Thursday, June 29, 2006

The Legend of Squaw Peak

It was a normal morning. Clear. Warm. Windy. I was doing a climb I used to hate, but have grown to love: Squaw Peak. As usual, that first corner seemed steeper than I remembered, but past that I had settled into a nice groove and was feeling strong.

About 1/3 of the way up the climb, 4 large crows started cawing at me and circling around overhead. Perhaps this would be seen as an ill omen, but I was in too good of spirits to think much of it.

Further up--say 2/3 of the way--I heard something behind me just as I was rounding the corner. I glanced back over my shoulder and barely caught sight of another cyclist. Instantly, I lost sight of him/her. The only thing I remembered was the light-blue jersey he/she was wearing.

Flashback 30 Years (Or so they say...)
Jimmy was no Italian-born super-star, but what he lacked in heritage, he made up for in determination. There wasn't a hill surrounding Utah Valley that he didn't know--and know better than anyone else. Squaw Peak was a challenging climb back then, also, though made more so by its lack of pavement. The alpine loop wasn't completed yet, though he spent his fair share riding up "Sundance Mountain". He knew every pebble, every turn, every incline.

When the local club set up the Squaw Peak hill climb event, Jimmy was there, lined up with the rest of the local hopefuls--some from as far away as Fruita. The gun went off, and Jimmy quickly moved off the front. There wasn't a soul there that day that could compete with Jimmy.

As years rolled on, and the race became an annual event, no one could ever touch Jimmy. The next closest time in this 4.5 mil climb was 20 seconds back.

Three years after the start of the race came the end of Jimmy's reign--though not in any way that even his competitors wished. Due to heart complications (some say it was a heart attack) he fell over--only a half-mile from the top.

All the racers were in disbelief. No one even rode past as the medical crew tried to revive him. That was the last Squaw Peak hill climb. Those many years have passed and the road is now nicely paved, no one would dare hold another race there. For one, too many people remember all too well the events of that fateful day. For another, others are too superstitious.

You see, ever since then, they say Jimmy still rides the slopes of Squaw Peak. Challenging anyone who attempts it. They say he can be seen wearing a light blue jersey, riding his old Raleigh.

Fast Forward to today
Though I'm getting much better at Squaw Peak, if I encounter people climbing it, they usually pass me. I didn't want that to happen today. Before every turn, I would glance back to see how close this cyclist was. I upped the pace. I was not going to get passed today! I felt too strong, too in-the-zone. Over and over again I glanced back to see if I could spot that cyclist gaining on me. I never did.

Finally, I stood up and sprinted (as fast as I could) the final half-mile of the climb. As I paused to catch my breath, I turned and looked for anyone coming up after me. I was surprised to find no one. Not a soul.

Triumphantly, I thought I must have picked up the pace too much for my follower. Perhaps they even gave up and turned around. As I thought this, however, the wind picked up around me and I swear I heard laughing in it. I shook off the feeling, and the wind passed. I looked forward to waving to him/her on my way down--only I never saw anyone.

Some say Jimmy still rides the slopes of Squaw Peak. They say it was his favorite. They say he is there to prevent anyone else from riding it--a sort of selfish hell that binds him there. For me, I know what he did for me: He pushed me that much harder up the hill. He's still there, all right, but just when he needs to pass on some of this iron will and determination.

Monday, June 26, 2006


It has been a long time since I've been on my mountain bike, the Jekyll. There are many factors that contributed to this lapse. I will name only two:

1) Bad timing of a broken spoke. It broke right as work was getting really really busy, and then winter hit. I got the spoke fixed, but there was too much snow to ride at that time.

2) I got my new Synapse. I rode said Synapse whenever the weather turned nice. The more I rode it, the more I forgot about my beloved Jekyll.

Recently, it started to really get under my skin. I've been craving the trails and the Jekyll. I find myself staring up at the mountains with no idea as to the trail conditions.

Actually over a month ago, when it first started to hit me, I bled my brakes in eager anticipation of returning to the trail, but it didn't go so well. In fact, they ended up worse than when I started. (Note to those that might think of asking me wrenching advice: I'm no good.) I ran out of time, and didn't have more time to return to it until last week.
I finally got the brakes set up, the shocks pumped up, and checked that everything else was working properly.

Then I headed out.

