In Which Pedal Anxiety is Misplaced

I’ve had a minor biking plan involving pedals for some time.

We have a lady’s bicycle that my daughters often ride, which was generously given to us by my sister, specifically for my daughters to ride.

And that bicycle had double-sided pedals, with one side for bike shoe clips, and other for regular shoes.

None of my daughters who rides that bike has bike shoes.

Last year, before RAGBRAI, I replaced the pedals on my road bike, and discovered that having biking shoes and clips are a good thing. I purchased double-sided pedals and a pair of bike shoes. The results were good—in particular because, unlike many bikers, I suffered no spills as I got used to the clips.

And I started to think that it would be cool to have similar double-sided pedals on my hybrid bike.

As I mulled the plan this winter (yes, I’ve thought about it for weeks, sometimes I way over plan), two problems occurred to me: 1) I don’t know how universal shoe clips are, and I was concerned the clips on the pedals from my sister’s bike would not work with my bike shoes; and 2) Pedals can be a bit difficult to move—they can require a lot of force to loosen, and I’m not at my best struggling with tools.

So, in my mind, it was always a “should I, or shouldn’t I?” kind of question.

And then I looked at the pedals on the inherited bicycle. They were the same size, brand, model and everything as the pedals I have on my road bike.

So issue 1 was moot. The clips looked like they would be fine with my shoes.

Issue 2? Thursday afternoon, I planned to take a bike ride on a fine sunny Iowa spring day, ending up on campus so I could print mid-term stories for grading. And I decided to be brave and see how hard it would be to swap pedals.

Not at all, as it turned out. The issue with pedals, besides the possibility that they may be so tight that they will be hard to loosen, is that left and right pedals screw in opposite directions. It’s a bit of experimenting to figure out which way to loosen them.

Of the four pedals I had to remove, move and then reinstall, exactly zero proved difficult. The whole project probably took all of 15 minutes, and the “regular” pedals from my hybrid bike are now on the bicycle my daughters ride, and the double-sided pedals on my hybrid bike.

Pedals taken off my sisters bike on ground beside my bike. I was wise enough to keep left and right straight. The pedals are labeled, but keeping them straight without having to depend on the labels was a good move.

Regular pedal on my bike about to be removed, double-sided pedal that has shoe clip on one side and shoe-friendly surface on the other is ready.

After completing the project, I donned my bike shoes and took the hybrid for a ride. I went down the trail to Cedar Lake before heading to campus. The south side of the lake was marked as “closed,” the river crest earlier this week flooded that area. But the trail was already dry, even if you can see debris where the water was.

After circling the lake, I headed to campus and climbed the hill the “hard way” behind the library.

I can’t say the new pedals made it easy to climb that steep hill, but I was distracted and thinking about them as I rode up the hill, and got almost to the top before I really began to feel that I was riding up a steep hill.

Cedar Lake, Thursday afternoon. The barriers below are from flooding earlier this week.

The next day, Friday, I put the toddler seat on the bike, and my wife and I took our 3-year-old grandson to a nearby park. Because we were going to play with him there, I wore regular shoes.

So, success all the way around. It’s nice that I can get more time with clips this year. I’m sure I will use them for RAGBRAI, and riding with them is a bit different. Thank you, sis, once again. I know the bike you have use is intended for my daughters’ use, and it’s still going to be used that way, but the pedals have found a new home.

Grandson enjoyed Friday ride to Noelridge Park.

And, once again, life pulled the joke of the actual job being far less than the imagined one. Too often it seems to work the other way, but I’m glad that this time, it worked this way.

In Which We Learn Why Rivers Flood

Spring sun shines on ice at Ada Hayden Park in Ames. Despite frozen lakes. the ride Monday in Ames was pleasant.

Just in time for spring break, a bit of warmer biking weather has arrived. I have not had time for a long ride yet, and am plowing away at a mountain of grading over the next couple of days, but still, I have managed some pleasant rides.

My wife and I took Monday off to visit our youngest son in Ames—to take him out for lunch, go on a bike ride, hang around for the afternoon and take him out for supper, all to celebrate his freshly earned pHd in math.

We pause to make group image during Monday bike ride in a park in Ames. Bikes (below) are part of public art seen in downtown Ames.

We had a pleasant, if cool, ride around the late at Ada Hayden Park in Ames. Twice around added up to about 7 miles.

Today, it was warmer, but also cloudier and breezier. I had about 90 minutes in the late afternoon that I could devote to biking, so I decided to take my first trip north along the Cedar Valley Nature Trail. And just north of Robins, I unexpectedly reached and early turn-around point, as the trail was suddenly covered in sodden snow.

