In article
<[email hidden]>,
Ron Wallenfang said:Since I encountered strong headwinds on my commute in both directions
today, via a most untimely change in wind direction, my mind is very
much on that topic.
I've encountered worse. One November day some years ago, the winds
were gusting into the low 50s when I biked home into a crosswind that
pushed me toward the curb. I didn't hit it but it was tricky. You'd
just get adapted to what you had and along would come a gust (or a
comparative lull), and you'd have to re-adapt quickly.
Another memorable happening was on a windy spring day, also some years
ago, when I came over the crest of a short steep hill that had
protected me from the wind, and a huge gust completely stopped me in
my tracks - the only time that's happened.
My long trips have produced a number of all day vigorous headwinds in
the 20-30 mph range, and those days are remembered as the worst of the
trips in question (though not the worst of any trip - that title's
reserved for cold hours long rains), especially in open country - I
especially recall two different days in KS, one in MT, one in MT into
ND, and one along the shores of Lake Erie SW of Buffalo.
What are your headwind stories? Do headwinds build character? (i.e
are you building character struggling along cussing at the wind?)
Every head has a tail.
here, on the edge of Chicago's western suburban frontier, i go on one or
two day rides every year, specially selected to go into the teeth of
the worst winds of the season.
Lots of grit from the fields blown in the face, heavy buffeting,
basically lots of suck. i spit mud. If i'm pulling more than 5mph after
the first hour, i know it's too easy. I grind into the wind for a six to
eight hours and then ride the tailwind home for what seems like 30
minutes.
i spend a lot of money on gatorade as i grind from country store to
country store.
In that context, it's all about earning my tailwind. I reset my
computer. On the ride back i feel like Lance. It's suddenly dead quiet
except for the energized singing whirr of my wheels and drive train,
which is fully loaded, as i spin hard and fast to hold my 28~34 speed
back the way i came, finally using that Big Chainring - little gear
combination to meaningful effect. Now I'm chasing Speede(ave).
I shoot for 40 mph, but i know i can't get there except for the "hill".
Suddenly i can hear the birds. The debris that had, minutes before
flashed menacingly across my face now floats along side, suspended. ( I
mean that, it just floats by as if suspended on a wire). I hear that
goddmaned harley coming back down the road two miles away. There's a
goat farm over to the left. i like goats.
My skin purges the wind-embedded prairie loam as sweat wells up in great
sheets on my body. Skin temperature rises from 55/60 to 99+. Now i'm
really excreting fluids, but it won't last long. It's me, it's hott.
my vision is impaired i cannot see...
With creeping McMansionism (particularly bad out here) my roads have
slowly been turned into teh svck. Don't know what i'll find this year
but those days might be over.
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