A couple quick links

A couple quick links, full of good news. Fuel up with bacon and/or coconut for your ride through Brooklyn...

1. Big 'Fat' Blog Post 3, concerns the role of dietary fat in an endurance athlete's diet (Robbwolf.com)
2. Judge Rejects Groups' Effort to Remove Bike Lane (NyTimes.com)

Dude, where's your bike?

The weather is perfect for cycling and I'm commuting in my rolling steel and glass cage this week. I have a number of rule 11 violations keeping me off the bike. I even missed Crit Practice tonight.

Not all is lost: The end of the week involves a trip to Spearfish Canyon Lodge with my wife, where there will be half a day of mountain biking on unfamiliar singletrack with a rental. Success means coming home with:

1. ...awesome pictures of waterfalls, granite spires and blue spruce forest
2. ...all teeth and bones intact

Don't worry, I will be commuting again next week.

I took a slight detour to scope out the construction progress of the new at-grade intersection of Randolph near Capital Parkway. It connects the "trail to nowhere" from the J-street underpass with the Capitol Parkway trail south of Randolph about four car-lengths back from the intersection. This eliminates stopping for cars at J street and reduces the chances of an inconsiderate motorist blocking the bikeway across Randolph. Winning all the way around!

When they finish re-grading the underpass at 27th and Capitol Parkway, my 7 mile one-way commute should once again be a leisurely 28 minutes, as opposed to a 28 minute hammerfest. The underpass is slated to be completed in November, just in time for Nokians.

In the absence of riding my bike, I searched the google news machine for some good bike-friendly news to keep my spirits up:

1. End of the road for motormania (New Scientist)
2. Bicycles can mean a cheap commute (Kansas City Star)
3. Commuter Bike Traffic Sets Record in NYC (Bicycle Retailer and Industry News) 

Street Pizza

I first heard the term "Street Pizza" when I was 11 or 12 while watching TV. I want to say it was in a movie on HBO, but there's a voice in the back of my head shouting "it's from an episode of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles". Ah, to be a pre-teen in the mid to late eighties...

Either way, the term refers to what happens when flesh makes contact with terra-firma at speed.

This post from Bike Hugger illustrates why cyclists should obey traffic laws while wearing a helmet. The post contains a pic of the grease left behind after the street pizza has been boxed up and delivered.

Trust Your Tires.

I haven't posted much lately because of the intense pain in my legs. Unlike other Lincoln area blogger-cyclists who claim they aren't blogging because they aren't biking, I have the opposite problem: I haven't blogged because I've increased my mileage and intensity and my brain is fried from the endorphin rush.

My legs feel like concrete right now, two days after another session of Tuesday Night Critz at The Bridges. It didn't help that I lifted weights tonight. I normally put in 3 sets on the hip sled. I didn't get my 12th rep in on my second set. My legs said "don't even think about that third set" when I got up to get some water.

Participating in the mother of all interval workouts came about a few weeks ago, when I decided to enter the Flatwater Cycling Twilight Crit Series Race #2. I had a horrible race. I got dropped in the second corner on the first lap because I didn't want to cause a wreck by following a bad line in the turn. I hit the brakes to get a clear shot at the turn and lost tons of momentum. The wind after that turn was relentless. Watching the pack leave me in the dust while half of them were coasting in each other's slipstream was painful, both physically and mentally. I burned all of my matches trying to catch back up. 

I bought a one-day license and paid my entry fee, so I had to make the most of it. I pushed into the wind and rested a bit on the backstretch, where I had a tailwind. I tried hard to latch on to the pack or groups of other dropped riders, but my legs wouldn't have it. My average speed was just south of 18mph.

I got some advice on cornering from more experienced cyclists in the area. The advice given boils down to breathing and paying attention to your line through the turns. Weight the outside pedal and inside handlebar. Trust your tires.

I was also told that Lincoln Southwest High School's faculty parking lot is a good place to get some cornering experience: one won't go fast enough to skid since it's so short.

I spent the sunday after that race in the parking lot. I was taking three of the four turns at LSW at up to 20mph, braking only for the sharp 4th turn. There simply isn't a good line for that turn because the median wants you to turn to leave the parking lot. I wouldn't take it faster than 13mph. I think I did 35 counter-clockwise laps without stopping. I turned around and did about 20 clockwise before getting bored with the exercise.

I went back to Tuesday Night Critz for more practice, and got dropped like a bad habit after two turns and then lapped within 5 laps. This time it wasn't because I was slamming on my brakes and losing momentum, it's because I wasn't strong enough to keep up. And frankly, that shouldn't suprise anyone. I gave chase during each of the subsequent work intervals, it felt great to put in that kind of work.

I suffered greatly for it. My legs cramped several times during the night, I didn't sleep much, and most frighteningly: I wasn't hungry the next morning. Breakfast felt truly optional. All that meant I was dehydrated.

Truly stupid: I rode to work and then to my daughter's final softball game and then home the next day. 11mph was a grueling effort, those 19 miles took more than two hours. I drove to work Thursday then skipped my usual Thursday night gym session to finish recovering.