Three images of where I decided to turn around, north of Robins on the Cedar Valley Nature Trail. A few more warm days needed before this ride.

Well, no run to Lafayette today. I was heading north rather than south because I knew the trail by the river was probably flooded, and seeing how much snow there was still in parts of the countryside perhaps explains why.

Still, today I managed a bit over 14 miles. Does that mean 28 on Wednesday and 56 Thursday? Let’s not talk of Friday.

Two final images from Thursday. Snow beside the trail at the old mile marker sign one mile north of the Boyson Trail Head (above). Newer mile markers that start somewhere else have been installed, too.

Saw these two ducks in small creek as I passed behind Harding Middle School on my way home.

In Which Snow Doesn’t Stop Spring Rides

Me at mid-point of quick late afternoon bike ride on St. Patrick's Day--pause at MMU campus.

St. Patrick’s Day in Iowa: Despite a dry week in the forecast, there was a chance of a dusting Saturday night.

And what a dusting it turned out to be. I went to bed early—a young grandson was staying overnight—and woke up to a suddenly white world, coated with about 2 inches of fluffy white snow.

In October it would have been delightful. Frankly, in March it was still pretty, but we’re kind of over snow, now.

Still, it’s mid-March. The cold of winter is slowly breaking. Snow fell Saturday night. My plan for Sunday was to ride a bicycle downtown to check out the big St. Patrick’s Parade—the SaPaDaPaSo Parade—in Cedar Rapids.

Saw this eagle (above and below) Friday on bike ride home. Went down the trail to Cedar Lake.

Birds and ice on Cedar Lake.

It's still cold in Iowa--lows in the 20s Fahrenheit, and, if we are lucky, a high around 40. Warmer weather is coming this week, but despite the chill in the air, the sun is warming the earth and some things are coming to life. The asphalt of the Cedar River Trail was warm enough for this guy to be out crawling around.

Well, you know what they say about best laid plans. What with church, lunch out with family, snow, etc., I ran out of time and ended up driving down to the parade. But by late afternoon, the morning snow was just a memory, melted away by the March sun, and I took the road bike out for a quick ride.

I went to campus and back because I didn’t have more than an hour for a ride. But Friday, on the way home, I had taken the time to ride down to Cedar Lake—and enjoyed seeing an eagle there on a pretty, partly cloudy afternoon.

Snow—it fell. But it melted. And the riding rolls on.

On the way home Friday--had to walk a for a while behind Harding Middle School. Spent milkweed (below) in creek bed behind school.

Pretty spring afternoon on Friday, two views of the sky on the ride home.

In Which a Flat Won’t Delay Spring

Friday morning--cool and cloudy, with a chill wind blowing. It's about 30 degrees, in the upper teens with wind chill--but a nice ride nonetheless--no ice on C Avenue sidewalk!

The morning ride started on a disconcerting note. Because I was not sure of how wet the ride might be—my own sidewalk, bounded, by melting snow, is damp—I was going to take the mountain bike.

But the front tyre was flat.

Rather than drive, I decided to chance it on the hybrid bike. And it was a gamble that paid off—the little patch of damp right in front of my house was really all there was. The glacier that was C Avenue’s sidewalk has receded! The icy corner of C Avenue and Brentwood Drive is not merely slightly messy—the detritus left when the glacier receded.

Farther south, the C Avenue bike line beyond Colllins Road was rather messy, strews with rocks and other debris, still covered here and there in ice—but fundamentally open and usable.

Riding the C Avenue bike lane for the first time in a long time.

If I get out of here on time I may wonder a bit on my way home. It’s a cool day, and breezy, but the sun is now shining! I may do a second post later with sunnier afternoon images.

Welcome, spring biking season. I’m glad you’ve finally arrived.

In Which the Fall Precedes the Shuffle

Wednesday afternoon--milky sunshine on Cedar River Trail near Cedar Lake.

The problem with C Avenue right now, from a biker’s point of view, is that the sidewalk from north of Walgreens to the corner of Brentwood Drive is almost 100 percent ice covered.

Here and there, a bit of pavement peeks out, and some patches feature bumpy ice. Trust me, if you have to move on ice, you appreciate some bumps. But the many slick spots are scary, especially since this stretch of C Avenue is on an incline.

It’s one thing to navigate ice. Ice on a hill is much more intense.

T

Thursday afternoon view of ice on C Avenue sidewalk. I'm walking my bicycle.

