Hey. You Look Good.

Looking straight at her, he said it with nonchalant sincerity, nodding in approval for emphasis.



"Hey. You look good."



In response she gave him a startled, almost bewildered look. As if caught off guard by his directness. As if to say "Hey buddy, this is a cycling club, not a night club. And don't you know any subtler flirting tactics besides?"



Witnessing the exchange I had to suppress a laugh. When this phrase was first said to me on a ride, I did not know what to make of it either.



Of course the guy was telling her she looked good on the bike. That her position was good, that the bike fit her well, that she had good form. It's all in the tone and in the look. Once you get used to this pronouncement in a cycling context, it's hard to mistake for flirtation. But the first time it does catch you off guard. "You look good." Just like that, huh?



I don't tell other cyclists they look good on the bike when we ride together. I don't feel ready. What do I know good form from bad? Yes I see things, and I think it to myself. But it wouldn't be right to say it. The compliment must have significance.



But when I have my camera the dynamic changes. I tell riders they look good then, and it takes on a different meaning: happy, radiant, picturesque. Maybe they have a contagious smile. Or an intriguing frown. Or the light through the trees is falling on their face just so. Or the colour of their bike interacts perfectly with the colours of the bench they are standing beside. It feels natural to say it then, looking through the lens of my camera. "You look wonderful." Or "That's beautiful - thank you."



And there are times when I know not to say it. Just like sometimes I know not to point my camera. Even though the scene looks perfect, I just don't.



The human gaze is such a complicated thing. It communicates interest, care, the acknowledgement of the other, but also scrutiny. We want to be gazed upon to some extent, but there is always a line beyond which we don't. In cycling, the gaze is ever present - focused on each other's bodies, movements. Sometimes it is silent judgment. And sometimes it culminates in "Hey. You look good." In response to which I simply say "Thanks" and continue to pedal.

Early Christmas Gifts

We have already received two of our Christmas gifts early. One was from my MIL, and we have really enjoyed this one. It is a kitchen island that we bought while in Virginia. We took out our dining room table and chairs and this sits in that space now.



We love this thing! We still have some eating space there so we didn't really give that up. We gained tons of storage space and counter top space with it.



The other things is a microwave and convection oven combo. I have wanted this since we bought the RV and am thrilled with it. I have used it tons since we have put it in, mostly for baking bread, cookies and muffins.







I'm glad that I did get them both early, since they will help me with my Christmas baking! I think we enjoy both things for a long time.

Visitors

We had some handsome visitors. They didn't stay long, though... Jasmine wasn't very hospitable.



When I first got interested in birds, I took a local class, where I learned that I'd been calling these by the wrong name my whole life. It's Canada Goose, not Canadian Goose! Branta canadensis in Latin.

Go see the Friday Ark for more critter pics!

Bakses and Bakses! Trying the Bakfiets.nl and the Christiania 2-Wheeler

My stay in Vienna is turning out to be very bike-heavy, so to speak, but I am not complaining!



During the year I've been away my friend Wolfgang and his partners have opened up a cargo bike shop, Heavy Pedals, and it's stocked to the gills with the likes of Bakfiets, Christiania, Larry vs Harry, Monarch, Winther, Nihola, Yuba Mundo, XtraCycles and, of course, the inhouse-designed Truck. I can't possibly try them all in the course of this trip, but I was very keen to at least finally try the classic Dutch bakfiets.



And here it is - so, so beautiful with its elegant lines and shiny wooden box. While I can appreciate modern designs, I remain a sucker for the classic stuff.



The Bakfiets.nl 2-wheel cargo bikes come in two sizes, and the one I tried is the short version - which, mind you, is still large enough to transport two children. I cannot find the exact weight rating, but it is over 100kg (220lb).



The box includes a folding bench with two sets of seatbelts and optional cushions. This can be removed if you plan to transport cargo and not children.



The frame is steel and the complete bike is rather heavy. There is a very sturdy and wide fold-down kickstand that clicks into place when both down and up.



The rear wheel is 26" and the front is 20". It comes equipped with a full chaincase, dress guards, fenders and lighting.



An optional rain cover is fairly easy to attach and remove. A non-human cargo version is also available.



