Air Speed Versus Ground Speed on a Bicycle

 

Riding around the airstrip at Camp Adder, Iraq

One afternoon in Iraq in 2009, I decided to ride to supper from the motor pool on a day with a howling wind out of the west. I rode two miles in a crosswind then had to make a left and ride a half mile straight into that 30-mph wind.  Ten feet after the intersection I stopped.  I could not make my single-speed bike move another foot.  

A couple of Special Forces soldiers in an SUV saw me. They gave me and the bike a ride to the mess hall.  I assured them the ride back would be a "breeze."  I thanked them and went to dinner.  That sandstorm was the only time the wind completely stopped my ride.  

In the last week I was paying attention to air speed versus ground speed on my bike.  The group that I ride with has not gotten together because of rain and detours on the route.  I did my usual 25-mile solo ride that is 12.5 miles south ending in a 3-mile uphill, followed by 12.5 miles north beginning with a series of downhills covering three miles.  

The second of the four hills is the steepest.  Last Saturday Strava my top speed (ground speed) was 49mph.  Sunday it was 52mph. Today it was 48mph. As I was riding home today, I was thinking about my air speed.  

On Saturday, the wind was out of the northwest at 10 mph.  The north component of the wind was 7mph so my air speed was 56mph.  On Sunday the air was calm.  Ground and air speed equal.  Today the wind was 5mph out of the north northeast. That put the headwind a 4mph and my air speed at 52mph.  So Saturday was clearly the fastest ride down the 12 percent grade on Route 272 North.  

 Air is always apparent on a bike.

Old Age is a New Adventure

Two weeks ago, surgery restored my smashed left elbow to something like its previous shape. The next morning, after surgery, another doctor gave me some stunning news: I needed to start taking large doses of Vitamin D right away and when I get home, call the hospital and come back for a Dexascan.  The doctor said I had low bone density, a significant Vitamin D deficiency and said I should join an osteoporosis support group. 

Wow!!

I knew this day was coming. Someday my bones would be frail enough that it would be stupid to ride a bike.  I did not know the day would be so soon. 

The strange thing, from inside my mind, was my feelings of excitement—not loss or panic.  Since the early 90s when I became bike obsessed, every day, every trip, every vacation, and all future plans were built around riding.  I took two bikes to Iraq on deployment. I took a bike with me on more than 30 business trips in three years between 1998 and 2001. 

One of the first things I thought about was how different the world would look if the bike were not part of the trip. I have been to Paris two dozen times in the last two decades. I have never been to The Louvre.  Because visiting the premiere museum in Paris takes all day and when I am in Paris some part of every day, I ride with the racers at the daily training race at L’Hippodrome in Bois de Boulogne.  One way or another, The Louvre never happened.

I then imagined myself walking across every bridge from the Eiffel Tower to Ile de Cite because I would not feel the need to ride. 

As I healed from major injuries several times over the last 30 years, my focus always was getting back on the bike.  When I broke my neck, I spent 90 days in the neck and chest brace. On the 91^st, I rolled down the hill I crashed on.  Now, I was oddly delighted that I would not be focused on getting back on the bike. It was a relief.

I knew Old Age would impose limits on me, like not riding, but I expected the limits to feel like fasting or waiting in line—deprivation.  But against all my expectations, I feel excitement. I have a new frame to view the world.  I started thinking about moments over the last five years when I began to deal with the effects of change from aging and other causes.

If I had to date the beginning of Old Age, I would say it was July of 2015.  On June 30, 2015, I retired. I had worked summers and Saturdays and sometimes after school since I was 12. I had a full-time job from my 18^th birthday until the day I retired. I have not worked a day since.  I have not missed it.  In June of 2015, I went on my last Army training exercise and took the Army fitness test for the last time.  Soon after, I left the Army. With the rise of Trump and his popularity among soldiers, I was glad to be gone.  It was a big change to no longer be a worker or a soldier, but after a half-century of defining myself as both, I was neither and I was unexpectedly happy.

