Judged against other years, my 2021 cycling season wasn’t bad. It was a refreshing return to a rough approximation of normality after the Covid-19 pandemic mostly cancelled the 2020 season.

In 2021, I enjoyed my first group rides, first centuries, and first major organized event in two years. I also achieved a new record level of fitness, reached Zwift’s maximum experience level, rode my 100th lifetime century, and completed my 16th Pan-Mass Challenge.

Summarized that way, it’s actually a hard year to beat! But I’ve got plenty more to say about it…

Modeling the 2021 PMC jersey in downtown Pittsburgh.

Modeling the 2021 PMC jersey in downtown Pittsburgh.

The first post-Covid Team Decaf group ride

The first post-Covid Team Decaf group ride

Ornoth & Phil overlooking the Ohio River during the Three-State century.

Ornoth & Phil overlooking the Ohio River during the Three-State century.

I completed 42 stages of Zwift's Tour of Watopia.

I completed 42 stages of Zwift's Tour of Watopia.

Banner for achieving Level 50 in Zwift.

Banner for achieving Level 50 in Zwift.

Celebrated completing another Pan-Mass Challenge, backed by my 16 PMC jerseys.

Celebrated completing another Pan-Mass Challenge, backed by my 16 PMC jerseys.

My Original 2021 Goals

A year ago, in the midst of the pandemic and with vaccines just starting to be manufactured, my goals for 2021 were only guesses. However, my predictions were pretty accurate.

Normality

I wanted to be comfortable stopping at convenience stores, so I could resume longer rides than I could on a single water bottle. Following my vaccinations in May, I finished a metric century on June 12th (writeup), and many more long rides thereafter.

I also longed to resume attending group rides, and did my first weekly Team Decaf ride on June 1 (writeup). Over the summer I’d join 14 of their 17 rides.

I wanted to return to my normal major events and century rides. However, most organizers shortened or cancelled their events. And after foregoing one century due to rain, I completed my first big event in two years on September 12: the PMTCC Three-State Century (writeup).

I also addressed my imbalance between indoor and outdoor riding. In 2020, 81% of my total 6,043 miles happened indoors. In 2021, I rode 6,215 miles (10,000 kilometers), and only 56% were on the trainer: a much healthier balance!

Zwift Level 50

After 2½ years, my biggest achievement to chase on Zwift was the game’s top experience level. In April I rode 42 (!) stages of the Tour of Watopia (since it offers double XP) and achieved Level 50 on April 27th, simultaneously setting an all-time fitness record (writeup).

But the cost for riding 860 miles in one month was a case of achilles tendonitis that kept me off the bike for the month of May. Oopsie!

Another Virtual PMC?

After riding all winter with several Pan-Mass Challenge luminaries on Zwift, I rode a second remote PMC, mimicking the distance and climbing of the traditional route. And happily rode outdoors instead of on the trainer!

Although different from the mass participation rides back in Massachusetts, I still enjoyed it, and raised 60% more for cancer research than last year. After 16 PMCs, my lifetime fundraising for Dana-Farber stands at $119,000! (writeup)

And my PMC fulfilled another of my annual goals:

My 100th Century+ Ride

This was the highlight of my year. I wanted to mark this achievement on a major organized ride, however that wasn’t possible. But even though I rode alone, finishing my lifetime 100th century+ on PMC weekend made it special. Read more toward the bottom of my PMC writeup.

Toronto Epic Tour Redux?

My registration for this 2020 ride – planned as a Herd cycling club gathering – was deferred to 2021, but with travel still inadvisable, I took the 50% refund they offered.

Which was fine; the 2021 Epic Tour was held on the same day as the PMTCC Three-State Century, which I rode instead, marking my first major event in two years.

Charts

This year’s fitness charts include a couple significant changes.

First: the static charts you see below are now available on a dynamic Fitness Charts page on my cycling website. They’re automatically updated after every ride to reflect my training throughout the year.

Second: the vertical scale changed on these charts to accommodate my new record fitness. For five years, my CTL (chronic training load) fit onto a vertical axis that ran from 0 to 100, but it now goes to 125, making everything look a little flatter than my previous summaries.

Let’s see what the charts say about my year:

Cycling Fitness: 2011-2021

This 11-year view shows that 2021 was incredibly similar to 2020. Let’s break down the similarities.

