Heading south, out by myself

Last Saturday turned out to be a beautiful and sunny day. However I was nowhere near my bike. I was stuck indoors at my computer working overtime. As we only have one month left until Solvang I was anxious to get out and ride some serious miles. Thus I planned for a long solo ride on Sunday.

For most of the week I kept an eye on the weather reports, and was a bit wary of forcasts for a rainy weekend. Luckily for me the rain came on Friday and Monday, leaving me a perfect window for a cloudy, but dry bike ride on Sunday.

I decided to head south from my apartment to the Palos Verdes area, a ride I had done with the team earlier in Janaury. I packed up some snacks, filled my water bottles, and then set out to see how far I could get. I started out at a pretty leisurely pace. I didn't want to push myself too hard and then run out of steam. To be honest, I was a bit nervous. I didn't have the support system that comes with riding in a group. But at the same time I felt that all of my training left me well prepared to be out there on my own.

I know I'm not going to get any sympathy for complaining about 59 degree weather, but when you're traveling at 15-16 mph that can feel pretty chilly. I wore plenty of layers to make sure that I didn't get too cold.


Traveling the same route that we had done a month earlier, I was pleased to note that most of the hard parts seemed remarkably easier the second time around. Some of the practically insurmountable hills turned out to be a piece of cake. My new bike, my shoes and clips, and my commitment to exercising 6 days a week all seem to be paying off in a big way.

As I rode south along the coast, I recalled how conscious I had been of my new shoes the first time we tackled this ride. I still pay attention to what my feet are doing as I roll up to stop lights, but I'm not nearly as nervous about it as I used to be. (Saying that I probably just jinxed myself for my next ride.)


As I got up into the Palos Verdes area I was less inclined to follow my route slip, and just headed out along a very pretty coastal highway. I found myself next to a lighthouse and seaside trail. There were a lot of families out walking and taking pictures of the dramatic views. It was at that point that I started to feel a little out place. Most weekends when I am out for a ride I am surrounded by my analogous teammates. It is easy to forget how dorky I look in all of my biking gear unless I am surrounded by non bikers. Sure biking shorts are comfortable on long rides, but there's nothing quite like spandex to make you feel self conscious.

I took a few pictures and ate a snack, and then hopped back onto my bike. I ended up turning around at that point because the road that I was on seemed to turn into a freeway on-ramp. I made it perhaps two miles before my back tire began making an ominous "wawump wawump' noise familiar to bikers everywhere as the noise of "I hope you came prepared, or you are about to be stranded." Luckily it has been drilled into me that required biking equipment includes spare tubes, tire levers, and c02 cartridges or a pump. As I was riding alone I also brought my cell phone and a list of emergency numbers. Better safe than sorry, right? It just figures that the day I was riding without back up would be the day I got my first flat.

Now, technically I know how to change a tire, and I was definitely prepared to give it a go. But before I even got a chance to take my back tire off two very kind bikers called out from the road to ask if I needed help, and then coasted to a stop. God bless bikers, they sure are a friendly lot! Between the three of us (though with me mostly observing) we had the thing replaced and re-inflated in under ten minutes. I feel like it was a right of passage. Every biker gets flats at some point, the only thing to do is accept it as a part of your hobby, and ride prepared to deal with it.


The rest of the ride was fairly uneventful, though I did spend five or six miles acutely aware of my back tire. When I got back to the Redondo Beach area the sun began to peak out from behind the clouds. I again deviated from my route slip, figuring that as long as I kept the beach in sight to my left I couldn't really get lost. I enjoyed a mini tour of the neighborhoods tucked along the coast, and I rolled back home with 39.8 miles logged on my cyclometer. While I didn't tackle the same number of miles that my team did, I still felt very accomplished. That's a lot further than I have ever gone on my own. My legs felt weary, my skin was a little wind chapped, and I enjoyed a blissful hot shower and a very relaxing evening.