2013 Bike-to-Work Day

Today is Bike-to-Work Day in West Bend, part of National Bike Month. Early this morning I made the trip up the Eisenbahn State Trail to Rivershores, paused for just a few minutes to talk with friends, then hurried back to where my job gets done: home. This is my third spring as a home-based employee. From 2001 through 2010, I made a 70-mile roundtrip commute between West Bend and Brookfield, five days a week. For me, what once was impractical to do by bicycle is now unnecessary.

There was a time when commuting by bicycle would have been my best option, but I failed to realize it. In the early 1990s I lived on the east side of Milwaukee and worked downtown. It would have made a lot of sense to take a bike to work, but I didn’t own one. Instead I took the bus or spent a lot of money on parking for my car.

If I had been a bike commuter, then perhaps today I would be more interested in their advocacy efforts and more sensitive to their calls for protected bike lanes and other infrastructure designed to keep bikes and motor vehicles separated. But that’s not how things played out. For me, cycling is recreation not transportation. Intellectually I get what the commuters are saying, but I don’t feel any kinship with them.

That makes me even more emotionally distant from the organization behind the new Urban Cycling Hall of Fame. Apparently, we’re now going to give formal recognition to bike couriers and alleycat race winners for their extraordinary contributions to cycling. Really? Maybe I shouldn’t be surprised; reality television already has created celebrities out of working-class nobodies from almost every imaginable profession, however mundane.

Call me old fashioned, but I like my halls of fame to be pretty damned obvious in scope and mission. At the Baseball Hall of Fame in Cooperstown NY, you might accidentally learn about a great player whose name you didn’t know before, but you go there because of players like Babe Ruth, Ted Williams, Hank Aaron and Willie Mays. Their exploits surpassed well-known and became legendary; no one need insist upon their greatness.

The Urban Cycling Hall of Fame, I’m sure, will be nothing more than a circle jerk of hipsters armed with GoPro video cameras and an unhealthy contempt for traffic laws. This morning in West Bend, I observed two dozen bike commuters riding sensibly and lawfully. If you want to be an advocate for cycling, just do more of that.

Something Different

See, I don't always go through Newburg. Today's route took me around West Bend, counter-clockwise.

Today’s ride didn’t take me anywhere I had not been before, but it was enjoyable for its novelty nonetheless. There are some roads that I almost always ride in just one direction. Take Congress Drive, for example. For every time I ride it southbound from Newburg, I probably ride it twenty times northbound. I was a little pressed for time after work today, so I stayed close to home for a fast 25 miles over a route that combined familiar roads in a way that was new to me.

I had less time than usual because I had promised to help with trail construction at Pleasant Valley Park. I was there for two hours with two other volunteers and we made good progress. A 1-mile section of beginner-friendly trail should be ready to open soon. It will be a while for the more advanced trail sections, as they will require bridge construction and a lot of additional earth work. When complete, the new system will be a lot like New Fane, but you won’t need a state trail pass. I’m looking forward to having another option.

Us And Them

For as long as this blog has existed, it has carried a banner that reads, “Washington County WI: A great place to be a cyclist!” And it’s true that we have hundreds of miles of excellent cycling roads, some terrific trails and dozens of very accomplished riders. But with the gnawing doubt that eventually makes all of us wonder whether the grass is greener on the other side of the fence, lately I have been taking long looks at Ozaukee County.

Something’s different. I can’t say why that should be, it just is. Until 1853, Washington County included all of the land from its current boundary east to Lake Michigan. Ozaukee County didn’t exist politically until it was carved out of Washington County like Eve from Adam’s rib. Even now it’s very easy to cross the county line without realizing that you are doing so. The counties are so alike, and yet whatever the difference is, you can see it in the cycling communities. As well as they get along together, they’re not the same.

On Monday I went to Mequon to join the Belgianwerkx shop ride for the first time. I rode with 20 others on a 31.5-mile route at an average moving speed of 18 mph. In Washington County you can’t find a shop ride that goes that far or that fast, if you can find a shop ride at all.

On Wednesday I joined the Ozaukee Bicycle Club and did its very fast, very competitive group ride for the first time. I was just one rider in a group of about 70. OBC has rides throughout the week, not just on weekends. The Washington County Bicycle Club rides only on every other Saturday. OBC will do more rides in the next three weeks than the WCBC will do all year.

This isn’t a population thing; they have 87,000 people and we have 133,000. So how are they able to create and sustain groups and rides that dwarf ours? I think one answer is that they are not afraid or ashamed to be who they are. Not all of their rides are right for everyone, and they expect people to know the difference. In Washington County it seems like we’re trying so hard to please everyone that we end up pleasing almost no one. We’re convinced that with just a little encouragement that nice lady from our Spinning class or the guy who just bought a $300 hybrid to go “biking” will turn into cyclists. I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve seen someone make the transition.