Both years began with steady winter training, ramping up to an early peak. In both years those were new fitness records.

However, in both years my fitness then fell quite substantially, dropping back to my long-term average at the end of May.

Over the summers, I maintained my level of fitness. My CTL followed a repeating up-and-down sawtooth pattern as I alternately trained hard, then tapered before major events, then completed a big ride, and recovered afterward. That pattern repeats all summer long.

As usual, my fitness tailed off in the autumn and I took time to recharge before another winter of indoor training.

Those are the similarities between 2020 and 2021. Zooming into this year’s chart in detail highlights some of the differences.

Cycling Fitness: 2021 Calendar Year (vs. average)

In 2020 I reached max fitness in January, whereas this year I timed my buildup a lot better, not peaking until the end of April.

The bad news: this year I lost as much fitness in the single month of May as I lost over four months in 2020, as tendonitis kept me from riding. That’s how I wound up back at the same point on June 1st.

However, another difference is that my fitness throughout this year was about 5% higher than 2020.

Which brings me back to that new fitness record, with my CTL reaching 103.97. Although it has no specific significance, breaking 100 CTL was a long-anticipated achievement, which only happened after my 860-mile blitz in April to reach Level 50 in Zwift.

But the biggest difference this year was how many centuries I completed. After doing 11 indoor centuries in 2020, this year I only did 4 (but three were outdoors)! So let’s talk about:

Riding with PMC President Jarrett Collins in the weekly Zwift group ride.

Riding with PMC President Jarrett Collins in the weekly Zwift group ride.

Proudly showing off the new in-game PMC jersey in Zwift.

Proudly showing off the new in-game PMC jersey in Zwift.

Sunrise on the castle climb in Zwift's new Japan-themed world.

Sunrise on the castle climb in Zwift's new Japan-themed world.

Enjoying the view from a rooftop ride in Zwift's new Neokyo expansion.

Enjoying the view from a rooftop ride in Zwift's new Neokyo expansion.

The Centuries

Starting with the unadorned list:

There are several reasons why I completed only four rides beyond 100 miles.

After doing 11 of them in 2020, I was sick and tired of indoor centuries, so I only did one of those. Solo centuries didn’t excite me, so I completed my PMC ride, plus one other. And Covid limited me to one major event.

I wasn’t motivated to push myself hard, following an intense two years that included 24 centuries (12 indoor/12 outdoor) and 12,600 total miles. After all that, I needed a relaxed year.

But it could also be… aging. Having another year on the odometer, my tolerance for high-intensity efforts is waning. Of course, I’ll continue fighting it, but I don’t relish the effort, since we know how that story inevitably ends.

Additional Highlights

Since indoor riding made up half my mileage, I’ll share a couple noteworthy developments on Zwift.

I began the year as a regular on weekly Pan-Mass Challenge group rides on Zwift that were led by Jarrett Collins, the newly-named PMC President. Those were suspended over the summer, but resumed in November.

To everyone’s delight, Jarrett got Zwift to approve an in-game PMC jersey that riders can unlock for their avatars to wear. The design honors the red tee shirts from the first Pan-Mass Challenge, in 1980. It quickly replaced the Zwift “Level 50” jersey I’d previously preferred!

Zwift also released a major new world called Makuri Islands. The fictionalized version of Japan was released in two phases: “Yumezi” features rural Japanese villages and countryside, and “Neokyo” is a neon-lit urban analogue to Tokyo. Both were well-received, but everyone’s holding their breath, hoping that a Mt. Fuji-like climb will materialize.

In the real world, health issues remained top-of-mind. May was torpedoed by achilles tendonitis, heart palpitations, and Covid vaccinations. I also addressed a longstanding irritation by swapping out my saddle (writeup). Seasonal asthma slowed my autumn riding, and aging-related performance declines remain an annoyance.

Another challenge was getting replacement bike parts due to the collapse of the bike industry’s supply chains in the pandemic’s wake, as well as Mavic’s receivership. My LBS jerry-rigged my recalcitrant rear wheel, but I can’t put high power through the pedals due to worn chainrings that I can’t replace.