Of all the cargo bikes on the market, my readers are probably most familiar with the classic Dutch bakfiets - meaning, literally, "box bike" - which has been imported into the US for several years now, and has been reviewed by others. The most typical bakfiets is the two wheeler with a wide wooden box in the front, like the one pictured here. It is an old design and several manufacturers make modern-day versions - including the Bakfiets.nl reviewed here, Workcycles and Babboe. One thing I would like to know is whether these manufacturers order the frames from the same source or make their own, so any insider information is welcome. As others have already written about these bikes at length, I will not go into elaborate detail about their construction and history here, and instead will focus on my impression of the ride quality.



Put simply, I thoroughly enjoyed it. But you are probably looking for something more technical. Okay: Unlike the longtail I tried earlier, the handling of the bakfiets ispeculiar. But the peculiarity is of the ridable variety. As in, you are riding it just fine and thinking "Gee, this feels different" - rather than toppling over because of the difference, as several of us did with the Larry vs Harry Bullitt. If you've ever tried a Brompton, that's what the bakfiets handling reminded me of the most. The front end is a bit wobbly (with the box empty), but entirely controllable. As Wolfgang put it, it handles like a more extreme version of a classic Dutch bike. Yes.



I am not sure why, but of all the cargo bikes I've tried so far, the bakfiets felt especially accessible. You can see in the pictures that I am cycling right on the road. It was actually difficult to photograph me, because cars kept passing from both directions and also from around the corner, ruining all the shots. But I felt pretty comfortable. There was no "learning curve" and by the end of my test ride I was ready to appropriate the bike for my own. This was very different from my experience with Danish longjohns.



Speaking of Danish, I also briefly tried the Christiania 2-wheeler. Several months ago, I test rode the three-wheel version, but this is an entirely different kettle of fish. Despite being Danish, this cargo bike resembles a bakfiets rather than a longjohn. In size it is equivalent to the longer version of the bakfiets - large enough to transport 3 children.



The bicycle is handsome and classic. I am not positive, but the box appears to be part plywood and part metal. Oddly, I can find almost no official information on this bike, even from the Christiania website, despite it technically having been out since . If you can offer additional information, please do.



Despite being larger, the Christianiais lighter than the bakfiets, because the frame is aluminum (as with the 3-wheel version). Both this bike and the bakfiets have welded construction and unicrown forks - as do all cargo bikes I've seen so far - which does not look too bad given their overall utilitarian look. With both bikes, I would generally like to learn more about where and how they are made, but am finding that difficult.



This bike is equipped very similarly to the bakfiets, with an upright sitting position, rear rack, dynamo lighting and several gearing options.Differences in components include the sweep of the handlebars, the kickstand design, the chainguard in leu of full chaincase, and lack of dressguards.



As far as geometry goes, theChristiania has a somewhat steeper seat tube than the bakfiets. The length of the seat tube is shorter, which means that a smaller person can ride this bike.



The Christianiahas a noticeably lower bottom bracket than the bakfiets. And thesweep of the step-through section of the frame is alsodifferent.



For those who plan to transport children, a very cute and useful feature is the little door in the box with a latch, which the bakfiets lacks. This allows children to walk into the box instead of having to step over the side. A bench with seatbelts is included, just like in the 3-wheel version of the Christiania.

There are no decent photos of me riding the Christiania, but I did ride it in the same way as the bakfiets. The handling was very similar, though with the Christiania there was a bit more front-end fishtailing. I assumed that this was due to the front being longer than on the short bakfiets model, but according to Wolfgang this difference exists even compared to the long bakfiets. Nonetheless the bike was entirely rideable and the fishtailing was nothing like what I had experienced on the Bullitt earlier. As with the bakfiets, I could ride the Christianiaon the first try.



As for how the 2-wheel version compared to the 3-wheeler, they are just entirely different creatures. The 2-wheeler is a bike and handles like a bike, whereas the trike requires you to balance differently and to slow down on corners instead of leaning. As I wrote in my ride report of the trike, I can see myself using it. But overall I prefer the two-wheeler.



Of the two bikes, I think the short bakfiets is the better choice for me - mainly because the size felt just right, and the handling felt more effortless. Also, the Christiania, with its little door, seems more oriented toward transporting children, which is not what I would need a cargo bike for. The bakfiets is heavier, but for me that would not matter much in a cargo bike. Of course, your priorities might be different on all accounts.



As with my other cargo bike test rides, these were obviously fairly short and should be viewed as "first impressions" rather than in-depth reviews. But I think first impressions matter here, particularly for those trying to determine how ridable various cargo bikes are on the first try for someone who is not already accustomed to them. For me, the Bakfiets.nl bakfiets and the Christiania 2-wheeler were quite ridable, despite the unusual handling. Many thanks to Heavy Pedals for the test rides!