Besides the handlebars were too wide and the seat the wrong shape something else was wrong. I couldn't seem to get the grip I wanted. Mostly, I attributed this to being accustomed to pavement. It hadn't been that long, though. I mean, I remembered much better control off road. I didn't remember bouncing all over. After-all, I've got about 5" of suspension--front and rear.

The problem is that it was starting to mess with my mind. I mean, I've never been an outstanding rider, but I was riding really bad.

Suddenly, it occurred to me, "I pumped up my tires to 30 psi before starting. I NEVER run my tires that high." I think all that high-pressure road riding has altered my sense of right and wrong in tire pressures. I promptly dismounted, let out a TON of air, and got back on my bike.

That was it. No more bouncing. Traction and control were much improved. Everything started coming back. Everything felt just right.

I love mountain biking.

Thursday, June 22, 2006

Playin' the Slots

The only difference between the soda machines at work and slot machines is this: the soda machines don't have a lever to pull.

For instance, both require the deposit of a quarter (which is actually pretty darn cheap for a soda machine). Both can either a) give you nothing in return, b) give you something, but not something you want or c) what you wanted. I figure the only way to come out ahead, same as with the slot machines, is to keep my quarter.

Also, I read somewhere that carbonation does something bad to your ability to exercise well. I realize that statement tells you nothing, but I don't remember much of what I read. It might have been VO2max or something. I'm not sure. The way I see it, though, it is an easy way to help my poor cycling prowess.

That was a long introduction to this bit about caffeine:
Today, in an attempt to get water, a co-worker of mine bought Vault. Vault, in the words of the packaging, "Drinks like a soda, kicks like an energy drink." For starters, I've never had an energy drink that kicked. Since he was offering, I decided to give it a try.

"Drinks like a soda" means "contains carbonated water." I let it sit out and flatten.

Quickly after starting to drink it I realized that, unlike my energy drinks, Vault contains caffeine. I say quickly, because caffeine starts working the instant it enters my mouth for me. I think this is partly due to how little I intake of it. It also lasts forever. Because I want to sleep tonight, I need to make sure I finish this before 3 PM. I'm not kidding. This is always the case unless I am driving across country. In that case, it has no effect on me, except to make me need to use the restroom every 15 minutes.

Incidentally, I can't understand why, while exercising, I'd want to take in caffeine. I mean, going to the bathroom on a ride can be darned inconvenient. And yet, it is an additive in many energy gels.

I avoid these.

I've decided that the label of Vault should read: "Kind of like Mtn. Dew in appearance and strangely similar in flavor (Made by Coca-Cola)."

Tuesday, June 20, 2006


For Fathers Day, I got a RoadID identification wrist band. (Despite my daughter saying so, it ISN'T a bracelet.) I was really excited to get it. I'm not quite sure why, though.

Way back when, I used to leave my wallet in my car when I went mountain biking. (Note to thieves: I no longer do this. Please don't break my windows. You'll only be disappointed.) At some point, I realized that if I died, it would be nice if they could identify me more quickly. I think I have mentioned before that I most often ride by myself.

More recently, I've started carrying only a photo ID (drivers licence) and my insurance card with me. Also, I mostly ride on the road. It is a curious fact that, since I started leaning to the road side of biking--er, cycling--I've realized that "accidents" on a road bike would be more likely to leave me unidentifiable. Ewww.

Okay, let me see if I can make this blog a little more cheery today. Anyway, the plus side of having some important information on a reflective band around my wrist is that I no longer have to cannibalize my wallet before each ride. Did I mention it is reflective. An added bonus.

There seems to be something fundamentally wrong, however with feeling the need to take such precautions while doing my "having-fun" hobby. (Reminds me of a Seinfeld bit.) I suppose wearing a helmet is the same principle--I'm just used to it after years and years of wearing one. Besides, wearing a helmet doesn't ONLY acknowledge that what I'm doing is dangerous, but it also actually PREVENTS injury.

Well, either way, riding a bike is dangerous (mostly because of cars), so now I have something that will prevent me from carrying around miscellaneous cards from my wallet and they'll still be able to identify my carcass and call my wife to let her know.

Monday, June 19, 2006

Expectations and Reality

On Friday, my wonderful wife said: "You'll have to go on a long ride tomorrow. I haven't wrapped any of your Fathers Day presents." I was ecstatic.

