Category: Bike Adventures

I love riding my bike because there’s never a dull moment when you see the world from two wheels.

Hurts So Good

On By Alicia McCauleyIn Bike Adventures6 Comments

While the rest of the country is waist deep in snow, Northern California is doling out a premature dose of Spring.  And what’s a girl to do with all this sunshine and temperatures dawdling in the 70’s?  You know what I’m going to say next, right?  I can barely even stand it.  I’m itching with giddiness as I type my answer.

RIDE MY BIKE!  RIDE MY BIKE!  RIDE MY BIKE!  RIDE MY BIKE!

I haven’t been out on The Rocket nearly enough the past few weeks and so when That Laura suggested we go for a bike ride while everyone else watched football, I was all over it.  There is a new piece of the river trail that leads up to Shasta Dam and I’ve been salivating over it.

I pulled on a short sleeve jersey, arm warmers, and snapped on some Spandex.  I peeled my toe warmers off my shoes and didn’t even give my tights or full fingered gloves a second glance.  There just aren’t words for what a delight it was to wear my warm weather cycling gear in February.  It was a fantastic!

Keswick Reservoir

We rode past the Sundial Bridge and along the Sacramento River, giggling and burbling next to us.  Families were out en masse walking their dogs, skateboarding, and teaching itty bitty ones to ride their bikes.

Laura and I rode past Keswick Dam and climbed right next to Keswick Reservoir.  It’s a decent climb and my legs felt every pedal stroke.  In fact, my legs started aching at mile 15 and didn’t stop until I pulled in my driveway at mile 36.

But my heart, oh my heart, was strong and my mind was set.  I would not cut my ride short and I would not, absolutely would not, get off and walk.

As I rode, I couldn’t get over the glorious day that fell in my lap.  (Yes, I know this post is full of superlatives.  Frankly, it’s all I can do to keep from writing the entire post in CAPS LOCK.)  Every turn of the trail had something new and beautiful to distract me from my miserable legs.

The piercing white Sundial Bridge against the blue sky.  The hum of Keswick Dam.  The trees mirrored in the water.  The blushing manzanita bushes.  The backside of Shasta Dam towering above us.  I breathed it all in.

As the sun dropped closer to the mountains, we turned back home.  In the shower, I scrubbed the salt marks from my face and massaged my thighs.  They were quivering and already threatening to tighten up.  The hot water pounded my muscles, drummed on my aching knees.  And as I stood there leaning up against the shower wall, I smiled.

Because sometimes being a cyclist hurts so good.

Bike Love

On By Alicia McCauleyIn Bike Adventures8 Comments

February is a special month for me because not too many Februaries ago, my own little heart got a big fix.  And that big fix allows me to celebrate love in its purest form.  The purest form of love being bike love, of course.

This February I’m sending you a big bouquet of Valentine wishes.

I hope you find love in unexpected places.  I think you’ll be surprised where you find it if you take a moment to look.

Image from bikerumor.com

I hope you find a warm embrace in the arms of a loved one.  And that you take the time to hug them just a second or two longer than usual.

Image from fineartamerica.com

I hope you’ll be bold enough to let down your guard, to wear your heart on your sleeve.

I hope you write and receive many, many love notes.

Image from candycranks.com

And that each day you find something new to love.

Image from sp.life123.com

I hope you find comfort in love that has been around the block once or twice, love that has lasted, love that has lost a little of its sheen, love that has lost all the sharp edges, love that’s your soft place to fall.

Image from http://www.bargo.info

Whether you spend this Valentine’s Day with a few thousand of your closest friends

Image from http://www.bargo.info

Or in your own good company

Image from bikeblogs.org

Know this, I’m thankful you’re a part of my life.  I think this necklace best expresses my feelings for you.

Image from newyork.inetgiant.com

Happy February!  Now, go out and show your bike some love.

The Red Boat

On By Alicia McCauleyIn Bike Adventures7 Comments

Saturday afternoon I pulled on my tights and arm warmers and all sorts of other layers that would keep me warm on such a frigid day.  As I got dressed, my nerves bounced around like rubber bands being fired in my stomach, plinking off the insides of my ribcage.

It was the day of my first bike ride of the year.

I love riding The Rocket, but there is just something about the first ride of the year that makes me all a jitter.  Maybe it’s that a new cycling season is so ripe with possibility.  Or maybe it’s the fact that I haven’t ridden outside in a couple of months and I’m afraid I’ve forgotten how to clip in and out of my pedals and I’m convinced I’m going to crash.  At least once.  Yeah, that’s probably it.