Finally, in 2021 I gathered a collection of Strava Local Legend awards, which go to whomever has ridden a road segment most frequently. Here’s some of the segments I was named Local Legend on this year:

Riverview Park is the center of Pittsburgh's cycling universe.

Riverview Park is the center of Pittsburgh's cycling universe.

The Team Decaf group ride stops to admire the Pittsburgh skyline from the Fineview overlook.

The Team Decaf group ride stops to admire the Pittsburgh skyline from the Fineview overlook.

Noteworthy Purchases

Despite the bike industry’s disarray, I made several beneficial acquisitions.

Not a purchase, but (as mentioned above) I swapped out my extremely worn saddle for a less-used one off one of my other bikes. It’s not brand new, but don’t tell that to my butt! (writeup)

My biggest purchase was the new GoPro Hero 10 action video camera and accessories. It was too late in the year to produce much, but I have huge hopes for future rides. Tho I did create this 72-second vid:

Also on the topic of optics… Back in 2015, I bought plastic HydroTac stick-on bifocals that adhere to any pair of glasses with water: perfectly functional and cheaper than prescription sunglasses! This year I bought stronger ones and stuck ‘em on my Oakley sunglasses and some clear lenses I bought for night riding.

For evening and nighttime rides, I added a new headlight: a Niterider Lumina OLED 1200. Featuring LED bulbs and lithium batteries, it’s immensely better than my old AA-powered incandescent one. Along with the action cam, this was my best purchase of the year.

Having trouble procuring my preferred Michelin Power Endurance tires, I tried a pair of Continental GP5000s, a new model in a popular line of road tires. I like them a lot, although I miss my Michelins’ red sidewalls.

Also replaced the Shimano SM-BTR1 battery for my Di2 electronic drivetrain. After 8½ years, its original battery had lost capacity, and I needed a replacement, since they’re being discontinued.

I occasionally replace the caps on my Camelbak Podium Ice insulated water bottles due to mold. I bought four replacement lids after learning they were recently redesigned, making them easier to clean.

Finally, I got new ice cube trays. These ones are nicely-sized. I also got these thinking 2” cubes would work inside a hydration pack, but that proved unnecessary once I was vaccinated and could stop at convenience stores to refuel.

My 2021 cycling calendar/log.

My 2021 cycling calendar/log.

My 2021 Strava "Year in Sport" summary, averaging 62 minutes and 17 miles per day.

My 2021 Strava "Year in Sport" summary, averaging 62 minutes and 17 miles per day.

Blogposts

Goals for 2022

2021 was a big improvement over Covid-plagued 2020. But what will 2022 look like? I’ve got a whole checklist of idears:

  • Going 100% metric
    I’m taking the plunge. Far broader than just cycling, this impacts cooking, weather, travel, health… Don’t you think it’s about time?
  • Another 10,000 km year
    Here is where that transition begins. Having ridden 10,000 km in two of the past three years, my goal for 2022 will be to make it three out of four.
  • More major events
    Most ride organizers are resuming full-length events in 2022. I’m excited to revisit events I’ve missed since 2019.
  • Video ride reports
    It’s been eight years since my last ride video, and the GoPro should produce immensely better results. I wanna see what I can do with it.
  • Another remote PMC?
    I’ll probably sign up for a 17th Pan-Mass Challenge, again remotely. I’m awaiting the event jersey reveal, and considering potential routes. One remote possibility is a two-day, 200-mile ride crossing Western PA from south to north, ending on the shore of Lake Erie.
  • Zwift team time trial?
    I don’t race, but the Herd sponsors several teams for the WTRL team time trial series. The format is intriguing, so I’d like to try it out.
  • Bike repairs?
    This will be a concern until the bicycle industry recovers. My biggest problem is putting down sprinting power without my chain falling off my worn chainrings.

That’s 2021… It could have been better, but it was a big improvement over 2020, and there were several memorable highlights. 2021 fulfilled my hopes of getting closer to normality, and leaves us with the promise of an almost normal year as we roll into 2022.

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?

Saddle facing right
Saddle facing left

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.

It’s been two years since I last participated in an organized century event. But with the 2021 season starting to wind down, last Sunday I completed my fourth PMTCC 3-State Century.

The headline leading into the event had to be the weather. Hurricane Ida swept away the last humid heat of summer, and left Pittsburgh enjoying a delightful string of sunny days with lows in the upper 50s and highs in the 70s. You couldn’t ask for better conditions!