High Water at High Falls

High Falls at Grand Portage State Park on May 25, - The Pigeon River has risen 5 FEET in the last 24 hours from yesterday's heavy rainfall!

Happy Tears? Bracing for Winter...

At first glance, this might look like a "sad panda", but it's really not. It's just that today was 35° F and windy out. Riding to my destination I must have been a site, because tears were streaming down my face, then freezing in disgusting patches all over my cheeks. Mmmm!

So yes - Now I understand what cyclists mean when they discuss goggles for winter riding. I don't do well with goggles, because they mess with my spatial perception. But (some) sunglasses I can deal with, so I think I will wear them in the winter just as I wore them as "bug shields" last spring.

One thing I truly love about the winter is the beautiful light. Velouria thinks it flatters her colouring and gives her a sense of mystery. She also thinks that she will look quite nice once the snow arrives. What a vain bicycle!

Dramatic self-and-bike shadow. That lumpy stuff on my face is the tears - next time the sunglasses are coming for sure.

Overall, I am still trying to figure out how to be consistently comfortable cycling during the cold season. While I continue to cycle almost every day, I have to be honest: It does not feel as great as it did in the warmer months and I do not get the urge to go on rides (as opposed to using the bike solely for transportation) when it is below 40° F. Maybe I just need to allow myself to get used to it gradually? Also, I must admit that I am getting slightly terrified at the prospect of riding in the snow. On the one day it seriously snowed here so far, I was sick and didn't ride anywhere, but more snow is coming soon and I am going to have to face it. The posts on other blogs make it seem like "wiping out" on ice is not just a possibility, but an inevitability, and that doesn't sit well with me. I can't imagine not cycling during the winter, but I need to think of a plan and to brace myself.

Bee-Happy

Though I have a surprisingly good track record of notcrashing my bike, that does not mean I haven't gotten hurt cycling. And for whatever strange reason, the main cause of that hurt has been bees. That's right, bees.



For the record, until 5 years ago I have never had a problem with the stripey, fuzzy, industrious, winged little creatures. They are handsome. They are useful. And they make delicious sweet honey. But no sooner had I put foot to pedal than our relationship soured.



In Spring I was cyclingalong the Danube Bike Path outside Vienna, when a whale of a bumble bee flew directly into my face. When our worlds collided, I was going 12mph on an upright bike and it was going full bumblebee speed. It didn't sting me. It sort of bounced off my eye, just beneath the right brow bone. But the impact had such force, that I walked around with a black eye for a week. This was back when I had a 9-5 job, with an office and Important Meetings and everything. Explaining this incident - in English and German and sometimes other languages too - never failed to delight, especially when I had to resort to pantomime. Pedal-pedal-pedal... bzzz... smack, I would gesture. My audience would positively beam with understanding. Aaaaaah, yes-yes, oop-pa!



I submit to you some statistics. Before I began cycling, I'd only been stung by a bee once, maybe twice in my life. Since I began cycling? At least half a dozen times. In fact the number might be closer to 10. The first time was a shock, the second time an annoyance. After that I began to take it in stride. Still, there are a few memorable stings. Like that beautiful spring day on which I first exposed my ankles, donning 3/4 shorts instead of full length tights, only to be stung in one of said ankles, causing a baseball sized swelling. Or that time I first rode to the Fruitlands with Pamela, and, just before reaching the top of the big climb, was stung in the fold between thigh and crotch. Or the time I was stung on the palm of my hand whilst holding the handlebars and wearing cycling gloves. I admit that continuing to hold the bars for the last 20 miles home caused some whimpering.



And then there was yesterday. Just 4 miles into a 40 mile ride, I am bombing (well, okay - proceeding cautiously) downhill, when smack! A bee flies directly into my sunglasses, bouncing off the lower edge of the right lens, then off my cheekbone, before falling to the ground. At first I don't even bother slowing down. But then I realise that the creature managed to actually sting me whilst performing its death throe acrobatics. The pain is sharp, then piercing, then downright unbearable. Finally I pull over and get off the bike. By this time the right side of my face feels like it's going numb. Of all the symptoms I know associated with bee stings, this one surprises me and I calmly wonder whether Something Bad is Happening. I pull out my phone and send a text message to my husband (who has ER experience and is great for quick unsentimental feedback). I try to be precise:"stung by bee below right eye. side face numb. keep riding or seek med help?"