The night before, I pumped up my tires and took a minute to get re-acquainted with The Rocket.  I checked her brakes, shifted and listened for any new squeaks.  After a couple of neglected months, she had good reason to whine, but no, she is a bike who holds her tongue, a lady who thinks before she speaks.

I gave her the once over, eyeing the little chips and scratches on her frame, each one a battle scar, proof that we have been places, that we’ve seen the world together.  I ran my hands over her, making sure all her parts were in working order.  She was in prime condition.

Saturday was frigid.  I think at one point the temperature got up to a balmy 39 degrees.  My friend, Laura, and I cruised down to the river trail.  We chatted and pedaled, our breath puffing around us as we rode on the mostly empty trail.  There are a ton of newly paved sections and I was excited to try out a nice, steady climb.

We turned onto the new part of the trail and a creek to our left burbled down toward the river as we pushed up the hill.  We were quiet, only a word or two popping between us.  I’d like to say our conversation lulled because we wanted to enjoy the sounds of nature, but the truth of the matter is after a couple of months off the bike, I had to choose between talking and breathing.

One of the best parts of cycling is that I never know what I’m going to see, every ride is a surprise.  And as we turned a corner, there it was.

A beautiful, old, red boat.

You might not think it’s beautiful, but on a day when the sky was a gunmetal swath above the gray river, and the air was wrapped in fog, the red boat was a stunning punch of color in an otherwise subdued landscape.  I yanked off my gloves and willed my frozen fingers to work the camera.

A boat, a beautiful, red boat.  In the prime of its life, it could have held 30 men, maybe carried them down the creek into the river.  And here it was landlocked on the side of the trail.  I wish I knew the story of the boat, but there wasn’t anything or anyone around to offer an explanation.  I slipped my gloves back on and tucked my camera in my jersey pocket.  I thought about that boat for the rest of the ride, inventing a history for it, keeping my mind busy while my legs turned the cranks.

The temperature dropped and a drizzle covered my glasses in a sheet of mist.  We hurried back to our cars, willing our legs to spin faster as our fingers and toes ached with cold.

Back at home, I stood in the shower, letting the scalding hot water needle my skin.  I piled on layers of clothes and slurped hot tomato soup under a blanket, but no matter what I did, I couldn’t shake the cold from my bones, couldn’t keep the goosebumps at bay.

I like to think the goosebumps on my skin that day weren’t a result of winter’s icy grip.  No, I think they were the result of standing tiptoe on the edge of a new cycling season, holding my breath knowing adventures full of unexpected beauty are just around the corner.

Hanging Out With Lance Armstrong

On By Alicia McCauleyIn Bike Adventures2 Comments

I had a dream that Lance Armstrong stood at my kitchen counter eating a bowl of cereal with Terry and my brother, Pete.  I never bothered to ask what Lance was doing there.  Matter of fact I never bothered to ask what Pete, who recently moved to Las Vegas, was doing there either.  Just chalk it up to dream magic, okay?

Pete was talking to Lance about something or other.  My brother can talk to anyone about anything.  I, on the other hand, was a bundle of nerves to meet Lance Armstrong.  Darn, even in my dreams I can’t play it cool.

Terry left on a bike ride with a friend.  Pete went into the guest room to change into cycling clothes, leaving me alone to make small talk with Lance.  I was already suited up in a Fat Cyclist jersey and bike shorts.  The bike shorts were black with orange and pink plaid running down the sides.  I don’t own a pair of bike shorts like that in real life, but if I did I would totally wear them, like all of the time.  Even when not on a bike because they were that awesome.  But back to small talk with Lance.

“Sexy.” said Lance, his voice laden with sarcasm.

“Spandex are always sexy.”  I replied.  This axiom is always true, even in dreams.

“Uh, your jersey is on inside out.” Lance pointed.  See previous reference to my inability to be cool even in my dreams.

I quickly pulled my jersey off and yanked it back on the right way, which I would never do in front of anyone in real life, let alone Lance Armstrong.  The flesh on my stomach hasn’t seen the light of day in years and is blindingly white.  Not to mention the fact that it’s a bit squidgy.  Apparently my dream self has no shame.

“So where are you riding today?”  Lance asked, kindly ignoring my stomach.

“Up to Shasta Dam.  Where are you riding today?”

“To Mt. Shasta and back.  Is that close to Shasta Dam?”

“Not at all.”

“Too bad.”

“But you’ll have a great view of Lake Shasta as you ride.  Although I think it’s snowing in Mt. Shasta.  You should eat something warm at Mike and Tony’s before you turn back around to Redding.  Are you allowed to eat regular food or are you on a specialized diet right now?”

“I can eat regular food sometimes.”  I gave Lance a sympathy pat on the back because that is a sad, sad statement.

