Orny's Cycling Journal

A rider only touches his bicycle in five places: two hands, two feet, and the most sensitive place of all: the saddle.

People are very finicky about their saddles – for good reason – and it can be difficult to predict what will work for any given rider. I have been fortunate that the stock saddles that came with my bicycles worked well for my physiology… until recently.

And this may be where we get into what might be too much information for the sensitive reader. Viewer discretion is advised. You have been warned!

Over the past year or so, after long rides – especially centuries – I’ve experienced an abnormal amount chafing around the sit bones. It’s painful, but heals over a couple days. What’s odd is that I’ve never had this problem in the past.

I was slow to look into specific causes or solutions, mostly because it took a while for me to see the pattern, since it only happened on my (comparatively infrequent) longer rides. But when I finally decided that something had to be done, the obvious places to look were my cycling bib shorts and saddle… and my shorts are fine.

But the saddle… As I said, this is the stock saddle that came with the bike. And looking back on it, I’ve put that bike through more than 24,000 outdoor miles, plus another 11,000 miles on the indoor trainer. The saddle still works fine for me, but it does show signs of wear after nine years and 35,000+ miles of use!

Specifically, the saddle’s cover is worn, with the underlying material showing through in places, as you can see in the following two photos. But that shouldn’t have any impact on its functionality, should it?

In those photos (as always, click for bigness), there are at least four different layers of saddle material showing.

The outermost layer is glossy, ivory colored, and near the saddle’s centerline. This is the original outer layer of the saddle, and probably is some plasticky protective outer coating. The second, whiter layer is the textured cover material itself, probably leather, that shows through where the clear overcoat has peeled off.

Where I’ve worn through the white leather surface is third layer that probably started as light tan, but turns a dark grey over time. And finally, beneath that are a couple rough, black, patches of hard foam-like material.

The glossy outermost protective layer is quite smooth, but each subsequent layer becomes more tacky and sticky than the last. While Lyrca bike shorts would move and slide easily on the whiter surfaces, they would adhere to the softer, worn dark patches.

And I think that’s where my problem is. While riding, as you pump your legs and move around on the saddle, your bike shorts should stay in one place on your body, but freely slide around on top of the saddle.

But if your shorts stick to the saddle then they can’t slide around, and all that movement between your saddle and your shorts turns into movement between the shorts and your skin! It’s no wonder my ass was raw after a ride of seven hours and 30,000 pedal strokes!

Testing this hypothesis was easy, because I have two other (older) bikes with saddles that are in better condition. I could just swap out the saddle and see if the problem went away.

But the timing of this revelation wasn’t great, because it was just before my planned PMTCC 3-State century (ride report), and if there’s one single inviolable canonical rule in cycling, it’s this: never change your equipment just before a major ride. So I rode the century on the old saddle; at least the resulting sores would give me something to judge the replacement saddle’s performance against!

But after the century, I made the swap, and results so far have been promising on rides of 20, 35, and 50 miles.

Kinda weird to think that I’ve actually worn out a saddle!

Of course, the replacement saddle is black, while the old one was white, which matched my handlebar tape. So I’ll have to spend some time trying to procure my preferred saddle in white, which was a rarity even before the Covid-19 pandemic obliterated the bicycle industry’s supply chain. But having a spare saddle lying around has bought me time to make that happen.

Or I could just change to black bar tape. Or red, which would also match by bike frame.

But either way, thanks to how difficult it has become to get bike parts, my steed has started looking like a bit of a Frankenbike.

After over nine feet of snow and months of record-setting cold temperatures, Friday night we finally broke out of the 30s, providing a perfectly-timed weekend of 50s and even 60s.

I took this long-overdue first opportunity to hit the pavement on my R2-Di2, starting with a 65-mile ride up through Winchester and then along my usual Quad route, returning via Dinosaur/MCC/Page/Grove. When I got to Lexington green, I had to surrender my bench, which was commandeered by a marauding band of redcoats. Shit that happens when you live in the colonies…

Despite our cold weather, the snow had ample time to melt, so there were thankfully few places where I had to plow through runoff.