Unfortunately this happens in a spot with poor cell phone reception and I am not able to send the text. Or search for "bee sting, numbness" on the internet. So I decide to keep riding until I find an establishment with a bathroom where I could clean the sting and get a better look at it. This does not take long, as the area is chock full of ice cream shops and lobster shacks placed every 2/3rd of a mile or so along the coastal roads.Despite the morning hour, the nearest lobster place is already open. They have not only a bathroom but also one of those first aid ice packs that doesn't become an ice pack until you activate it. The waitresses observe with interest, elbows on the sink, as I luxuriate in their cool bathroom, washing the sunscreen and sweat and grime off my face, then applying the ice pack to the now-swollen area.



At length the numbness wears off and now only the pain of the sting remains. I reason this means I'm okay and decide to keep riding. Maybe the pain of the sting and the pain of the cycling (I plan to practice standingagain - hoping to beat my 1/2 mile at a time record) would cancel each other out. This proves a good strategy and I proceed to have a lovely ride. Later in the day the swelling and pain subside and by the time I go to bed the incident is nearly forgotten.



Alas this morning I open my eyes and discover I cannot open the right one completely. The area beneath it looks like a misshapen tomato. Apparently this is pretty normal for a bee sting under the eye; it can take up to a week for the swelling to go down. Bees!



But you know how the song goes... "when the bee stings/ my favourite things" and all that? So I went on a squinty early morning bike ride and didn't feel so bad. The Advil probably helped too.

The Real Unfinished Business at Chiricahua

At Chiricahua there are a series of trails that when combined will take you from Massai Point or Echo Canyon down to the Visitor Center 6.3 miles and 1,380 feet below. In addition, there are two spur trails of a mile each, making the trek 8.3 miles long (actually 8.5 including the half-mile trail from the Visitor Center back to the campground). And, this is why I returned to Chiricahua. When I was there in March, the thought of making such a long hike (it seemed long to me at the time) was daunting. That, and the fact that much of the trail was downhill didn't sink in until after I had left!

First, a shuttle bus takes you to the starting point, bright and early at 8:30 in the morning. It's about a 20 minute ride to Echo Canyon where I started out. From there it is a short walk to the Ed Riggs Trail, which connects to the Mushroom Rock Trail, which connects to the Big Balanced Rock Trail, which connects to the Sarah Deming Trail, which connects to the Lower Rhyolite Canyon Trail, which (finally) takes you to the Visitor Center. (Ah, the genealogy of a hike!) At the intersection of Mushroom Rock and Big Balanced Rock is the spur trail to Inspiration Point. Then midway along Big Balanced Rock Trail is the Heart of Rocks Loop.

Of course, there are some people that start this hike from the Visitor Center and go UP to Massai Point. However, I wasn't one of those people, besides why go up when you can just as readily go down? (Since there are so many images in this post, they have been made smaller. Please click on an image to view a larger version.)

The Ed Riggs Trail, which is only .7 miles long, quickly drops you into the canyon while the Mushroom Rock Trail gains 610 feet in elevation in 1.2 miles. It's a bit like a roller coaster, albeit a very slow moving one! Like most of the trails at Chiricahua, these were rocky. Very rocky.

Mushroom Rock.

Nearing the end of Mushroom Rock Trail.

The trail to Inspiration Point is mostly level, which was a welcome change after the ascension of Mushroom Rock Trail. Inspiration Point offers stunning views of the valley, providing a slightly different perspective than what is seen from Massai Point.

The incredible view from Inspiration Point.


Several of the formations along Big Balanced Rock Trail.

A sign posted beside the path says that Big Balanced Rock is 22 feet in diameter, 25 feet in height, and weighs 1,000 tons. (Wow. That's two million pounds! Wonder how they weighed it?)

A portion of the Heart of Rocks Loop. That's the trail, going through and over the rocks!

The trail guide says “The Heart of Rocks Loop has many of the most unusual rock formations to be found at Chiricahua.” It also says to “Start the loop to the left and hike clockwise for the best views and easiest walking. Lots of rock steps make this a challenging loop, but it's worth the effort.” Challenging? I'd have to say that the Heart of Rocks Loop is the most difficult, challenging, strenuous one-mile trail I've hiked. And other campers at Chiricahua that I've talked with who have done it, agree with that assessment. It is tough. But, oh, was it fun!

Camel's Head.

Duck on a Rock.