I rode today and Wednesday in this late Iowa winter. The streets on my commuting route are sometimes narrow, but basically nice, bare pavement.

Some sidewalks, on the other hand, are far from fine, and that explains the fall.

The first year I rode RAGBRAI, my training was somewhat constrained by a very sore knee that was slow to heel. That winter, I had slipped while riding on a patch of ice on F Avenue, and after that, I vowed to be more careful.

But nevertheless, he persisted. And he fell.

Some things have changed since in the years since my pre-RAGBRAI tumble. Then, I owned one bicycle, a rather heavy, tall hybrid. I’m amazed looking back how that was the bicycle that first carried me across Iowa.

That hybrid bike had relatively narrow tyres, and a tallish frame—neither condition is helpful on slick surfaces. I landed very hard on my left knee back then, which was sore for months.

Today, I’m a bit more careful. I have three bicycles—a hybrid for nice weather commuting, a road bike for fun and RAGBRAI, and a mountain bike. In winter, I only ride if streets like F Avenue are mostly free of ice, and in winter, I ride the mountain bike with its nice wide tyres.

Wednesday was cold with some clouds in the sky, but there was milky sunshine. I decided to ride the Cedar River Trail home, there to do my first lake check of this young spring riding season, and to enjoy the relatively clear trail.

Looking north from point where creek enters lake.

Clear trail near Cedar Lake. Despite chill, a pretty day.

Cedar Lake in winter.

The ride went well, before the crash. While a bit stark in in winter there is still beauty at Cedar Lake. After circling it and heading north, I enjoyed the late afternoon light peeking through the clouds. I thought the view from the railroad bridge north of Collins Road was particularly pretty.

Pretty light looking down from bridge over tracks.

Well, I went north to Hiawatha, and then headed east to get home. I arrived at Council Street, and turned south. At first, the sidewalk was bare, but I saw ice between me and the Dry Creek Bridge.

And that’s where it happened.

I had ridden the C Avenue sidewalk ice that morning, although I was not sure it was a good idea. My approach to ice riding is to shift down and slow down. I had been in 3 in front, 4 in back, and shifted in to 2-2, a gear I usually use for moderate hill climbing.

So when I reached a particularly polished patch of smooth ice, and my rear wheel slipped violently to the right and the whole bike fell and skittered away from me across the frozen water, I was moving very slowly.

When I had the pre-RAGBRAI fall years ago, it felt instantaneous—no reaction time. I was riding along F Avenue, and the next instant I was on the ground, wondering if I had broken a bone and feeling like maybe I had (I hadn’t, but as I noted, my left knee was angry with me for months).

This fall of March 2019 was not as dramatic. I was moving so slowly that, although I could not prevent the fall, I could sense it and experience it. The slip, the spill, the sprawling on the ground took maybe a tenth of a second, but that was long enough for me to be aware of the whole thing.

After the fall. My Fancy Beast winter bike on the ground.

As I was falling backwards, I spread out my arms and arched my neck. The landing was a bit hard—on ice—but I managed to take the landing in some stages, sort of rolling to the ground rather than crashing all at once. I was wearing a helmet, but by the time my head was landing, I had already eaten up most of the momentum—I didn’t even bang my head, just sort of gently put it down on the ice.

I was also wearing a backpack with a briefcase inside it, and I think that acted as fall-breaking padding.

There I was, on the ground on my back, barely touching the bicycle, which was also laying on the sidewalk.

Well. Assess first. Anything horribly sore? My left leg felt bad, but it seemed to be muscle soreness in the big muscle in back at the top of the leg, and I think maybe I just was able to tune into that ache because I was checking in with my body. The leg was sore, but that muscle soreness was probably just from a longish ride early in the training season—it didn’t seem to be a consequence of the fall.

It took some time for me to struggle to my feet. I’m an old man and don’t stand up well from the floor when I’m indoors, let alone stretched out on slick ice. I managed to stand and managed to pull my bike up. I was sore, as noted, but not really harmed by the fall. The bicycle appeared unscathed—all I had to do was readjust the rearview mirror.

Well. I decided to heed the universe’s message, and walked the rest of the ice. Later, I would end up hiking that half mile across the ice sheet that is the C Avenue sidewalk.

I had to walk that walk on C Avenue again today. Even with snow boots, it’s a bit scary. Still, no spills yet on C Avenue, knock on wood.

And I guess Wednesday’s fall could was not all that traumatic. Thursday, I rode again. Although this time, I was quicker to dismount and walk across the icy places.