I've gone back to Crit Practice every week since. I've been able to keep up for at least one full lap before the Cat 1/2 racers decide to beat up on each other and drop everyone else. I still burn all of my matches during that first lap.

I also entered the third installment of the Flatwater Twilight Series. I kept up with the pack for a lap and a half and was one of four dropped by that point. I got passed by one of the other dropped riders who remarked "now that was fast!"

I latched on to other dropped riders' wheels at different points during the race, and when the pack passed me by I would hook on to them for a quarter to half a lap to get more experience at speed. They were only going 22mph during the last lap. I thought they were all dead or dying. No: they were getting ready to sprint. I got dropped right after the turn and watched a few people make moves to win the race.

I broke 32mph at some point, presumably during the first lap and a half. Pretty sure that happened right after the first turn on the first lap, I moved up the outside of the pack to chase down the leaders, then decided to back off about halfway up the pack, because I knew full well that I couldn't keep up that kind of pace for more than 15 seconds, especially when there's ~39 more minutes of racing.

This experience has me looking forward to the UNL cycling weekend in September. While I most likely won't win, I will be able to keep up for a lap.

Maybe two.

A couple quick links

A couple quick links:

1. Riding your bike on the sidewalk in downtown Lincoln is not only dangerous, it is illegal. (Lincoln Journal-Star)
2. Don't be tricked by processed food labels claiming heath benefits. (FitnessLincoln.com)
3. Boston's efforts to dissuade cyclists from running stop signs and red lights has no legal teeth. (Boston Globe)

What am I supposed to eat?

I'll be flat out honest with you: I've been struggling with my weight since I was 12 years old. I was a skinny kid up until 6th grade. My dad was worried I wasn't going to grow muscle. And then I just exploded. I easily put on 20lbs of blubber for no discernible reason within a few short months. None of my old clothes fit around me.

I'm 35 today. My weight has been a roller coaster. I constantly think about the weight coming back. I get on the scale every morning.

During my teens and 20s, I found cycling to be a fun way to keep the weight off and "not worry" about what I ate. But I've always had a layer of fat on me. Still do, in fact.

All that changed when Sony dropped the Playstation. That thing was addictive. Night and day, the playstation was on. I was either fighting or racing. And my clothes got tighter.

Unlike my super-awkward 6th grade self, my somewhat awkward grown-up self can identify what went wrong this time: my steady diet of Mt. Dew, onion rings and Runzas. (There was a Runza across the street from my old apartment.) Every so often I would pay my body a little respect with a salad. Or potato chips. Heck, I might go to Subway for lunch. Seemed to work for that Jared guy.

Oh yeah, and LaBamba Burritos. "Burritos as Big as Your Head!". Oh SNAP those were good.

Needless to say, I abused my body's ability to properly burn fuel. I topped out at 262.8lbs. That's what I weighed at my first Weight Watcher's meeting back in 2002. 4 years later I was down to just a hair under 182lbs. It's been five and a half years since my last WW meeting, and I've been fluctuating between 181 and 205lbs since. (I have had a couple mornings below 180, but those were due to dehydration.)

I stopped going to the meetings because I wasn't making weight progress and I was chronically hungry. I was tired. I was crabby. I started smoking cigarettes again. I would wake up in the middle of the night and think about eating food. I craved apple fritters.

The only way to shut off the late night cravings was to eat something, and the only thing in the cupboards that seemed like it might be tasty was peanut butter. I would eat it straight out of the jar. I would fall asleep fast after that. And then the next day I would have to make an adjustment because, "OMG I ATE 8 POINTS WORTH OF PEANUT BUTTER LAST NIGHT!!!"

Some days I just didn't care. I'd go to Runza and kick it old school with a gigantic Mt. Dew, Large Onion Rings and double cheeseburger, because fuck it: I'm not getting anywhere anyways.

Needless to say, the cycle got vicious.

Note: I'm not disparaging Weight Watchers. Frankly, the plan saved my life. It got me away from the ledge. But something wasn't clicking for me as I was reducing the number of "points" I consumed.

Points are a proprietary system developed by Weight Watchers. It's ever-changing, but the gist of it is that all foods have a point value, the low-fat and/or high-fiber foods have a lower point value, so you're encouraged to eat more of them in a given day. It's a simplified method of "conventional dieting". It works for a lot of people.

One can also earn points through exercise based on time, body weight and exercise intensity. A half hour to an hour on the bike would yield me 2-6 points, depending on the intensity and duration. Heck, Mowing the lawn was 3 points. A bottle of beer was 3 points. Coincidence? I say not!

So, to maximize my food volume while keeping a small points footprint, a typical meal could include burritos made with fat free refried beans on a fat free whole wheat tortilla made with 93% lean ground turkey and reduced fat cheddar cheese. Another evening would include boneless/skinless chicken with a side of brown rice, steamed veggies and some reduced fat cheddar cheese melted over the top of the rice for some flavor.