More formations in the Heart of Rocks Loop.

A short distance after returning to the Big Balanced Rock Trail you connect to the Sarah Deming Trail, which is 1.6 miles of rocks. Big rocks. Little rocks. In-between rocks. The Sarah Deming Trail rocks!

It seems like forever, but you will eventually arrive at the Lower Rhyolite Canyon Trail, which takes you (where else?) through the lower portion of the Rhyolite Canyon. There is also an Upper Rhyolite Canyon Trail that would take you up into the canyon to connect to two other trails, which would take you back up to Massai Point. But I was going down, thank goodness!

When you get within a mile or so of the Visitor Center, the trail is (literally) a walk in the woods. And oh so refreshing after hiking all day in the sun!

As you can see from these photos, the terrain is quite varied. You get up close and personal with some of the stone formations. It was a most interesting day. My feet hurt. My legs were sore. My curiosity was satisfied. I was pleased that I had returned to Chiricahua. But most of all, I was very happy when I made it back to my campsite!

Pickleball and Covered Bridge Number 3

Rene and Mira took us to a nearby town named Copeland, where the locals play pickleball. They have public courts in a park and were a great group to play with. Their skill level was very impressive. Afterwards, we stopped at a local place to eat dinner. They had a hamburger special and we all tried different burgers.

Bicycles, Walls and the Passage of Time

Over the holidays I received a DVD of a film diptych that I'd long wanted to watch: Cycling the Frame and The Invisible Frame, directed by Cynthia Beatt.



In 1988, Beatt made the short filmCycling the Frame. Described as a "cine-poem," this 30 minute documentary follows a young British actress (Tilda Swinton) as she cycles along the perimeter of the Berlin Wall in what was then West Berlin. It is a 100 mile journey along mostly abandoned roads and overgrown dirt paths crossing forests and fields. The ever-present wall, with its menacing guard towers, turns the landscape surreal: It severs railroad tracks, creates paths to nowhere, and separates waterfront properties from the bodies of water they front. As Swinton pedals, she vocalises her stream-of-conscience thoughts about the things she sees and how they make her feel. As she grows tired of cycling and overwhelmed with her surroundings, the film begins to resemble a dream sequence. Finally she arrives to her Brandenburg Gate start and concludes that "this place is mad."



More than two decades after the original journey, the director and actress set out again to film the follow up, The Invisible Frame. In , they retrace their route along the now long-absent Berlin Wall. A visibly more mature, sharper dressed Tilda Swinton cycles the perimeter, this time weaving back and forth across the phantom border. There are signs of life now: The roads have bike lanes and motorised traffic. On some of the dirt paths we see joggers, dog walkers, children and other cyclists. But despite an apparent return to normality along these stretches, the majority of the landscape is no less eerie twenty years after the wall's removal. We see abandoned buildings, barren fields, dingy looking lakes, random bits of strangeness. It's as if scarred, dead space remains left where the separation used to be. Disconcerted, Swinton meditates on this as she pedals, concluding that "when one wall comes down others come up."



While these aren't cycling films exactly, the prominent role of the bicycle is impossible to ignore. From a practical standpoint, a bike was necessary to make the films happen. Much of the route along the real/ phantom Wall is not accessible to cars, and traveling 100 miles on foot would not have worked with the scope of the project. The speed of the bicycle matched the speed with which the narrative needed to flow, and even the camera crew traveled via a cargo recumbent. As each film progresses, the bicycle begins to seem increasingly important, merging with Swinton's visceral sense of self. She starts to mention it in her stream-of-conscience utterings, to talk about space in relation to not just her, but to her and the bike, to confuse herself with the bike. While this contributes to the mystical feel of the films, it will also be recognised by cyclists as a completely normal sensation to have during long rides.



It was interesting also that the bicycle seemed well-matched to Swinton's person in each of the films. In the original, the actress's flowing clothing looks worn and a little disheveled; her hair natural and slightly unkempt. The bike she rides is a rickety swoopy mixte with faded paint. In the newer film, Swinton is dressed in a stylized and sophisticated manner. She wears architectural-looking clothing and shoes. There are sharp angles to her haircut, her hair now a platinum blond. The bicycle she rides is angular and modern, its paint metallic. This transformation in personal style and bike echoes the rift I felt between the earlier and the latter films. Cycling the Framecame across as spontaneous and exploratory, whereas The Invisible Frameseemed stiffer and more choreographed. The actress/cyclist is no longer the same person and does not relate to this landscape in the same way. She talks about openness, but speaks in political and philosophical generalities and is seemingly less present in Berlin itself.