Phil & Ornoth at the Crestview Park overlook in New Cumberland WV

Phil & Ornoth at the Crestview Park overlook in New Cumberland WV

At the teapot rest stop in Chester WV

At the teapot rest stop in Chester WV

Leaving WV on the Newell Toll Bridge

Leaving WV on the Newell Toll Bridge

1/3 mile of very sketchy boardwalk

1/3 mile of very sketchy boardwalk

On the other hand, one could ask for a more reasonable starting time! Riders choosing the 100-mile route had to hit the road at 6:30am to avoid road closures for a 5k run.

With the event beginning on Neville Island – eight miles down the Ohio River from Pittsburgh – that meant an early wake-up call. I staggered awake at 4:15am, downed half a bagel, and drove to the start.

In the pre-dawn darkness, I found I’d parked next to Phil, a longtime riding buddy I hadn’t seen in years. I checked in for the ride, put my bike together, and decided to keep my arm warmers on for a while. We rolled out at 6:40am at 63° with just enough light to see.

This year’s updated route split into two completely different halves. 71% of the climbing (3,850 feet) came in the first 50 miles, while the second half only climbed 1,550 feet, less than 30% of the total. The first half averaged 80 feet per mile of climbing, while the second half averaged a mere 30 (that’s considered pan-flat in Pittsburgh). If you exhausted yourself on the lumpy first half, it would be a long and painful slog home.

The new route began with a pointless 14-mile loop up two major climbs into the Montour Heights, followed by a screaming descent right back down again. I took it casually, mostly riding with Phil and a couple other guys. Then a minor climb along busy Route 51 before I stopped at a construction site’s porta-john while the others rode on. Then another major climb on PA 151 back up the escarpment where Phil was waiting for me for the run into the first rest stop, 25 miles and about two hours in.

The rest stop spit us out directly onto the fourth and final major climb of the day before turning onto a slightly busier US Route 30 for a smaller climb up to the West Virginia border. Just a couple miles later, the route took a new left turn onto WV Route 8 toward New Cumberland. Another change from prior rides, this would give us more time along the Ohio River and increase our riding in West Virginia from 4 miles to 24. We noticed how much the road quality improved over that in Pennsylvania, while the buildings looked shabbier. We crawled along, slowly overcoming a gusty 25 MPH headwind and two more short but steep hills.

When we descended into New Cumberland and met the Ohio River, we took a quick turn onto WV Route 2, then climbed the final hill of the day. I pulled Phil aside for selfies in a small park with a platform overlooking the river, the Stratton flood control dam and locks, and the Sammis coal-fired power plant on the opposite shore. Having ridden 50 miles in three and a half hours with only one break, I had heavy legs and a stiff back, and Phil was hungry. Importantly, this marked the halfway point of the ride, the end of the climbing, and now we had the wind at our backs; we would make much better speed on the homeward leg of the ride.

We quickly covered the 10 miles to the next rest stop, arriving at the World’s Largest Teapot in Chester WV at 11am. This is beneath the Jennings Randolph Bridge where US Route 30 crosses the Ohio, which the normal ride route would take, but is closed this year for construction. So after a short rest and a photo with the “teapot” we backtracked a couple miles to our alternative: the Newell Toll Bridge.

The Newell Toll Bridge is about as small and rickety as you might imagine a bridge built in 1905 would be, although it was rehabbed just 67 years ago! It’s just wide enough for two cars to pass on its metal grate open deck, and pedestrian access is provided by a single run of aging wooden planking hung off the side, with a rusting token railing. Did I mention it’s a suspension bridge? That means the entire bridge deforms, dips, and sways under the weight of passing traffic. In between taking photos at either end, we gingerly rode a third of a mile across the creaking wooden walkway fifty feet above the Ohio River, where I discovered my long-dormant faith in God. The friendly attendants waved us on rather than collect the five-cent pedestrian toll.

Thus began our 5 miles of riding in Ohio (this year’s new route having added two extra miles!) which quickly saw us back across the border into Pennsylvania. We were delighted not to turn left for more inland climbing this year. This whole segment was only 12 miles, so it soon ended at a Subway sandwich shop in Midland PA. It was exactly noon, and we’d covered 70 miles. I was intrigued to see they’d expanded the Subway shop, adding a Dairy Queen counter, but I was heartbroken that it wasn’t open.