I also tested out my new Bontrager (read: not-Garmin) HRM, which worked very well. I’d been struggling to get my two Garmin straps to work throughout the past two months of indoor trainer workouts.

While the miles were fine, there was a brutal wind (25 gusting to 40 mph), and I clearly overestimated how much climbing I could handle. As I phrased it in my Strava update: Spring is pain; pain is strength; strength is life; life is dumb.

After a night’s rest and a morning spent streaming Paris-Roubaix, I followed up on Sunday with a 45-mile ride down through Dover.

And now that they support photo uploads, you’ll probably see more ride photos like the ones above. Even more if you pay attention to activities that show up on my Strava profile.

The fortuitousness of the nice weather’s arrival wasn’t just because it fell on a weekend; it also happened to be the first weekend in my new employer’s most recent “fitness challenge”, which started last Monday. Despite logging my walk to work each day, on Saturday morning I found myself in 32nd place out of 39 participants. But thanks to my 111-mile weekend, by Sunday evening I had passed all my younger colleagues and shot straight up to Numero Uno. As I asked in F*c*book: exactly what part of this is the “challenge?”

Welcome to 2015. All passengers please secure you belongings; we’re under way!

Bicycling magazine used to have a monthly feature called “The Big Question”, queries which solicited short, witty contributions from readers. After my recent review of my old magazines, I decided to post my responses to a few of them. I’m sorry they’re more serious than witty, but that’s my nature, and hopefully they’ll give you a little more knowledge about me as a cyclist.

How did you get into cycling?

When I moved into Boston, I spent several years inline skating. For some reason, I decided to start commuting to work (2 miles) by bike, and then the challenge of a long ride started to call to me.

Who would you most like to turn into a cyclist?

Without question, my former, future, and present significant others. Part of that is to promote healthy activity, but the other half is to share all the beautiful places I’ve seen and experiences I’ve had in the saddle, which just can’t be communicated in words. It’s a part of my life that they have never been able to share or fully appreciate.

When do you feel most like a cyclist?
What’s your bike’s favorite season?

This one’s easy: late summer. Winter’s too cold, and spring is beset by strong headwinds and the painful process of training up to peak fitness. In late summer, it’s still beautifully warm out, but with all one’s major events done, one can forget training and ride for the pure enjoyment of it, reveling in the ease that comes with peak fitness.

How did you pick your bike?

First I identified the criteria I’d use to make a decision. Second, I reviewed the literature to identify bikes that would meet those criteria. Then I went out and rode lots of bikes, because the real final determiner is how the bike feels under you. Then I bought from the closest LBS to my house.

How do you know when you’ve found the right bike?

When it feels like a part of you, allowing you to move through the world almost effortlessly.

What does your bike want?

The Plastic Bullet would love to have its youthful vigor and health back. After 12,000 miles of riding, it’s had tires, wheels, cranks, bottom bracket, chainrings, chains, cassettes, and a brake/shift lever replaced, and the frame has acquired a bunch of little dings. It’s starting to look a bit beat, but it should continue to serve for a while yet.

What gender is your bike?

My bike doesn’t have a gender. “Bicycle” *is* a gender.

Old-school or cutting-edge?

Cutting-edge, no question. I never want to become one of those old-school cranks with their Brooks saddles and Sturmey-Archer hubs and DPW-surplus reflective vests.

Eat to ride or ride to eat?

Can you tell me any reason why I should need to choose between them?

Faster climb or faster sprint?

Climbs have always motivated me, whereas sprints just seem like typical male dicksizing. And I’ve never been a fast-twitch muscle fiber guy. My sprint lasts about 3400 milliseconds.

Faster or farther?

Definitely farther. See previous question! Plus by going farther you get to see more interesting places. Going faster just means you’re less present to experience the beauty of the locale you’re riding through.

How far do you go?

How far *can* I go?

What finally makes you quit?

My knees are rapidly going to hell, and I get terrible neck pain on longer rides. I was always surprised that lack of strength is never the limiting factor; instead, it’s these niggling little incapacities that have nothing to do with your actual stamina, endurance, and desire.

When do you go slow?