Immediately, I began to think of potential rides to go on. I decided I wanted to do miles, not climbs, so I planned out a ride that would head south and west--out to the farming communities near west mountain. My goal was 80 miles, so I figured I'd ride 40, and then turn around. Even in it's remoteness, I knew of at least one park, at the 25 mile mark, with drinking water, so I was certain I'd be fine. (Am I making it too obvious?)

On Saturday, I started getting ready around 11 (by eating and drinking) and was heading out around noon. As I left, I told her I planned on only being gone 4 hours. At that point, my incredible wife said, "I won't expect you before 5, but call if you're going to be late so I don't worry." As far as I was concerned, that could well have been my Fathers Day present.

My perspective of rides has certainly changed this year. 80 miles? That's far, right? With LOTOJA always in the back of my mind while riding, somehow it doesn't seem that far.

That is, until I'm near the end. Then it seems really far. The weird thing is that later that day, I felt fine--except my back.

Side Note: My Back
Because of some saddle situations I notice on long rides, I started shifting things around on this ride. First, I tilted the saddle nose-down. Then, I really felt too close to the bars, so I slid the saddle back a bit.

I left it there.

Until about mile 65.

At that point, I really started to notice that my back was hurting. A lot. Then, I slid my seat forward to the original position, though I tried to maintain the angle. I'm not sure if accomplished this. My back really hurt the rest of the ride due to my weird riding position for the previous half. In fact, when I got home, ONLY my back hurt. The next day, when my legs are often a little stiff after a long ride: fantastic. My back: Well, actually my back started to feel better. You're missing the point, though. The point is that it hurt A LOT for about 20 miles, and 3 hours after the ride.

Where was I? Oh yeah:

This morning, I got the special treat to ride because my wife wasn't getting up in the morning to exercise (her friend bailed on her). (I normally take Tues., Thurs, Sat.) I decided to do Squaw Peak. This isn't a long ride, but the climb itself is steep. It isn't a long climb, in fact, but it is quite steep. Normally, I cry out in pain the whole way, and curse those that paved the road for the last 1/4 mile (which is even steeper).

Today, however, I felt fantastic.

Honestly, I did. My pace was faster than normal, and I kept my heart-rate down. Normally, I can't pause breathing long enough to swallow water, but this morning, I managed to finish off the rest of my bottle on the climb.

The last 1/4 mile, the bad part, wasn't bad. I just stood up and powered up it. I really felt awesome. In fact, by the time I got home, I really felt like I ought to keep going. I probably would have done a lot better on Saturday if I had eaten more than a couple energy bars and a bottle of Cytomax. Or, if I hadn't run completely out of water at about mile 50.

Thursday, June 15, 2006

Moose Encounters

On my ride this morning, I ran the following creatures off the road: Pigeons, Deer, and a Moose. Here are some things I regret about my ride: I wasn't carrying a nice camera. Also, I wasn't very quick to get what camera I had (the cheapo one on my cell phone) out of my pocket. As a consequence, the picture of this moose is pretty bad.

I love that about early-morning rides. Previously, however, I thought these kind of encounters were limited to mountain biking. I'm glad they're not.

While I was stopped shooting pictures, a few cyclists rode past. I decided to see if I could hang with them a bit. After a mile or so, I realized that they were actually going slower than my previous pace. As I sped past them, I looked over and saw a couple of old men.


Where's the glory in that? Also, why did they look like young, super-fit cyclists to me before I blew by?

Wednesday, June 14, 2006

A Change of Pace

When I was a kid, I lived on my bike. After all, it was my only source of transportation. It spelled freedom from my parents. We rode everywhere. Being close enough in age, James and I almost always shared the same friends. Also, our closest friends shared our love of bikes.

I remember countless trips around town: down to the gas station for a soda, across town to a friends house, or over to the bike store. We never rode very fast--after all, what was the point? We were there to be out on our bikes. I remember once trying to ride all the way across town without touching the handlebars except to shift or stop. I remember my futile attempts at trials around the local high school.

In those days, I was more comfortable on my bike than almost anywhere else. At the time, I owned a pair of cheap cycling shorts, a helmet and a pair of cotton crochet gloves. No cycling shoes--toe clips and running shoes back then. No jerseys--a cotton t-shirt was just fine. Somehow, all those cycling bits and pieces I have so much of today, didn't really matter. I was comfortable on my bike, because I lived on it.

I remember the camaraderie. Riding past a friend, and grabbing their brake so they'd have to slow down. This was especially successful if that friend was riding with a 44-oz soda.