After ingesting a meatball sub (after defending it from some insanely persistent hornets) and filling my bottle with ice and cola, we continued up the riverside to Beaver PA, then across the bridge over the Ohio into Monaca (pronounced m’NACK-a, not MON-a-ka). We pulled aside for a quick rest to freshen our legs for a 7-mile all-out sprint down Route 51 to the Ambridge Bridge. Route 51 would be considered a four-lane superhighway if it met state or federal safety requirements, and it’s one of the most dangerous roads in Western PA. However, we survived our passage, crossed the Ohio (again!), and pulled into the final rest stop of the day: Sweetwater Bikes in Ambridge, where I filled up with ice and water. It was 1:50pm and we’d covered 91 miles, with just 7 miles to go!

Having stayed on my tail all day long, Phil was starting to flag, so we continued on at a much more casual pace, proceeding down Beaver Street into the more familiar roads in Sewickley PA. We crossed the Ohio (again!) on the Sewickley Bridge, ambled through Coraopolis, and crossed the backchannel onto Neville Island, where we’d started out eight hours before. We did a quick couple miles up and down Grand Ave to round our ride up to an even 100 miles, with 5,400 feet of climbing.

After putting my bike back in the car, I joined other finishers, where I enjoyed a cola and some pizza after claiming my finisher’s medal, tipping the group’s bartender the $5 bill I had found in the street on a June ride that coincidentally had also gone through Neville Island to Sewickley.

So that’s the ride. Now for some final observations.

As mentioned earlier, this was my first organized century since my Michigan trip back in October 2019, my fourth century of the year, and my 101th century overall. It definitely felt good to be back doing a big, supported group event, and the weather was absolutely perfect.

And it felt good to really thrash my legs on another serious day’s effort. I seem to have escaped without any of the severe night calf cramps that hit me after last month’s PMC.

Phil’s presence made it better, too. He was strong and stayed with me the whole day, even if I did the lion’s share of the pulling. He and I seem to have a similar pace and riding style, dating back even beyond our mutual support leading up to the challenging 2017 Dirty Dozen ride.

The changes to the route were mostly successful. The bonus climbing loop at the start was begrudgingly tolerable, even though I’d rather do something with more value than a pointless loop. The cut across West Virginia Route 8 to New Cumberland and along the river up Route 2 were excellent additions. But I’d rather cross the Ohio on Route 30 and avoid risking my life and emotional well-being on the 116 year old Newell Toll Bridge!

For the bike, this might well be the last big ride for its stock saddle. One of this year’s major themes has been chafing around the sit bones, and I think I’ve finally figured out that it’s because of how worn my saddle is; understandable, since it’s seen 24,000 road miles plus another 11,000 on the indoor trainer. I thought about swapping it out before this ride, but was stopped by the age-old cardinal rule: never change your equipment just before a big ride! Fortunately, my butt (mostly) survived this saddle’s last hurrah. But there’ll be a whole followup post about my saddle woes shortly.

Sadly, with September halfway gone and the season winding down, there won’t be many other organized events this year. There’s the Western PA Wheelmen’s fall picnic, which includes some short rides, and Tour the Montour. And the Dirty Dozen, which I’m in no shape to tackle, so I’ll probably play photographer again. And I suppose I ought to do another FTP test while I’m still in good form, since I haven’t done one in 10 months…

It was a wonderful day in the saddle, and one more big step to celebrate in the post-Covid return to normalcy.

There are only three contact points between bicycle and rider: hands on bars, feet on pedals, and butt on saddle.

No one ever says anything good about their saddle. For the vast majority, it is the seat of dissatisfaction and pain. Even experienced cyclists, once they find a saddle that works for them, do their utmost to forget all about it.

That strikes me as odd. Much of the information our brain uses to execute the complex operation of riding a bike comes to us through our hands, feet, and rear, but we try really hard to avoid thinking about what those contact points might be telling us.

swoopy road

There are interesting sensual experiences here that we overlook. The transition of weight onto our hands as we brake on a steep descent. The rhythmic juddering of the bike beneath us as we fly across a set of railroad tracks or a wooden bridge.