“Us and them. And after all, we’re only ordinary men.” Except we’re not ordinary at all. That nice lady is in our Spinning class because she got bored with the treadmill and she hasn’t yet discovered the elliptical. That guy on the $300 hybrid likes his every-other-weekend ride on the park path.  They don’t want to be like us.

Should the Washington County cycling community be more like the Ozaukee County cycling community? That question may resolve itself. Without shop rides or club rides to satisfy them here, our riders are turning to Ozaukee County with increasing frequency. And it’s more than a little ironic that most of the OBC rides pass through Washington County. The problem is not with our roads. The problem is our reluctance to say, “This is us, and you are welcome to join us if you are able.”

The Cheesehead Roubaix Elevation Question

Going into last Sunday’s Cheesehead Roubaix, I would have liked to give the riders some idea of how much climbing they would face. But I didn’t have that information. I thought of the route—I still think of the route—as mostly flat. I also thought that actually riding the route would settle the issue. With so much GPS data at our disposal, surely we would have enough consistency in our numbers.

Not quite. I collected my own data, plus readings from the GPS devices of nine other riders. The range was disappointingly large:

2,572
2,507
2,507
2,450
2,234
2,224
2,159
2,082
1,204
1,099

Let’s throw out the highest number. It comes from a rider who took a small detour from the published route. And let’s throw out the two lowest numbers, including my 1,099, as they are so different from the others that they are very unlikely to be accurate. The average of the remaining readings is 2,309.

Here’s where marketing comes into play. When I promote Cheesehead Roubaix next year—assuming no course changes—I can say it has more than 2,000 feet of climbing or about 2,300 feet of climbing. That’s accurate enough in that context, though I’d really like a hard answer.

But even if I had an irrefutable number from the US Geological Survey, it still wouldn’t settle the question of whether Cheesehead Roubaix is “flat.” I’m the guy who thinks Lovers Lane is beautiful, so clearly beauty is in the eye of the beholder. I think that goes for flat vs. hilly too.

Not The Welcome I Expected

Last Friday the DNR opened the mountain bike trails in the Northern Kettle Moraine State Forest. That’s 36 days later than the 2012 opening, thanks to a lot of rain and even some April snow. Unaware that the DNR had opened Greenbush and New Fane, last Friday I went to Glacial Blue Hills for my first hour of singletrack in 2013. Right away I was riding cleanly over a couple of areas that had been problematic for me last year, so I felt pretty good about things.

With temperatures in the 80s but very high winds, today I headed to New Fane. I was anxious to see those trails for the first time since last September. Apparently, the New Fane trails weren’t anxious to see me.

By definition, a "lap" should end where it started, right?

Nothing seemed amiss during my warmup lap, a 32-minute effort that mirrored my first timed lap last year. (By early summer I was routinely running 26- to 27-minute laps.) But a little more than a mile into my second lap I shifted into my spokes and brought the bike to an abrupt stop. I must have taken a rock strike somewhere along the way, bending my rear derailleur hanger. When eventually I went for the largest sprocket on my cassette, the chain overshot its mark and jammed itself so thoroughly that I literally had to carry the bike back to the parking lot. The rear wheel wouldn’t spin and I had no way to break the chain. The bike is in the shop now. I’m out a couple of spokes and a derailleur hanger for sure … maybe a chain and maybe the derailleur itself.

Whatever. I just want it fixed. Now that the trails are open, I need to become a regular visitor. The Red Eye Rendezvous in Wausau—which I still believe will be my WORS debut in 2013—is just 33 days away. At least the mountain bike isn’t my only bike. Looks like I’m going for a long road ride after work tomorrow afternoon.

2013 Cheesehead Roubaix Photos

Moroder Photography followed the riders around the Cheesehead Roubaix route on Sunday and took dozens of great pictures that really captured the spirit of the event.

Here’s Jessica Helmlinger of Belgianwerkx, showing the boys who’s the boss on Lovers Lane:

Bill Koehler of Belgianwerkx and Matt Kosloske of ISCorp set the pace on Willow Valley Road. I’m sitting in 25th position at this point of the ride:

I spy with my little eye, Quentin Gniot of Big Ring Flyers and Jeff Wren of Team Extreme at the Belgianwerkx rest stop:

Il Cammello in full effect! When I hit the rest stop I had consumed only half of the sports drink in my bottle. I topped off in Belgium and was almost empty by the end of the ride.

I need a more visually-appealing solution for my cuesheets. Clipping them to my shifter cable with clothes pins just ain’t cutting it:

(L-R) Matt Kosloske, Team Wheel & Sprocket's Wade Loberger and I weave our way through Waubedonia Park:

Is that a nervous glance over the shoulder? If I had been with the leaders on the approach to the final hill, I might have expected an attack from Team Pedal Moraine’s Jeff Melcher too!