Last Saturday, for a brief moment while riding with the neighborhood boys on their cheap bikes--making fun of me in my lycra, of course--it all came back to me. I don't begrudge the type of riding I do now. I love long rides. I love fast paces. For that hour or so on Saturday, though, none of that mattered. It was just a few guys riding along and talking--having fun.

I love the contrast in cycling. Being on a bike is so much fun--whether I'm hammering down a lonely country road, clearing an obstacle on a difficult trail, or just hanging out with friends on bikes.

Tuesday, June 13, 2006

That Really Hurt

Friday night ended with a downpour right after I finished the fence. Although concerned about the rain continuing through the next day, I knew I'd be free. That was enough.

Saturday dawned clear and bright. It promised to be a warm day--which was something I wanted. I normally ride in the cool of the morning, so I want to get more acclimated to warm/hot temperatures.

Just as I was getting dressed, there was a knock on the door. Two boys from the neighborhood showed up to invite me on a ride. As I was walking out the door, I told my wife, "After a short ride with them, I'm going to take off on my own for a few more hours."

The guys had some hill climbing in mind. That's fine, I though, I love climbing hills. The hill they picked was very steep, but also very short (less than 1 mile), so I settled into a good pace and started up.

"The Old Man and The Hill" or "Old Shifters Die Hard"
Then Chuck (names have been changed) had a problem: his rear shifter blew up. I should point out that the bikes these guys are riding are literally thrift store bikes--probably late '70s. In this case, it was a clamp-on downtube shifter that was the culprit. After trying in vain to fix it. He says, "I'll just try and push this tall gear going up it as far as I can." (Remember, if the shifter isn't there to hold the derailleur in place, it defaults to the smallest cog/hardest gear. Luckily, he was in the smallest chainring on a double.)

To his credit, he would have made it, too, if his rear wheel hadn't kept slipping due to the torque he was laying down. He stopped a couple of times to get out his wrench and tighten the bolts holding the rear wheel on.

From there, we proceeded on to the BYU creamery. There, these young men feasted on ice cream. "No thanks," I said, "I don't want all that cream churning inside my on this hot day."

Of course, after that, they hammered up this longer, but less steep, hill. I say hammered, but somehow they were just riding and I was hammering to keep up with them.

Is this just age? Is that what makes it so hard for me sometimes? I often wonder what shape I'd be in if I'd started seriously riding back then. (I've been riding that long, but never very serious about getting better.)

"The Real Ride" or "A Hard Lesson to Learn"
With a few parting words I broke off from the group and headed out to do a "real ride". I was feeling fantastic. I had a loose plan of riding the Alpine Loop, but I really wanted to do more than that.

When I started up Provo Canyon, I was going at a pretty good pace--this was partly to try and up the relatively slow average I had while riding with the boys. (Overall, we went really slow. It was just that hill where they lost me.) Another biker passed me, so I decided to keep up with him. I just stepped it up a notch and managed to hang with him without much difficulty. After a few miles of this, I figured I'd better slow it down a little, because I wanted to do the Alpine loop, and maybe something else. I was relieved to see him turn around at the next park. No wonder he was going so fast.

I was still planning on doing something in addition to the Alpine Loop when I turned up Alpine Loop Rd. As has been stated, this is the steepest part of the climb. I flew up it.

Well, for me anyway. I kept a reasonable pace and stayed in my saddle about 95% of the time. After I passed Sundance, I started to get just a little bit chilly.

Uh oh. I guess morning water intake is much to little for a warm afternoon ride. I wasn't too concerned, though, and I started drinking more water.

The closer I got to the summit, however, the more I realized I was losing my energy fast.

"I remember this part being easier."

Once at the top, I pounded the rest of an energy bar and pointed my bike down the American Fork side of the mountain. There's nothing like a nice long downhill to help you feel you've recovered. Unless of course, it is a stiff tailwind on a flat road. Coincidentally, this is what I had once I got to the bottom. I was feeling fantastic. I was cruising on said flat road at around 30 mph for about 15-20 minutes.

"See, I managed to pull myself out of that bonk. That's more like it."

Then I turned a corner. I wasn't actually facing into the wind, but I was no longer with it. From that point on, I wanted to stop. I was still about 10 miles from home.

