In the Dark

Last week I rode in the dark...except it was still mostly light out.  The battery on my computer was dead, and when I took it in to charge it, I forgot and continued to forget it each morning.  Consequently I was riding without feedback from my bike.  No speed.  No grade.  No cadence.  No temperature.  No distance.  No timer.

For the first couple of days I was kicking myself within the first 100 feet away from my driveway.  Then again after the first 100 yards.  Apparently I look at my speed and time often while I ride.  By mid-week I was looking less, and was not kicking myself so hard because I didn't miss the digital feedback so much. 

Yes, I still missed the speed read-out, but I paid greater attention to my internal feedback.  As I listened to my legs (as opposed to the Jens Voigt approach) I found a slightly different position to ride in that gave me more strength and better endurance.  I found gauging myself was a little easier.  I'm not a racer, but I do compete with myself, and I returned a little bit to enjoying the ride and not worrying so much about the time-trial version of commuting.

Now that "actual" darkness is creeping in (with the change of season), I'm looking forward to pulling out The Commuter.  My commuter is  a single-speed.  Which means I get to sit back and enjoy the ride a little more.  This past week "in the dark" reminded me that the non-competitive season is worth as much as the competitive.

By the way, I was only 10 seconds off of my fastest time this morning!  Despite the lack of light.

Ode to Ice Cream

Maggie Moo's, I love you so.
You're flavorful and kind.
And when I lumber out your door,
you stick to my behind.

Leather and Rain

This morning I determined that I would NOT wimp out on my commute because of a little rain...or even for a lot of rain.  I donned my rain coat and headed out the door.  The rain was not nearly as big as it sounded from inside, so it ended up being a pleasent ride. 

BUT I forgot to put the rain cover on my leather saddle!  I was half-way to work when I realized this.  I thought through the possibilities in my mind:

• Stop and put the cover on the saddle.
• Keep going and do not get off the saddle until I'm out of the rain.  (This method was only an option because my saddle bag pretty well protects the underside of the saddle.)

I kept going.  As I expected, when I arrived at work the saddle was mostly dry.  Whew!  The last thing I want to do is ruin my Brooks. 

It's really time to get my foul weather commuter up and running again.