Then Pete and I left Lance in the kitchen and rode up to the Dam and back.  It was a great ride and afterward, I popped into school to do a couple of things in the office.  And that’s when I got the call from Lance that he needed a rescue pick up.  I don’t know how he tracked me down at school.  Dream magic strikes again.

“My sprocket snapped and I was wondering if you could pick me up?”  Lance asked.

“Sure.  Where are you?”

“Let’s see, I’m about 60 miles in.”

“Okay.  I’ll be there in a little while.”

“Are you sure?  It’s a long way to drive.”

“It’s no problem.  I didn’t have anything else going on today.”  Seriously, I have got to teach my dream self how to sound a little less pathetic.  “Hole up somewhere warm and I’ll be there in about an hour.”

I zipped home and threw my bike rack on the back of my car.  Just as I was getting ready to leave, Terry’s friend rode up and told me that Terry also needed a rescue pick up.

I had to choose between my husband and my new best friend, Lance Armstrong.

Who would I rescue first?

And then my dream self did me proud.

“Okay, I’ll swing by and get Terry and then I’ll get Lance.”  I assured Terry’s friend.  As I was dialing Terry to get his exact location, Lance showed up at my house.  Even in my dream I was baffled by how he got there and how he got there so quickly.  The dream magic was starting to wear thin.

“I hitched a ride back to Redding.”  Lance said, hopping in the car.  “But I had to leave my bike hidden in a bush.  Would you mind driving me to pick it up?”

“No problem.  We just have to swing by and grab Terry first.”

“I really need to get my bike fixed before tomorrow, but the bike shops will probably be closed by the time we get back.”

“Don’t worry, Lance. I’ll call the mechanic at the bike shop.  I’m sure he’ll open up.”

“You mean he’ll open up for me?”

“No, I mean he’ll open up for me.”  Finally, my dream self found a smidge of cool.

I woke up with a big smile on my face.  I so wished my dream was real.

Yes, hanging with Lance Armstrong would be awesome, but that’s actually not the part I of my dream I wished would come true.

As my dream faded away and I listened to the rain patter on the roof, I wished that my brother hadn’t moved to Las Vegas.

I wish that he still lived here so we could ride our bikes together up to Shasta Dam.

Pete and I riding for Team Fatty & LiveStrong

In Which I Am Famous

On By Alicia McCauleyIn Bike Adventures2 Comments

Today my friend, That Laura, sent me the following text:

“Hey, did you know you are on the back of ‘Biking the Best’?  How cool are you?”

Biking the Best is a booklet of maps of twenty-four of the best road rides in and around Shasta County.  I did not know I was on the back cover and I have to say it went to my head a little bit.  This was my reply.

“Send me a photo of it.  Wait, am I upright?”

Unfortunately, that is a valid question on my part.

“Yes, you’re upright.  It’s a picture of a bunch of people at a rest stop.”

Laura sent the photo to my phone but I couldn’t quite make it out.

“Oh good.  I was afraid it was when I fell over or something.  How do I get my own copy so I can brag about being big and famous?  And do you want me to autograph yours?”

Laura called a minute later and asked if I wanted to meet her at the bike shop because she was going to buy a copy.  Of course I wanted to buy my Very Own Copy.  I think she was actually buying it for the routes.  I, on the other hand, felt compelled to buy it because I was obviously the star of the book.  And bike routes are nice, too.  That way when I get lost because I didn’t look at the map in the first place I can still find my way back home.

So I puffed up my chest and strode into the bike shop.  Funny thing is, nobody in the shop stopped and asked for my autograph.  They didn’t even recognize me.  Didn’t they know the back cover model of “Biking the Best” was in their presence?

I swaggered over to the counter and picked up a copy.  I didn’t bother to flip through the routes.  Instead I turned right to the back cover.  And sure enough there were a bunch of my cycling friends.

“Are you sure I’m in this picture?  I don’t see myself.”  I said to Laura.

“Yep, you’re right there in your Fat Cyclist jersey.  See?”  She pointed.

I squinted.  A lot.  And sure enough there I was.  Looking like an idiot.  True, I am upright in the photo, but that’s the best thing I can say about it.  I apologize for the grainy quality of the photo.  It’s a photo of a photo, but you’ll get the gist.

Do you see me?  No?

I’m the one on the right.

Further right.

Yeah.  That one.

I have no idea what I was reaching for back there.  My only guess is that I had a sock stuck in my jersey or something.

Still, I’m happy to autograph your copy of the booklet.  In fact, you probably won’t mind if I sign in big, black permanent marker, right?  And I have a long name so you might not even be able to see my photo underneath the autograph.  And wouldn’t that be a shame.