Two-Wheeling Around Town

There's something you should know about me: I never stand on my bike pedals.  It's not that I can't: when I'm going at a reasonable clip, I've practiced getting out of my seat to pump the bicycle.  And when I'm crossing an intersection, I can manage a few feeble turnovers to appease the waiting cars.  But I always sit securely back in my seat just as soon as I can.

My inability to pump a bike has led to some entertaining attempts at hill climbing in California, and promises to lead to some interesting experiences here in New Zealand.

Trusty, but thus-far nameless, beautiful steel-frame
I've been enjoying.  Admittedly, needs a racier seat.

As I've mentioned before, I have a lovely 13 or 14km (depending on how many wrong turns I take) commute into work every day.  Although, after a week of commuting, I'm getting stronger, the time it takes me to make the roughly 8-mile ride varies with the weather and, in particular, the wind.

Here on the Canterbury plains, when you ask someone for the weather, their response includes the wind direction and strength -- for good reason.  Because New Zealanders sit on relatively small islands in the midst of the world's largest ocean, winds bring rapid changes to the weather on a daily -- even hourly -- basis.

Every morning before I hop on my trusty bicycle (who will need a name quite soon, as he is quickly becoming as well-loved as my two at home), I carefully look over the day's forecast, which seems remarkably accurate thusfar.  Especially in comparison to California where, apparently for lack of eventful weather, the forecasters are fond of predicting thunderstorms on days that end up being cloudless.  Typically, the day is cool and calm in the morning, before the wind picks up and either cools us down farther, or brings in some hot dry air from the Northwest.

A typical forecast.  Today started out unusually breezy, but note how calm
it gets overnight, before ramping up in the afternoons!

That means a pleasant morning ride, but the occasional struggle homeward.  Fortunately, the gearing on the 8-speed bike (and my general stubborn determination to pedal against more resistance than I should) has saved me from standing on my pedals, but I'm sure it's just a matter of time.  At least the wind, which tends to gust, has the decency to hit me only straight-on; as the roads here are quite narrow and tend to be bordered by ditches, getting buffeted from the side would be quite frightening.  ((UPDATE: After last afternoon's ride home, I can assure you that the wind does, indeed, often gust from the side.  But I triumphed.  And didn't fall until this morning, when I was stopped at a stop sign and tipped over on the side that was still clipped in.  Oops.  Hopefully everyone had a good laugh. :))

The famed meteorological phenomenon known as the Nor'west Arch.  Pretty?
Yes.  Ominous?  Yes.  The blue gap in the clouds off to the north and west is
produced by those Northwesterlies that are such pests on my ride homeward.

But other than the occasional tough ride, I really enjoy my 40+ minutes to myself each morning and afternoon.  It's a good time to either relax into physical activity while my brain wakes up for the day, or reflect on what I've accomplished and what remains to be done.  And, just as I did while driving across country a year and a half ago, I find myself "writing" while I travel.  Little phrases will come to me, a column will lay itself out in my head, or I'll brainstorm some good titles for the next blog piece.

From last Thursday.  The first clear, sunny morning.

Typical view during my ride.  Sheep, sheep, sheep,
and some cows.  Often I'll see Australian magpies
sharing the paddocks, and the occasional Pukeko
foraging alongside the road.

One of the coolest things about New Zealand is the use of hedgerows as wind-
breaks.  I think they're picturesque, especially when they've grown in and
formed solid walls of greenery.  Unfortunately, the trees planted as windbreaks
are almost always non-native, so these windbreaks become little strips of seed
supply that promote the invasion of pines all over the country.

Lately, I've been trying to tuck a little run in after my ride home and before I wash up for dinner.  According to Li Ling, my personal triathalon expert, the bike-to-run transition takes some practice.  According to my personal experience: it hurts!  Basically, when you spend a long time up on your bike, your muscles get acclimated to that movement, and your body adjusts its blood flow and local ennervation accordingly.  That means I look like something of a klutz when I hit the road for a run, and my ankles complain accordingly.

It's probably a good thing that it'll take me a while to ramp up post-bike mileage, because a couple weeks before I left California I began doing all my running in Vibram fivefingers -- those weird shoes that go around each toe and have been embraced by the barefoot running community.  You're supposed to start really slow and gentle in those things (and for the most part, my feet and calves have been enforcing that rule) for the first two months, but I was getting impatient and starting to put in 4 to 5 mile days in them before I left the States.