I go slow a fair amount of the time. Unless you’re training, there’s no real need to push yourself to go faster.

What’s the best cycling advice you ever got?

Probably the best suggestion was a meta-suggestion: go check out the rides Bobby Mac puts on at Quad Cycles. I have to credit Bobby with nurturing the inspiration, drive, and know-how for me to develop into an experienced and accomplished cyclist.

What’s the dumbest thing you’ve ever done on a bike?

This is a tough one, but I think my big childhood bike accident qualifies. A friend grabbed my baseball glove and rode off. When I caught up to him on my bike, I veered into him sideways to intimidate him so that he’d give it back. In the process, his pedal went into the spokes of my front wheel, and I instantly was thrown over the bars. Not my best planned strategy.

What makes a ride great?

A great ride consists of enjoying the spectacle of nature, the inner quietness that comes with focused riding, the physical ease that comes with peak fitness, and sharing all of that with close friends.

What did you smell on your last ride?

It’s spring, so typical seasonal smells include dogwood, lilacs, spreadered manure, and the cool, watery smell of lakes and rivers.

Where’s the best place to end a ride?

The ice cream shop, duh!

How has cycling changed you?
Has cycling made you a better person?

Absolutely. I’m healthier, wealthier, more philanthropic, and more at peace with nature, all because I’m a cyclist.

What’s the greatest thing you’ve ever done on a bike?

I don’t think I could answer this any other way than to say that I have derived a ton of satisfaction from the $60,000 I’ve raised (so far) for cancer research by riding in the Pan-Mass Challenge.

What was your best moment on a bike?

This is a tough one, but the thing that immediately comes to mind is the first time I crossed the PMC finish line in Provincetown.

What was your toughest mile?

At 112 miles, the first day of the PMC is always tough. Although that first time I finished in Provincetown was also hard, because I was having severe knee pain.

How is bicycling like a religion?

Cycling has its own ethics and culture, along with many different “sects”. Cycling is a solitary activity that promotes quiet contemplation. Cyclists know that although we each understand the joy of the ride, it’s something that can’t be communicated in words to someone who hasn’t experienced it themselves. Even between cyclists, that feeling can only be shared, not fully captured in words.

Why don’t the others understand?

Because they view the bike in a very limited way. There’s one thing that bicycles share with automobiles and trains and motorcycles, which is a sense of freedom and exploration. That’s why all these conveyances inspire enthusiast groups who all share a very similar kind of passionate devotion. If you compare cycling to the great American love affair with the automobile and the open road, you will actually see an awful lot of similarities.

What’s cycling’s greatest lesson?

Simplicity of life has immense payoffs that easily eclipse the hectic, self-obsessed, compulsiveness and materialism of modern life.

So yesterday I rode. And rode. And rode and rode. And rode and rode and rode and rode and rode and rode. That’s one “rode” per hour I was in the saddle. Yeah. From 6am to 6pm, plus or minus four brief rest stops.

It was my first attempt at the Boston Brevet Series 200k.

First, what’s a brevet? A brevet or randonnée is an organized long-distance bicycle ride. Cyclists—who, in this discipline, are referred to as randonneurs—follow a designated but unmarked route (usually 200km to 1200km), passing through check-point controls, and must complete the course within specified time limits. Randonnée is a French word which loosely translates to ‘ramble’ or ‘long journey’. Brevet means ‘certificate’ and refers to the card carried by randonneurs which gets stamped at controls; it is also used to refer to the event itself. Randonneurs do not compete against other cyclists; randonnées are a test of endurance, self-sufficiency, and cyclo-touring skills.

The ultimate randonnées are Paris-Brest-Paris and Boston-Montréal-Boston, both of which are 1200k (750 miles). You must complete a series of four brevets of increasing distance to qualify for PBP or BMB: the lengths of those qualifying rides are 200k (125 miles), 300k (190 miles), 400k (250 miles), and 600k (375 miles).

I’ve wanted to at least try this ride for several years. The problem is that the 200k is held on the first weekend in May, when it’s just as likely to be 40 degrees and snowing as 60 degrees and sunny. And coming so early, it’s difficult to get enough training miles in before the event. However, this year I started commuting to Woburn in March, which enabled me to get over 600 miles in during the past six weeks. So I was in better shape this year than ever before.