Can we ever recreate an experience, or re-visit a place? And can we ever really understand another country, as we tour it on a bike with a foreigner's benign detachment and predatory curiosity? These are the questions these films, with their collective 200 miles of cycling along a real/ unreal wall perimeter, ultimately seem to be asking.



If you are local and would like to borrow my copy, drop me a line. The Invisible Framecan be viewed on netflix, but the original Cycling the Frame was not available online last time I checked.

Last Woman Standing

Pushing my bike uphill, I am high off the ground and high on happiness.




"Look, look! I can stand out of the saddle!"




My riding companion's face registers confusion, then bewildered comprehension.




"Oh my God. You mean all this time you couldn't?!"

"Nope!"




Funny that she hadn't noticed - although many people I ride with don't seem to notice my deficiencies in cycling skills; I guess I find ways to disguise them. But privately I remain acutely aware of those deficiencies. And ever since I started riding as an adult, I've been trying to master this particular "skill" - something most riders seem to take for granted as just being part of riding a bike. Standing up when a gear feels too high is simply the natural thing to do for them. Pedal sitting, pedal standing, what's the difference?




For me there was a big difference. Since childhood, I've had problems with balance and proprioception (the awareness of one's body in space), both of which made riding a bike in anything but a rudimentary manner seem unattainable. 4 years ago, I could hardly swing a leg over a top tube without toppling over. But my irrational love of cycling made me persistent. Things are much better now than they used to be, to the point that I can almost pass for "normal" on a roadbike - all the more reason my few remaining difficulties are so frustrating.




So what was the problem getting out of the saddle?.. The physical memory is disappearing now, but try to imagine this: Whenever I'd try to stand up, I would lose the sense of where I was in relation to both the bike and the ground. Not only did I have no intuitive notion of how to hold my body up when no longer seated, but I'd start to experience general disorientation and mild vertigo. Not surprisingly, these sensations would make me anxious, which in turn made the whole thing worse; a vicious cycle.Verbal instructions from well-meaning riding companions did not help. This was obviously just something I needed to work on myself. And I did keep trying.




But the first break-through came when I wasn't trying at all. It was a couple of months ago. I was riding an Xtracycle Radishone day, up a gentle hill. Just before I was about to reach the top, I stood up and leaned forward instead of downshifting. My mind was elsewhere and the whole thing was unintentional; it just happened. After I realised what I'd done, I was so happy I almost had to pull over on the side of the road to laugh or cry or something. My mind was blown!I tried it again later, this time intentionally. It was not quite as natural as the first time. I was jerky in my movements and my legs grew tired quickly,but for a few pedal strokes at a time it worked.




Several days later came the 300K brevet. I was losing time on a long climb, and in a moment of frustration I tried standing up again so that I could push a bigger gear. This did not feel the same as it did on the Xtracycle and I nearly fell off my bike. After that I decided to give my standing attempts a little rest.




And I did, until one day - on my roadbike in Northern Ireland - it "just happened" again on its own. I simply stood up, absent-mindedly on a short hill. This time I decided to harness whatever impulse had enabled me to do this. Continuing to ride on rolling terrain I stood up again and again, rather than switching gears, until I began to trust that I could do it. After a week of this, I was no longer hesitant or nervous to stand up at will.




A few days ago I pedaled over to County Tyroneto visit a friend. It was a 100 mile day with around 6,000 feet of climbing over the "shoulders" of the Sperrins mountain range. I stood up whenever I wanted, and finally, in the course of this ride, it began to feel as I imagine it's felt to other riders all along - normal.




One thing I realise now, is that in addition to whatever balance issues were involved, another problem was weak legs. At first my legs would start to quiver after just a short time out of the saddle; I felt like one of those newborn colts learning to walk. On a serious hill, I still get worn out quickly when standing. So even though thebalance and proprioceptionproblems are gone, I continue to practice just to develop more leg strength. And finesse. At the moment, my technique is not exactly elegant. I don't throw the bike from side to side needlessly, but my pedal strokes are jerky and awkward compared to how I pedal seated.




As my last two years of roadcycling have shown, it is possible to do even long distance rides without ever standing out of the saddle. And there are, after all, experienced riders who simply prefer not to stand. I do not know whether I am one of them yet. But once I form a preference, it will be exactly that - a preference, and not a limitation.