Sunday was another 3 Ride Day on Racer the tandem. First, we got Daniel on with minimal effort. We tightened the cages and he actually tried to pedal. For a bit, till his right ankle turned and his heel started hitting the side; then he pulled his feet out altogether and declared that he quit. So we stayed on mostly level ground for a few blocks. We stopped, he got off, and announced "that's it for the week!"
Then Mei got on, with her new helmet. And she did pedal. So we did a long downhill, followed by the inevitable ascent. It was her first climb ever, and she was a bit surprised that cycling is not all beer and skittles, or even flat and easy. But she stuck with it, and is really getting into it.
Speaking of getting into it, Anna insisted on another long ride, around the Capitol. So I pulled on my old Camelback hydration pack; Mei asked how I could stand that stale vinyl taste, while Anna asked if I could possibly look any dorkier. I ignored them as I sucked down my Gu and luxuriated in the warm glow of my Chamois Butt'r (though I did tell Anna she could pretend she wasn't with me). Thing was, I had realized that part of my problem on the last couple long tandem rides was that I didn't take them seriously and got dehydrated. It's really hard for me -- almost impossible --to get the bottle out of the cage while riding, due I guess to the upright handle bars, so the Camelbak is a necessity.
And it worked. I never did get overwhelmed, overpowered, or overheated. Anna and I took a roundabout swing toward downtown; at one point we heard a soft honking as we waited for a light to change -- we looked over and saw a Madison city bus, its signature gray-bearded driver smiling at us and giving us a thumbs-up; Racer the tandem certainly does stand out. Ultimately we went down the Southwest Bike Trail, and over to Lake Monona. Twas a hot morning, but not unbearable, and the sun gleaming over the lake was a beautiful sight. We went past a few fishermen, who greeted our arrival with pure indifference, and a few geese, who murmured greetings. The idyllic air was a bit tarnished, though, by the not unusual sight of some bearded men sprawled along the lake in grimy sleeping bags; a reminder that not everything is as it should be. I've never really understood the draw of Madison for homeless folks, unless maybe it's a lingering aura from the 70s or Willy Street. Maybe it's because the cops here are generally laid-back and tolerant -- at least until Walker gets around to enlisting a Gestapo approach.
We also had a near collision, too, as a young woman at the tail end of pod of cyclists wasn't paying attention and nearly veered in front of us. I yelled, she swerved and stopped, a woman behind her nearly rammed her. But nothing significant happened. "Well," Anna said, as we resumed our trip. "That was interesting." Indeed.
So we headed on along the Lake, down the afore-mentioned Willy Street for a bit, then back up to the Capitol, past the anti-Walker hunger striker --"Day 43" -- although as Anna noted, "he doesn't look like he's missed that many meals; I don't think you can live more than 30 days without food." Such a cynic we are raising.
We rolled home along the SW Bicycle trail, past Mickie's, through and around various pedestians, perambulators, and poodles, accompanied by a cacophony of cardinals and crows. I was impressed by the clip with which we sailed up that gentle grade. -- I've noticed that the tandem really flies on flats and gentle uphills; steep climbs are slow and steady and hard, but doable.
I wonder what it would like to be paired with a hardcore.
Then Mei got on, with her new helmet. And she did pedal. So we did a long downhill, followed by the inevitable ascent. It was her first climb ever, and she was a bit surprised that cycling is not all beer and skittles, or even flat and easy. But she stuck with it, and is really getting into it.
Speaking of getting into it, Anna insisted on another long ride, around the Capitol. So I pulled on my old Camelback hydration pack; Mei asked how I could stand that stale vinyl taste, while Anna asked if I could possibly look any dorkier. I ignored them as I sucked down my Gu and luxuriated in the warm glow of my Chamois Butt'r (though I did tell Anna she could pretend she wasn't with me). Thing was, I had realized that part of my problem on the last couple long tandem rides was that I didn't take them seriously and got dehydrated. It's really hard for me -- almost impossible --to get the bottle out of the cage while riding, due I guess to the upright handle bars, so the Camelbak is a necessity.
And it worked. I never did get overwhelmed, overpowered, or overheated. Anna and I took a roundabout swing toward downtown; at one point we heard a soft honking as we waited for a light to change -- we looked over and saw a Madison city bus, its signature gray-bearded driver smiling at us and giving us a thumbs-up; Racer the tandem certainly does stand out. Ultimately we went down the Southwest Bike Trail, and over to Lake Monona. Twas a hot morning, but not unbearable, and the sun gleaming over the lake was a beautiful sight. We went past a few fishermen, who greeted our arrival with pure indifference, and a few geese, who murmured greetings. The idyllic air was a bit tarnished, though, by the not unusual sight of some bearded men sprawled along the lake in grimy sleeping bags; a reminder that not everything is as it should be. I've never really understood the draw of Madison for homeless folks, unless maybe it's a lingering aura from the 70s or Willy Street. Maybe it's because the cops here are generally laid-back and tolerant -- at least until Walker gets around to enlisting a Gestapo approach.
We also had a near collision, too, as a young woman at the tail end of pod of cyclists wasn't paying attention and nearly veered in front of us. I yelled, she swerved and stopped, a woman behind her nearly rammed her. But nothing significant happened. "Well," Anna said, as we resumed our trip. "That was interesting." Indeed.
So we headed on along the Lake, down the afore-mentioned Willy Street for a bit, then back up to the Capitol, past the anti-Walker hunger striker --"Day 43" -- although as Anna noted, "he doesn't look like he's missed that many meals; I don't think you can live more than 30 days without food." Such a cynic we are raising.
We rolled home along the SW Bicycle trail, past Mickie's, through and around various pedestians, perambulators, and poodles, accompanied by a cacophony of cardinals and crows. I was impressed by the clip with which we sailed up that gentle grade. -- I've noticed that the tandem really flies on flats and gentle uphills; steep climbs are slow and steady and hard, but doable.
I wonder what it would like to be paired with a hardcore.
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