I started meditating. I started taking Yoga.  After years of resisting both, I was open to both and began practicing. I am currently not doing Yoga in part because of COVID-19 and now because of my injuries but have been meditating daily for years.

Also, in 2015, my workouts changed.  The swimming and running that carried me through an Ironman race in 2014 were history for me.  Both shoulders had torn ligaments. My left knee ached and would be replaced three years later.  No more Army fitness test meant no more pushups.  The bike was my only workout besides yoga. 

And coincident with my own advancing age, in 2016 America became senile. America elected a racist who wanted to make America white again.

Since 2017, much has changed in my thought and spiritual life because America is in rapid cognitive decline. More on that soon.

Renting and Riding Bicycles in Five Countries

 Paris Training Race at Longchamp

During my five-week trip in Europe and Israel, I rented five of the six bikes I rode. The sixth bike I left at the monastery where my Cold War Army roommate is Bruder Timotheus in Darmstadt, Germany.  Each bike and rental is as different as the country in which I rode.

This was not the trip I planned. Originally I was going to ride as much as I could of the length of Israel, but my knee swelled up and hurt a lot on the day before the flight to Europe.  I rested my knee the first few days and rode with less intensity, but still had a great trip.   

PARIS

In Paris, I primarily rode the daily training race atLongchamp.  There is a two-mile road around the perimeter of the horse-racing track called L’hippodrome in the southwest corner of the city.  Every day that road is closed to traffic from 10am until sunset.  Groups of bikes and solo bikes ride the circle. Every time I could, I rode the circle, joining various groups of riders and riding their speed. The last day I rode there I did a dozen laps on a windy day averaging 19 mph.  There is a Strava segment on the 3km circle that is 21km.  Strava told me I averaged 31.7km/hr.  another time I rode a couple of laps at 14 mph with five riders in their 70s. 

One of the days I rode to the west suburbs of Suresne, Rueil-Malmaison, Chatou and Saint Germain-en-Laye.  The ride is hilly, beautiful and on a variety of roads. 

I rented the bike from Paris Bike Company in Malakoff on the south side of Paris. They rent high-end bikes for tours and by the day.  Sam Weaver, the owner, is an American who was a bike dealer in America and now has a shop for tours. He does custom bike fit for local clients. He speaks French well with a very American accent.  His rental rate for a carbon race bike with helmet, pedals and water bottles is 70 Euros for the first day and 30 Euros for additional days.  Importantly for me, the additional days do not have to be sequential.  I was in and out of Paris a half-dozen times during the five weeks I travelled.  I rented the bike for a couple of days, went to Israel and Latvia for two weeks, rode another day, left for Germany, ride two more days, went to Germany again, and then rode one more day at the end of the trip.  The bike was ready each time. 

JERUSALEM

In Jerusalem I rode different directions out of the city. In Jerusalem, leaving the city means riding steeply downhill for miles. And, of course, riding steeply uphill all the way back. In fact, the steepest parts of the ride in and out of Jerusalem are the first two or three miles.

In Jerusalem, I rented another carbon race bike from another American with a bike shop.  Moses, owner of Bike Way, is even more relaxed that Sam about the bike.  I had the bike I rented in Jerusalem for five days. When I returned it, Moses asked how many days I rode. I said four—I skipped riding one day. He charged me for just four.  His rate is $35 per day.  In February I will be in Jerusalem for eight days. I told Moses I would need a bike then, but between tours I was doing and the rainy season, I did not know when or how many days. He told me to take the bike when I arrive. When I return it, tell him how many days I rode. He will charge me for just those days. It may be just three days. That’s okay with him.

RIGA, LATVIA

I visited all three of the Baltic states in four days there: Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania, but only rode one day in Riga, Latvia.  The other days it rained. A friend who lived there was surprised I even had a three-hour window to ride one day. He said it rains or snows from October to April.  The Baltic states are flat and forested with the narrow roads common all over Europe. In the city of Riga there were bike paths along the river and I saw some bike lanes in the city. There was also cobblestones and very narrow streets in the old city.