The Council Street fall taught me the utility of the ice shuffle.

Sun setting Wednesday, seen from Dry Creek bridge on Council Street.

Dry Creek seen from C Avenue. Some deer crossed the stream as I watched.

Another spot I walk--but only for a few yards at the corner. Most streets are in great shape.

In Which I March Into Spring

8 a.m.--ready to leave.

OK, after my whiney snow post lament yesterday, March 1 was a new day.

There had been a chance of snow yesterday and a minor chance today—but only for potential flurries.

It was, by the standards of this bitter winter, a relatively pleasant morning. My garage door was embedded in ice and sealed shut by Mother Nature, but I sprinkled some deicer at the edge of the door Thursday night.

Friday, I wondered—would the door open? I pressed the button, and there was a brief noise, and the door stuck. And then I worked my way through the cold garage, gripped the door and gave it a brief tug—and pop. It moved up an inch—just an inch, but enough to completely break the ice seal that had glued it to the pavement, and when I pressed the button again, the door went up.

The driveway is a sheet of ice, as is the first half mile of the C Avenue sidewalk. But I knew from drives this week that streets, in general, while unusually narrow, are mostly bare pavement. Despite a forecast for possible snow, the milky sky was actually sunny. Too nice of a morning to entomb myself in metal, if I could find a route.

I wheeled the mountain bike out of the garage and prepared for the trip to campus—long underwear, two pairs of socks, warm winter boots. But it was not a really the full winter regalia—I didn’t bother with a scarf, didn’t put on three layers under my coat, did not even take a hat, depending on the thin hood of my biking jacket to protect my ears.

Halfway to campus, I mildly regretted that final decision, but still, overall, it was a nice ride.

Milky sunshine behind Kenwood School this morning.

Near the golf course at the end of Eastern--the leaning snow person of Cedar Rapids seen in a yard.

It's looking even sunnier as I climb the MMU Hill on Mercy Drive.

I rode my bicycle 40 yards or so west to the corner of Brentwood Drive and C Avenue. The C Avenue sidewalk was, as expected, in terrible shape, with this corner particularly treacherous because a bit of melting had created a smooth ice rink there. Nevertheless, I rode—very slowly. It’s my one biking superpower. I can’t ride fast, but I can balance at incredibly low speeds.

When I got to the first corner, I decided to cross C Avenue and ride the back streets up by Target—adding distance to my ride, but avoiding the C Avenue sidewalk hill climb on ice.

Once past that one small stretch of sidewalk, the ride was uneventful and, except for uncomfortably chilled ears, quite pleasant. An earworm started, U2 singing about streets with no name, although in my mind the chorus was “streets with no snow.”



And the day, while still too cool for the start of March, turned sunny and pretty. I made some images of campus on my way from here to there today, enjoying the sunshine and, for once, not being a mole person, not going everywhere in the tunnels.

I grabbed a coffee on my way across campus--view as I climb the hill to the library early in the afternoon. Despite the snow, it does look a little like spring.

The ride home was similar. The afternoon sky had turned a bit cloudy, and I did turn on my lights and put away my sun glasses—but the day had been sunny enough and warm enough that the streets were, if anything, in better shape.

Bono left me alone, and maybe I missed him. I took a more direct route home, heading over to C Avenue through the Collins Aerospace parking lots from F Avenue. I knew the C Avenue sidewalk would still be terrible, but figured I could walk my bike for a half mile.

The sidewalk by Collins Aerospace was just fine. And as I neared Blairs Ferry Road, near the pond on C Avenue, a large hawk landed on a street light. I took out my camera, but the hawk flew off—but not far, just down to the edge of the frozen pond. As I neared that spot, the bird looked at me over the snow and took to the air, landing on a picnic table kiosk.

Well, cool.

Hawk seen on the ride home on C Avenue, above and below.

On to home. The C Avenue sidewalk was indeed a sheet of ice, and I did walk my bike. I was glad for the winter boots—if I had regular shoes on, I’m sure I would have slipped more than once, but with a slow old man stroll down the hill, I was fine.

True, an Arctic Vortex will again chill this corner of the world—and it’s very unlikely I will try for a repeat ride Monday. True, the C Avenue bike lane south of Collins Road is pretty much covered right now, and thus my usual bicycle route is unusable. But I didn’t have too much trouble biking today, on March 1.

Let’s hope that’s a sign.

Front wheel on C Avenue, I pause briefly on the final walk home. Lots of slick ice and the bike kept trying to skid away from me, but happily no falls. I think I was wise to walk down this hill.