Dear Joe Biker,
Your ass is colossal.
Love,
Fizik Arione
Is it a sign that I actually “got some back?” That’s a photo of the underside of my Fizik Arione wing flex Ti railed saddle. It’s cracked, humorously perpendicular to where my crack would be. I didn’t crash, nor did Jackie Chan karate chop it. Even though I haven’t been a fan of the Arione, I did not beat it with a baseball bat so I could rationalize another new bike part to my wife. I was “just riding along” and broke it with my own enormous arse.
However, if there were a warranty left on this 3 to 4 year old saddle, I’m pretty sure it would not cover slamming my massive booty into it while bunny-hopping a double set of railroad tracks at probably 30mph. It was a nasty set of tracks at the bottom of the hill somewhere northeast of Cincinnati, out in the rollers between Loveland and I’m guessing Goshen. You know the type of tracks, ones where the asphalt is all topsy-turvy, the wood is rotten between the tracks and the uneven surface jiggles your arms like a handshake with a WWE wrassler no matter which line you pick to ride across. So, I opted for flying. I figure, the name Arione must have something to do with being airborne. In fact, Fizik does brand the saddle as having “wing flex” technology. For the record, I cleared ‘em…on a carbon Jamis Xenith road bike. Upon reflection, I’m glad I left the beefy winter Thompson seat post in, or I might still be picking shards of carbon out of my taint and hamstrings.
I kind of heard a whump when my immense caboose made contact, but the saddle held up. Remarkably, I got three more rides in before the crack I inflicted finally worked its way completely through the shell. Note to self: “wing flex” and “Arione” have nothing to do with flying. Road bikes are meant to stay in contact with the road. While I thought about keeping it as a trophy of my particularly spectacular bunny-hop, I tossed it ceremoniously in the shop trash bin. I replaced it with a swanky new orange Fizik Aliante that’s all matchy-matchy. Butt bling.
Blogger note: this is the 100th post of The Best Bike Blog Ever*. Thanks for reading.
Lying in a frozen creek with a broken hip on an 8 degree Sunday morning is not how I plan to leave this world. After snapping a few pictures with the sun glinting off the snow covered trees, I turned around when I realized the rushing melt water was flowing over a layer of ice in the normally easily crossable creek at East Fork. I remembered when I used to try to ride across hockey rinks in Madison, Wisconsin. That was 13 years ago, before I read “Between a Rock and a Hardplace.” I did have a cell phone, but between riding solo and figuring a cell phone could easily get swept away from my jacket pocket during a fall, I saw no reason to risk an Aron Ralston by attempting the fjord to the technical trail.
At first I was bummed that others didn’t show. On Friday there was some chest thumping on the Ohio MTB forum about weekend snow riding possibilities. The way I figured it, at least I wouldn’t have to wheeze like a donkey trying to keep up with the guys on the front this time. Besides, one of my buddies only has a cross bike. Seeing that I could barely get through in granny gear, a bike with only a 42t chainring would have some issues. 2-3 inches of grainy powder covered about an inch to inch and a half of frozen slush in most places on the trail. Riding with Notyounano, my Ipod, was fine with me. As I shuffled down the trail, it shuffled through a mix of Foo Fighters, Rage Against the Machine, Metallica and the errant Katy Perry and Ting Tings song.
Riding solo, you get washed in your thoughts, almost like a running conversation with yourself. I thought about how 8 degrees really feels no colder than 15-18. However, it wasn’t until I got back and saw the temperature in my car read 22, I realized it had likely warmed from 8 to 16 degrees as the sun touched the snow painted trees. Countless winter spin classes had a good impact on my pedal stroke. I turned perfect granny gear circles to keep my tire from spinning out on the frozen slush under the snow. I looked around for good photo ops. I looked at the time and laughed. The easier trail loops I could normally ride in 15-20 minutes in the big ring, were now taking 30-40 using the small ring in four inches of fresh snow. There’s certainly something to be said for the slow ride and first tracks.