Many of these sensations come to us through the saddle. The up-and-down of a raised crosswalk speed bump. The change in ride texture from asphalt onto the smoothness of a painted road line, or the roughness of a coastal road that has been too long exposed to the elements.

And then there are those amazing, curvy roads that herald a flowing dance between your body and the bike, as you shift weight smoothly from left to right and left again while the road swoops back and forth. There are roads I could easily identify simply through their saddle feel: the southbound descent off Strawberry Hill, coming down South Street in Carlisle, swoopy Wilsondale in Dover, or the horrible pitted surface of Collins in Truro.

Bicycling is an intensely sensory experience, but we focus nearly all of our attention on the sights and sounds around us or the internal sensations of exertion: respiration, muscle pain, and thirst.

It’s sad that we only think about our contact points with the bicycle as sources of pain to avoid, rather than as a rich source of sensation, information, and experience. Not merely a pain in the ass, they are the physical interface between ourselves and the simple machine that allows us to travel so freely throughout—and in direct contact with—our world.

So on your next ride: instead of “saddle sores”, think “saddle soars”.

Been a strange couple weeks. About the same time I was hit by that SUV, I was also incubating what I think was my first saddle sore.

Now, over the past year, I’ve had a couple bouts of minor seat irritation. Over the holidays I made an effort to do a couple lengthy rides, and my chafing resumed. On the second ride, I covered the affected area with a bandage.

The bandage didn’t seem to help, because a few days later I had a nice, hard, painful saddle sore. I was off the bike (and sitting sideways at work) for a good week before it mostly receded, and I’m hoping that now it’s history. Was a intriguing problem, and something I think I’ll take pains to avoid in the future.

And that week I missed? We had temperatures in the fifties all week. The first day I felt confident I could bike again was the day it dropped from 57 degrees to 11, with a gusting wind. Figures, huh?

lobster gloves

On the other hand (quite literally), those temperatures gave me the first opportunity to try the new lobster gloves I’d bought over the holidays.

For the uninformed, lobster gloves have three chambers: thumb, and then two spaces for two fingers each (see illustration). I’d always been pretty skeptical of them, but I heard some glowing reports and decided to pick some up.

What I discovered was that they really work. I’ve always worn five-fingered gloves before, and in really frigid weather my fingers would freeze up pretty quickly. The lobster mitts really do seem to do a better job keeping your fingers warm, and I think they’re a definite improvement in my winter riding garb. It takes some time to get used to braking and shifting with two fingers at a time as opposed to one or three, but that’ll come with time, and the improved heat retention is well worth a bit of awkwardness and the occasional strange look.

Soon it’ll be time to start training in earnest if I hope to make the Boston Brevet Series 200k and maybe the 300k in May!

Back in 2003, shortly before the PMC, I did the 60-mile version of the Charles River Wheelmen’s “Climb to the Clouds” ride, which goes up 2006-foot Mt. Wachusett and back.

This year’s ride was scheduled for Sunday July 17th, and I was planning on doing the 105-mile version of the same ride. I’d even gotten a friend to agree to drive me out to the start in Concord and pick me up afterward.

The day before—Saturday the 16th—rather than staying off the bike, I decided to do my usual 60-mile Quad Cycles training ride. I had an afternoon barbecue to attend out in Lexington, so it only made sense to ride out that way in the morning and stop at the BBQ on the way home. Of course, I would take it easy, to ensure that I’d have plenty of energy left for the century ride the next day.

As the miles went by, however, I noticed that I was getting more and more uncomfortable in the saddle. In fact, it was getting downright painful! By the time I got to the BBQ, my butt was thoroughly chafed and very tender.

Now, I’ve never been prone to “saddle problems”, although I did have some normal bruising at the start of the season due to my singular lack of padding for my sit-bones. However, this problem was in a completely different area, and it really stung anytime I put weight on it. So I called up my friend and reluctantly canceled the Sunday ride.

That was most of a week ago now, and things seem to have improved. I just got back from Maine, where I bought a couple new pairs of Sugoi cycling shorts, and I plan on putting those shorts (and my backside) through their paces in this weekend’s QC rides. Hopefully everything’ll be in full working order soon, because the PMC ride is only two weeks from now!

Frequent topics