted again over the Detroit Diesel. "This is a city bus, you know."

"Yeah, so what. I rode the bike over lunch today." I said unaffected.

The kid collapsed all at once onto the bench across from me. His lanky body was swimming inside a Central High sweatsuit, making him appear like one of those Salvador Dali paintings, melting all over the place. After a moment, he gathered himself up and leaned in towards me.

"You look like a cyclist, and that bike up front ain't no commuter. That bike was meant to be ridden, and more than during recess time, or taking Joe Businessman to-and-from his daily bus stop."

The kid was landing verbal punches left and right, but his smile broadcasted his intent to chide, not incite.

"Right. Well the truth is -- "

As I formed the words to reply, my mind shifted from my lunch workout that I could still feel in my thighs, to the several hills that stood between the office downtown and home. It was cold and getting dark. The bus not only a convenient option, but the best choice that evening. Or so I told myself.

But the kid wasn't going to have any of that.

"-- the truth is that I'm lazy" I ended up saying.

"Lazy?" His eyes lit up like a wildfire. "And you call yourself a cyclist? Ha! You need to ride that thing home next time. Got it, man?"

I liked this kid. A lot. He was giving me what my buddy Fred likes to call, the BCM Pep Talk.

For those not in the know, the Brady Christopher Murphy (BCM) Pep Talk primarily comes in two flavors. The first is to level-set the appropriate amount of dread for the horrendous task you've decided to undertake. You know, just in case you wondered if there was any hope of success of ahead for you. (There isn't). The BCM Pep talk involves taking the last 30 seconds before the whistle to attempt to psyche oneself up before enduring an arduous task. For example, I've employed it in the starting chute several times before a race. Like, getting the gumption to ascend a Mt Krumpit saturated in mud the consistency of peanut butter; or in contemplating how to sprint to the front from a 15th row's starting position at Snake Alley; or while preparing to race my first cat 5 criterium while sickly green storm clouds gathered to drop a torrent of hail stones 15 minutes later into the race. As if the perils aren't already known enough, the BCM Pep Talk is there to underscore the futility of the whole endeavor. Somehow, paradoxically, this version of the BCM Pep Talk is meant to inspire a heroic effort despite the likely outcome of failing.

The second version of the BCM Pep Talk is to call one out when they are not living up to their potential.

Having a racing bike with racing wheels on the front of city bus qualifies for option #2 of the BCM Pep Talk. Especially when the commute is only four miles.

The truth is that I was being lazy. I knew it. More importantly, the kid knew it, and he was giving me the proper BCM Pep Talk that I deserved.

As I got up to pull the stop cord, he told me that he was going to buy a road bike one day.

"I'd better not see it on the bus."

"Not a chance."

Thanks for reading. Happy Friday

The Workbench

The airport service road is a downright dreadful place to ride a bicycle. Sure, it's safe and all, with its light traffic, and its unobstructed views. That and its better than average concrete surface makes it a perfectly suitable place to ride a bicycle. Nobody disputes this.

Still, its a dismal place to ride a bike. In all, the six miles of service road that nearly encircles Eppley Airfield has got to be among the most boring stretches of tarmac in the greater Omaha area. For one, it is pancake flat. For another, it has very few trees, or any other remarkable features that makes for an interesting place to ride a bike. Apart from the 75 flights that takeoff per day, or the occasional spotting of an eagle, there is very little else that breaks up the monotony of riding there.

Otherwise, it's dreadful. But I go there often, and encounter many other cyclists who do so as well. What it lacks in scenery, it more than makes up for in utility. It is a wonderful place to do interval workouts and testing protocols because of those boring traits: it is flat, virtually straight, has light automobile traffic, and has excellent surface quality.

And then there is the wind.

Because interval workouts are best done alone, the wind is one's constant riding partner. Admittedly, the wind is not a relished companion to ride with. Apart from the annoyance of it in one's ears, intervals and power tests would be more precise without the wind. But since a single trip around the airport brings headwinds, crosswinds and tail winds, a sort of power canceling effect kicks in. That, and it presents the rider with the opportunity to consider aero positions and proper gearing selections as wind angles change while completing the loop.

I've ridden this loop hundreds of times over the years. I typically don't enjoy it while I'm there. That's not it's purpose. But I respect what it has to offer.

If I see you out there, chances are that I may simply nod my head in acknowledgement that you've discovered the purpose of riding there as well. Socializing can wait for another time; work is what gets accomplished there.

Happy Friday. Thanks for reading.