At about 4 miles from home, I thought about stopping a lot. I mean, I really wanted to stop. My legs were so tired I felt like if I stopped spinning, they'd lock up and I wouldn't be able to move them. I kept eyeing small patches of shaded grass off the side of the road with sincere longing.

At about 2 miles from home, I didn't think there was any chance of finishing. Most of my thoughts were spent trying to think of a good excuse to call my wife. This was mixed with the occasional thought of: "I wonder if I'll ever want to ride again." And, "I hate this."

This, to those who have never experienced it, is a bonk. A full-blown bonk. It took me about 30 minutes after I got back before I even wanted to drink--though I knew it was important. About two hours after that I finally sat down and ate dinner. I just couldn't bring myself to do it.

"What Did I Do Wrong?" or "I'm Glad to Be Alive!"
Well, for starters, I forgot sunscreen. Again. I think getting sunburnt makes things worse for me. For another, I really didn't drink enough near the beginning. I've been used to cool rides, so I wasn't worried or prepared for it.

Also, partway into my bonk, er ride, that ice cream sure sounded nice.

On Sunday, I was talking with James on the phone, wondering if I'd ever want to get on my bike again. His reply: "Yes. Tomorrow."

He was right. And I even want to do that ride again. Soon.

This morning's ride was a face-paced solo effort. Mostly flat with a short steep climb right at the end. I kept up a really fast average for the first half and fizzled a little at the end. It was good, because I need to learn how long and how hard I can push myself.

No bonk, though.

Friday, June 09, 2006

To Fence

Cycling isn't my life. I mean, most of the time I want it to be my life, but I'm resigned to the fact that it isn't. I hope that doesn't shatter your perception of me.

My time on my bike is limited. Limited and precious. For that reason, I spend a significant ammount of time thinking of my rides, planning for my rides, and juggling other events for my rides. Sometimes, however, I know that I need to sacrifice for my rides.

Obviously, I sacrifice my rides to spend more time with my wife and children. After all, why else would I ride at the crack of dawn. It is a sacrifice well made. This is especially apparent when my wife says things--as she has--like, "I think you should buy that bike."

At other times, I give up time on my bike for more time on my bike. Take my fence, for instance. I am putting in a new fence. I wanted to finish it last weekend. I didn't get on my bike once last Saturday--normally my long day--so I could finish the fence and thus free up my future time to ride more. Unfortunately, I didn't finish. In fact, as of this morning, I'm still not finished.

Please notice that I said "this morning." [Waiting for the point to dawn on you.]

Yes, last night, I was looking forward to another ride. Really looking forward to it. Only one thing was bothering me. I was worried that, with the fence still not done, it might consume yet another Saturday. I decided, therefore, that I'd sacrifice Thursday morning, for Saturday afternoon.

Only, I didn't finish this morning either. My new plan is to sacrifice Thursday and Friday nights for Saturday afternoon.

In the end, I'm gambling with my time. I'm afraid that, not only will I not finish the fence in time, but I will have given up week-day rides without the benefit of a long week-end ride to compensate.

Wednesday, June 07, 2006

A Stretch

Since I began really putting in the miles (for me anyway) on my bike, I've started to notice some things. For one, the more I ride, the more I love it. Also, the more I ride, the more my brain depends on that time in the saddle to behave normally. The other thing I have noticed is how much I needed to add to my off-bike routine in order to help my riding.

Something I have never done (even in my running days) is stretch. People have always told me to stretch, but I've managed alright without it. The more I ride, and the more I push my muscles, the more sore I get. I've actually found real benefit to stretching. It is especially important when I ride before work. On those days, I have high intensity in the morning, and then I sit still in front of my computer for the next 8 or 9 hours. This kills my legs. If, however, I take a few minutes to stretch during the day, I feel much better. I have much less soreness.

I've also found that eating is a big deal. I most often ride at the crack of dawn. Because of this, and my desire for more sleep, for years I would never eat any food before a ride. In fact, even if I rode in the afternoon, I'd try and avoid food altogether for hours before the ride.

I now make sure I take in a bunch of carbs right when I first get up in the morning--generally 30 minutes before I'm on the bike. At the same time, I try and take in some water to prepare me for all the sweating I'm about to do. I've found this helps me so I don't need to bring as much water, and so I have more energy.

The other time I try and tank up on food is right after a ride. I drink lots--usually chocolate milk--and eat high-carb foods. As I'm trying to loose weight as well, lately, I've been trying to cut out some of the fat, without avoiding the carbs.