When I arrived at the same point, all I wanted was not to lock up on the Congress Drive climb:

The 4th Annual Cheesehead Roubaix was a great day on the bike. Next year's ride could be even bigger after this year's riders share the photos and stories with their friends. If you want a taste of the Spring Classics of the European racing calendar, Cheesehead Roubaix is the ride for you. There's nothing else like it in southeastern Wisconsin.

When All The Pieces Fit

Thanks to my friend and Team Pedal Moraine teammate Steve Cummins for the new Cheesehead Roubaix sign!

Today was one of the most perfect days I have ever had as a cyclist. The 2013 Cheesehead Roubaix was a great success. I couldn’t count all of the riders as they assembled in Newburg, but the turnout was easily more than double last year’s attendance … maybe even triple. That’s somewhere between 70 and 90 riders; I really don’t know for sure. Friends, teammates, rivals from mountain bike races and cyclocross, and strangers who soon would become friends rolled out of Firemen’s Park promptly at 9 a.m., bound for a grand adventure.

The signature feature of Cheesehead Roubaix—the dirt and gravel hill climb of Lovers Lane near Boltonville—was an early highlight. Moroder Photography was there to capture the action as the riders struggled to find good lines among the deep ruts in the road. Fans greeted us with cowbells and waved us on with Belgian and Lion of Flanders flags. At the summit we passed under a Dirk Hofman Motorhomes sign and caught a quick glimpse of the chapel of St. John of God before the high-speed descent of Highland Drive. There was no truce at the top this year; Lovers Lane had furnished the 2013 Cheesehead Roubaix with its first selection. The big group that had left Newburg about 30 minutes before was now strung out over a mile and a half.

I was among the last riders to leave Newburg but with a good showing on Lovers Lane I was able to catch some riders with whom I knew I could work. We quickly settled into a strong chasing group that steadily reeled in the leaders. It happened sooner than I expected, and it was almost perversely disappointing. I had done good work with Russell Jobs, Barry Zellmer and others. We earned the “catch,” but at the moment it all came back together the leaders inexplicably slowed as we passed north of Fredonia.

After crossing State Highway 57 we hit the second unpaved sector, and we hit it hard. I had climbed Lovers Lane well and I had worked to bridge a gap, but it was on Willow Valley Road that I knew I was going to perform well all day. I floated along at 22-23 mph and found myself near the front of the ride. I would stay among the leaders all the way into Belgium.

Belgianwerkx—the new bike shop in Mequon—sponsored a rest stop at the village park in Belgium. Riders stopped to grab snacks, refill water bottles, and use the bathrooms. This was the fourth edition of Cheesehead Roubaix but the first one to feature a rest stop. It was a much-appreciated addition.

The lead group reached the rest stop at 10:30 a.m., by which time the cloud cover still had not lifted and the temperature was only 55 degrees. Riders were anxious to resume, knowing that several more unpaved roads would appear in rapid succession. At about the 30-mile mark, I lost the leaders for good. I restarted well—never a certainty after a rest stop—but I simply wasn’t going the hang on in that strong company. Making the right-hand turn at the south end of Sauk Trail Road, I started to work my way back west with Barry Zellmer, a single-speeding Wade Loberger, and others.

That group picked up Matt Kosloske a few miles outside Fredonia as the day was warming rapidly under clearing skies. Matt was out of food and water, so I led him to a mini-mart at the top of the hill west of Waubedonia Park while the others continued without us. With a little caffeine and a few hundred quick calories, Matt made the sort of recovery you’d expect from a 19-year-old and followed me until at Mile 54 we caught a small group that included Belgianwerkx’s Nick Moroder and Jessica Helmlinger. Hitting the last gravel sector at Mile 56.5, I indulged a late surge of adrenaline before cruising to the base of the short-but-steep final climb, Congress Drive. For many riders, that hill was the sting in the tail of the Cheesehead Roubaix route. Appearing at Mile 61, Congress Drive is a great place to get a really bad cramp. I had felt a couple of twinges during the approach on Wausaukee, so I stayed in the saddle and spun up Congress in my easiest gear.

Last year on an almost-identical course I finished Cheesehead Roubaix in 3:52.28, an average of 16.3 mph. This year my total moving time was 3:25:16, an average of 18.4 mph. Light winds helped, as did the cooperation of other riders. My top speed was 33.8 mph on the Highland Drive descent. Total elevation gain was 1,099 feet and calorie burn—an imprecise stat based on effort and body weight—was something like 4,672. That’s a good workout, any way you slice it.

Thank you to everyone who contributed to the success of the ride!  Let’s do it again next year.