Mother Nature Knows Best
Posted on Tuesday, March 3rd, 2009
It wasn’t supposed to work out this way. “It” being me in Cheyenne with my road bike and gale force winds and Jackson enjoying blue skies and a foot of fresh snow.
I don’t mind giving up a weekend of great skiing to get in my first outdoor road rides of the season. But I haven’t gotten any road rides in. What have I got? The longest 26 minutes and 33 seconds of my life. On what very well might be the world’s oldest elliptical machine in the basement of the place I’m staying.
It hasn’t been for lack of trying though.
Last Wednesday, when I was getting all excited to ride outside for the first time since November 28, the weather channel neglected to mention Cheyenne was set for several days of winds – and we’re talking steady gales here, not gusts – in the neighborhood of 135 miles per hour. (Note: This is just my amateur guesstimate based purely on television footage I’ve seen of hurricane winds.)
But I thought I could take them on. My first full day in town, fortified with the best green chili burrito I’ve ever had (if you’re ever in Cheyenne don’t miss it: Luxury Diner, 1401 W. Lincolnway), I drove out past the strip mall hell that has unfortunately become Cheyenne’s main drag. I found Horse Creek Road, which trusted sources said I could count on for a 60 mile out-and-back ride. Arriving there, I could see why it got five stars on mapmyride.com. There was a big shoulder and little traffic. But, what was this? The wind was batting my parked car – a 3,000-some pound GMC Savana – around like a toy.
I opened the side door from the inside, pushed my bike out, and then followed myself. A battalion of tumbleweeds came at me. I stood my ground, locking, and shutting the door. I noticed Horse Creek headed directly into the wind. “Wind is the best training partner,” I told myself. I maneuvered my bike onto the shoulder. I got on. I clipped in. I pedaled. Or rather, I tried to pedal. I clicked into my easiest gear faster than you can say “I can’t believe I gave up face shots for this.” I was in a gear I don’t even need when riding up Teton Pass. But there I was in my 34/27. On a totally flat road.
I got moving. 5.1 miles per hour. One hundred feet up the road, the wind ripped the sunglasses from my face. 4.5 miles per hour. I collected them and continued on. Aberrant gusts from the sides first pushed me one way – into the dirt – and then the other – into the road. 4.9 miles per hour. It was like I was practicing my standing stop. At .2 of a mile (notice that decimal point), I decided I didn’t need to be this stubborn and turned around.
Without a single pedal stroke, I headed back to the van at a brisk 15 miles an hour. Wait, 17 miles an hour. And then, just as I drew even with the van, 18.2 miles an hour.
Enter the elliptical machine. And bitterness that I traded a weekend of powder for the possibility of riding my road bike outside.
I’ve been in Wyoming long enough to know you shouldn’t shoot to do any sport that doesn’t involve snow (or ice) in February. A few too many mind-numbing workouts on the indoor bike trainer can make you think crazy, though.
There had still better be some great snow when I get home.
When not breaking endurance records, freelance writer and über athlete Dina Mishev blogs on Fleece Fashionista.
Sorry, Dina. It’s raining this morning.
I second Swift. A few more days of this melting craziness and your biggest cycling obstacle will be the flooded streets.
I’ve put fenders on my single speed in anticipation of an upcoming outside ride here!