During the ride, I've increased my intake as well. Not for short rides, mind you, but for longer rides I make sure and bring some form of energy gel (usually homemade, so I don't break the bank). On rides much longer than 2 hours, I try and have a bottle of energy drink (I like Cytomax, and Performance/Nashbar usually has it on the cheap) and an energy bar (currently, Balance Bars are my favorite). It is amazing how that can keep me going on a long ride--even when I start out tired and sore.

Overall, by stretching and eating-for-cycing, I've found I can ride more, and recover much faster. I also figured that I'd better learn to eat and ride at the same time for my longer rides like centuries and LOTOJA.

New Review: Tarptent

I forgot to mention that I finished up another review and have posted it to So, here's my obligatory link.

Monday, June 05, 2006

One is the loneliest number...

Sometimes, through the burden of my high standing as a blogger with more than 3 readers, I am required, for the betterment of society, to talk about subjects that aren't pleasant. I have received numerous emails requesting more information on this subject (read: zero, as usual), so I feel the time has come to address it. Here is an excerpt from one such email:

Jon, please help me understand something here.
You shave your head. You shave your face. You don't have your legs, but I'm sure
that will change once you decide to suck it up like the rest of us and stop
acting like a newbie. Gosh! Okay, sorry. Anyway, what's with the huge bushy
eyebrows (or, perhaps, eyebrow would be more appropriate)?!

Also, are you Sasquatch?

Shorn in Shenandoah

Well, Shorn, that's a very good question. Two, actually. No, I'm not Sasquatch, or big foot. My shoe size is about 9.5 US. Though, yes, I am remarkably hairy, I'm not as hairy as all that.

As for the brow, you are not alone in questioning my reasons for holding on to it. Let me paint a picture for you.

It is a hot day outside, and you're riding your bike. There is not even a whisper of a breeze, and you have been consuming water in large quantities to make up for it. You start to climb a steep hill. This hill is familiar to you, but nonetheless very hard. As you look up at the slope looming above you, sweat trickles down your forehead and into your eyes.

The burn! The stinging! The blurred vision! As if this climb on this hot day wasn't enough!

That scenario, alas, isn't of me. Though I often ride in heat, and even more often up hills, and even though I sweat more than most people I know, I don't get sweat in my eyes.

"How is this possible?" you gasp in horror. "Are you wearing one of those funky plastic rain-gutter sweatbands?" No, I have thick bushy eyebrows. You see, though hair may encumber me in many instances, my trusty eyebrows safely channel sweat away from my eyes and down the sides of my face.


Thursday, June 01, 2006

It's Alive!

Rides have a mind all their own. This statement might sound a bit weird to those who don't ride, but trust me when I say that it isn't me controlling the ride. The Ride can do that all by itself without my help. Many times, I'll start the ride with a particular goal or route in mind. Sometimes, the Ride agrees with me and everything is uneventful. Often, I never know where it'll take me next.

The Ride is Good
The good news about the Ride, is that it knows this world better than I do. I can often become easily lost. Those that know me best know that I actually have think about it before telling right from left.

The Ride, though, takes me down roads I've never seen, and through parts of town I've never been to. It takes me there, shows me spectacular views, teaches me pain up steep climbs, and then brings me back again. The Ride is the protagonist--always fighting against my early-morning self. It teaches me to love biking even more each time I'm out.

The Ride knows what I need, even when I don't
Today, the Ride took me up hills. Lots and lots of hills. I know it was the ride guiding me, because when I left I said, "I want to get in as many miles as possible today. I don't really want to do hills because I did so many last week." One corner after another led me to unfamiliar territory, and up many hills. The Ride kept pushing me, too. I would think my hill work was done for the ride, but the Ride would throw another one into the mix.

Rarely, I can fool the Ride
While climbing up a particularly steep hill near my house, I took the opportunity to end the ride. I feigned right, then darted to the left. The Ride, I think, must have been planning out the next hill when I did so. By the time it realized where I went, the Ride gave up on me and I limped down my street to my house.

On a particularly steep and windy descent (one over which I'd never ridden), I got going too fast for a turn. I think I panicked when I grabbed the brakes and my rear wheel lost traction and skidded about 10" before I let go and got the bike under control. I'm glad the front wheel stayed solid. That could've been nasty.

I hope to put in a longer ride on Saturday, but I have to work and put in a new fence--which, coincidentally, is also work.