(Sure, I would spend fewer "Points" by eating fat free cheddar, but that lasted a day: fat free cheddar doesn't melt. It scorches. On the other hand, I willingly indulged in fat-free mozzarella, because it melted. Looking back, I must have rocks for brains: fat free mozzarella should not melt, but it contains a collection of chemicals to ensure it does. And I ate it.)

There were some nights when I muttered "J.F.C., not this shit again" to myself when I sat down to eat.

Activity became a means to an end. A ride from the South Walmart (still under construction during those days) to Palmyra and back was about an hour and 15 minutes and meant ice cream or pizza while staying "on plan".

Not that it mattered. I wasn't getting anywhere during those last two months. I still had a layer of fat on me. I was 14lbs away from goal. And I was hungry all the time.

Why?

Last year I picked up Joe Friel's Cyclist's Training Bible. Chapter 16 is entitled "Fuel". There's a subheader called "Carbohydrates". Page 251 includes these two paragraphs:

When you eat a high-carbohydrate meal or snack, the pancreas releases insulin to regulate the level of blood sugar. That insulin stays in the blood for up to two hours, during which time it has other effects, such as preventing the body from utilizing stored fat, converting carbohydrates and protein to body fat, and moving fat in the blood to storage sites. This may explain why, despite serious training and eating a "healthy" diet, some athletes are unable to lose body fat.

[snip]

Notice in Table 16.2 that many of the foods that have a moderate to high glycemic index are the ones we have typically thought of as "healthy" and therefore eaten liberally. These include starchy foods such as cereal, bread, rice, pasta, potatoes, crackers, bagels, pancakes, and bananas. No wonder so many endurance athletes are always hungry and have a hard time losing excess body fat.

If there's too many words quoted, then perhaps this humorous video clip from Tom Naughton's 2009 Documentary "Fat Head" can hold your attention, it says roughly the same thing:




This resonates with my "dieting" experience like a gong: my weight problem isn't how much, it's what and why.

While I still have trouble avoiding carbohydrate temptation (downfalls include pancakes or Mt. Dew Throwback, this list is woefully incomplete I might add), I try to avoid consuming them on "light activity" days.  And some days it is really trying...

And just between you, me, and the rest of the blogosphere: when I eat a low carb meal before a ride (bacon cheese burger or a three-egg omelette with a side of bacon, or just bacon), I feel like I've been using some performance enhancing drug. It takes longer to "bonk", despite riding at higher intensities than I could after fueling with pancakes or pop-tarts.

Perhaps it's just a placebo effect, but I can't help but think the reduction in insulin lets the fat out of the bags and the glycogen out of the liver, availing it for Super High Intensity Training.

If you've never had a weight issue, chances are you probably think I'm off my rocker. That's okay.  I think what I'm experiencing is what reasonably fit folks refer to as "normal".

Street - Bike Trail Intersection Etiquette... again

Lincoln has more than 100 miles of bike/multi-use paths criss-crossing the city. They also intersect with major and not so major streets. There are above and below grade crossings for high traffic streets. But there are also at-grade crossings, mostly in residential areas, but a few are at busy intersections. Most have a crosswalk marked in the street and all but a few have a stop light.

I've observed that, as a cyclist, I can affect how a driver reacts at the at-grade crossings. If my front wheel is within 6 inches of the street surface at an at-grade residential crossing, drivers freak out and slam on their brakes. It doesn't matter that both my feet are unclipped and my hands are in the air (off the handlebars) waving them through. Then they wave me through with a look of disgust on their faces.

And then they get angry at me for not going.

I'm serious when I say motorists aren't looking or even aware of a cyclist's presence until it's too late. At least initially. Their behavior will change after a close call or two.

The best place in Lincoln to observe a change in driving habits due to horrible cyclist behavior is 26th street at the Mopac. Cars travel through there at 5-10mph because cyclists come off the 27th street bike bridge as if their brakes are unhooked.

*sigh*

Stop sign is there for a reason, cyclists: the car is 15-20 times your weight and (would ordinarily be) travelling at 25mph. If that's not scary enough: 18 wheelers use that street to deliver products to retail businesses. Those drivers may not drive through there often enough to know that you have total disregard for your own life.

I've learned to stop a few feet from the street, using the sidewalk (if present) as my guide. Often times I will hold the stop-sign post. The cars don't see me and go about their business. I get to cross safely. Everybody is happy.

But today I was 33rd street, a busy two lane road with a center turn lane and 35mph speed limit used by motorists to get home quickly. Cars usually don't care that I'm there, and I'm okay with that. Today someone cared a little too much.

To the lady in the southbound blue Toyota Camry at the intersection of 33rd and Mopac, near Peter Pan Park, at approximately 5:40 this evening: Just go.

I stood there unclipped from a pedal with my hand locking my front brake and you sat there. I waved you through and you sat there. The four cars stacked up behind you honked at you to go, and you sat there.

Quite frankly, I question your motives: the northbound traffic coming from Vine street sure wasn't going to stop to let me through.

Seriously: after the four cars behind you pass the trail intersection, a gap in traffic opens up that I can pedal through safely. Nobody is stuck behind you. Cyclists aren't throwing dirty looks your way. Everybody is happy.

But happiness is too much to ask for these days, I guess.