I’ve done a number of double metric (200k) rides, although none of them were official randonnées. I’ve stretched the first day of the Pan-Mass into a double metric, and that wasn’t unmanageable at all, although that takes place at the peak of my training in August. And for this event, I would also have to bike home from the finish, which would add another hour in the saddle. It was going to be by far the longest one-day ride I’ve ever attempted.

The good news was that I had a friend in Lexington who put me up the night before, which meant that I only had a six-mile ride to the 7am start. I registered and got my brevet card, then hung around for a while as the hundred-fifty-odd riders were staged out of the parking lot at Hanscom Field. I departed at about 7:15am. The temperature was near 60 degrees, and the sky was mostly clear, but the weatherman said there’d be increasing clouds and a 20 percent chance of a sprinkle.

The route profile is pretty straightforward. There are two rest stops that divide the course into three segments: the first and last segments are both pretty flat, except for two small spikers. The middle of the course, however, is all mountains. There are five main peaks. The first one takes the rider up to 750 feet just before the first checkpoint, sort of as a shot across the bow, before the four-mountain middle section.

That first segment was a nice ride: I was always with a group of riders, conserving my energy, until shortly before we got to that first climb. I made it into the checkpoint at New Boston, New Hampshire at 10:14am, and noticed that it had really clouded over. I stripped off my jacket, loaded up on food and water, got my brevet card signed, and headed out for the hard part of the course.

This was only the second time I’ve ridden from one state into the next, and both times it was into New Hampshire. The first time, I started out from my house in Boston, but only just crossed the border into Salem and came home, whereas this time I got a good 25 miles into New Hampshire, and probably half of the brevet was north of the border.

Almost as soon as I left the New Boston control, it started sprinkling, and it continued sprinkling intermittently throughout the afternoon, although at least it wasn’t cold. This middle segment was a rapid succession of leg-breaking climbs followed by screaming descents. Over the next three hours I yoyoed from a starting elevation of 440’ up to 835’, down to 235’, up to 890’, back down to 450’, back up to 1030’, 475’, 825’, then back down to 250’ for the second checkpoint, where I arrived at 1:04pm.

The final segment had us return to Bedford the same way we’d come. It was mostly flat except for those two spikers I mentioned before, which were considerably harder with seven hours in our legs already. But I managed to get back to Hanscom, and gladly so. I had expected a time in the 7-8 hour range, but I think I wound up on the road about eight and a half hours. Eventually my time will be posted on the BBS 2006 Results page.

One thing I made sure to do as soon as I finished was get my medal. One of the reasons I wanted to do the ride was to come away with some commemorative hardware, since the PMC doesn’t do any such thing, and I’d like to have something to show people that I’m a serious and somewhat accomplished cyclist.

After that, I took a well-earned break, sitting around talking with other riders at the finish, the sun having broken through the clouds once again. Eventually I limped back to Boston and collapsed on my bed before taking a long shower and making a big ole curry for supper.

By the halfway point of the ride, certain parts of my body had lodged formal complaints, and I was in a lot of pain by the time I got home. My neck muscles were extremely painful, although that’s something I’ve encountered before. However, my left knee and right ankle were also in a great deal of pain, and they’ll need some recovery time, because today I could barely walk at all. It makes me question whether doing any longer distances would be desirable at all, although there’s some possibility that I might try a 300k that they’re holding in July. We’ll see how I feel about it once we get there. There’s something to be said for medals, although you definitely have to work hard to earn them, and the 300k requires some night riding.

If you’re wondering what the final tally is, yesterday I spent 9 hours, 33 minutes in the saddle over 12 hours of clock time, covering 153.5 miles with over 6000’ of climbing hills with grades as high as 13% at an average speed of 15.7 mph and a max speed of 44.8 mph. I actually finished the brevet with an average of 16 mph, but that declined due to my leisurely ride back to Boston.

And I think I could be quite happy if I never exceed that one-day distance again in my life!