In Riga, Latvia, I rented a touring bike at Riga Bike Tours and Rent.  In November there was only one shop renting bikes. The high temperature the day I rented was 35 Fahrenheit. It was the only day it didn’t rain.  I rode for about 90 minutes along the river until I got thoroughly cold.  The rate for the day was 7 Euros, but he only charged me five for the short ride. 

BERLIN

In Berlin, I had another one-day rental. Again, not a lot of options in November when the high temperature was in the mid 30s. The rate was 20 Euros for a day or an hour. I rode around the center of the city in the area of the central park called Tiergarten.  Two years ago I was in Berlin in July and the bike culture was evident everywhere.  There are bike lanes, bike paths, bike racks, and people riding fast and slow in suits and spandex all over the place. It is a really bike-friendly city. 

LUXEMBOURG

In Luxembourg, I rode one of the city bikes.  They were easy to use. For three Euros I could ride the whole day.  I rode up and down a long hill to a medieval village in the middle of the city, below city hall.

In 2017, I rode from Belgrade, Serbia, to Lviv, Ukraine, and part of the way back to Germany. I rode a Surly steel bike with flat handlebars and an 8-speed gear set in the rear hub.  This was the first—and last—time I rode with panniers. Carrying gear on a bike is Heaven for some people, but not for me.  After the ride across Eastern Europe, I spent a week with an old friend in Darmstadt, Germany.  He is a monk. I donated the bike to the monastery.  

On this trip, when I visited my friend Cliff, the bike was there and ready to ride. I rode to nearby Frankenstein’s Castle. It’s a beautiful road, climbing steeply up for three miles of smooth switchbacks. It was repaved in 2016.  After the slow climb up, I had a fast ride down.  The Brothers at the monastery prefer their touring-style bikes and only occasionally ride the Surly. So it is there when I visit and for other visitors who might want a faster ride than the balloon-tire bikes the Brothers ride.

I have ridden in more than 30 countries on five continents over the past 20 years, including most of the countries in Europe between Portugal and Ukraine. I am not a careful person. 

Steel Vintage Bikes: Awesome Cafe in Berlin

Steel Vintage Bikes in Berlin is a café decorated with steel racing bikes from the second half of the 20^th Century. They also roast their own beans. When I walked in on a rainy evening, they had just finished roasting Rwandan beans.  I had a double espresso and walked around the café snapping pictures.  I brought home a bag of their coffee.  

Nuts About Cycling: The Next Call After a Broken Collarbone

My collarbone after I crashed

Twenty-five years ago, in 1994, I decided to get a vasectomy, but it was spring and I knew it would mean a week or more off the bike.  I thought I would wait till cold weather in the fall.

One Saturday in April of that year, I was riding rolling hills. I went down a mile-long hill in an aero tuck until I could feel the bike losing momentum.

I stood up to crank hard on the pedals and attack the hill. 

Then I was in the ditch on the side of the road.  When I stood, my right crank snapped in the middle.  I flipped over the handlebars and landed on my shoulder. 

In the ditch I tried to get up, but when I moved my right arm, I heard crunching coming from my collarbone—like potato chips were being stepped on.

I had smashed my collarbone.  A nice person with one of those big early cell phones came by and called me an ambulance. 

At the hospital, the emergency room doctor stuck his finger in my shoulder at the site of the break. I groaned in pain. He smiled.

“You smashed the collarbone,” he said.  “It will heal up great with no surgery if you don’t move it too much.” 

They strapped my right arm to my side and sent me home.  For the next three weeks I heard a lot of crunching if I moved the wrong way. 

Then I realized this cloud had a silver lining.  Monday morning, first thing, I called the urologist and said, “Can you get me in this week?”  They had an opening on Thursday. 

When I showed up the nurse and then the doctor asked if I wanted to let the collarbone heal up before the surgery. “No,” I said. “I’m in pain anyway. Let’s go.”

The collarbone healed, the surgery was successful and if someone asks how much I love cycling, I can say, “I’m nuts about it.”