The Feel of the Road

I never gave much thought to the feel of pavement until I started cycling in Ireland last spring. Then I noticed the difference straight away: The tarmac, as they call it in the British Isles, felt distinctly softer than the asphalt in my part of the US. Having lived for years in the UK before I was a cyclist, I'd somehow never noticed this. But on a bike it was difficult not to. I could feel a give in the road's surface under my tires. It was also more porous, gravely in texture. Feeling more resistance than I'd come to expect from pavement, I kept wondering whether my tires had gone flat, or whether something was mechanically amiss with the folding bike I was riding. Later I learned that the roads in Ireland are a kind of chipseal. The differences I sensed were real. 

Being back this summer, and with a skinny-tire roadbike this time, the characteristics of the Irish roads feel even more pronounced. The softness and the rough texture make me exert more effort to achieve the same speed as in the US. I would place the experience as somewhere between riding on pavement and riding on tightly packed gravel. 

When the tarmac is freshly laid or repaired, the top layer can be quite loose. It also loosens easily after stretches of bad weather. Cornering on such sections without realising what you're dealing with can be dangerous. 

There are other interesting effects. Once I did a long distance ride in a 75°F "heatwave." On the return leg around 4pm, I noticed that the road in front of me was glistening, getting shinier and more liquid-looking by the minute - almost as if it were melting. I thought to myself "Nah, can't be. I must be tired and imagining things." Next things I know, viscous clumps of tar were sticking to my tires and clogging my brakes. I had to pull over and scrape the gooey black chunks off, then use a stick to knock the hardened clumps out of the brake calipers. Then I sat in the shade and waited for an hour, until the road cooled off enough to continue home. To my relief, the following day everyone was talking about the melting tarmac, so at least I did not hallucinate the surreal experience. I guess the tarmac here is not rated to withstand such boiling temperatures!

If you're riding a harsh-feeling bike on Irish roads, you'll know it. The rough texture exaggerates the jarring sensations of road buzz. When I tried a friend's racing bike, my hands were vibrating so much I could not believe it. "Oh it's like riding on razor blades, to be sure," he laughed. I stroked my own bike with renewed appreciation. 

Once I do get used to the roads here, the roads in the US feel unnaturally hard and smooth in comparison, and readjusting to them takes some time as well. As for the New England potholes... well, that is a topic that deserves its own post, possibly in poem form.

High Heels and Saddle Height

A belated Monday Mailbox post, on account of my wifi having conked out yesterday. Here is a variation of a question I've gotten from several readers this summer:

...I'd like to wear high heeled shoes on my bike, but find it's hard to get the saddle height right. If I adjust the saddle for my heels it is too high when I wear flats, and vice versa. What do you recommend?

The problem here is not so much with the high heels themselves as it is with platform soles. Over the past year platform and wedge style shoes with substantial stack heights have become popular again. And alternating between shoes that are flat, and shoes with a 3cm rise in the sole will make a noticeable difference in leg extension on the bike.

For short distances, this might not matter so much. Some women will adjust their saddle height for flats and then simply ride with it too low when wearing heels and platforms. Others (myself included) find this uncomfortable even for short stretches. And of course for longer distances riding with your saddle too low is simply a bad idea - not only uncomfortable, but bad for the knees.

Aside from the obvious but unhelpful suggestion of picking a heel height and sticking with it, one thing to consider is converting your seatpost to quick release. This should be easy to do on most bikes: You simply purchase a quick release skewer, and install that in place of the seat clamp bolt. I now have QR seatposts on my everyday city bike and on my cargo bike, and they have changed my life. Well, not really. But they have liberated me to wear crazy heels again without worrying about leg extension. In mere seconds I can adjust the saddle to whatever height I want before a ride; problem solved.

Granted, the downside to quick release seatposts is the increased possibility of saddle theft - which means either sticking with an inexpensive saddle on your QR bike, taking the seatpost and saddle with you every time you leave the bike locked up, or using an extra lock to secure the saddle to the bike. The last two are a bother, but still could be worth it for the versatility of footwear the setup affords.

Another possibility is adjusting your saddle height on the go without a QR seatpost. Just carry the appropriate tool with you. Of course this assumes the ability to do it on your own, and a willingness to constantly mess with your saddle height "the hard way." Personally, I kind of enjoy this. But still the quick release is an easier and more reasonable solution.

After several years of wearing mostly flat shoes, I've been getting back to heels and platforms lately and it's been great fun. And being able to adjust my saddle height on the go means my leg extension is always just the way I like it.

Bee-Happy

Though I have a surprisingly good track record of not crashing my bike, that does not mean I haven't gotten hurt cycling. And for whatever strange reason, the main cause of that hurt has been bees. That's right, bees.

For the record, until 5 years ago I have never had a problem with the stripey, fuzzy, industrious, winged little creatures. They are handsome. They are useful. And they make delicious sweet honey. But no sooner had I put foot to pedal than our relationship soured.

In Spring 2009 I was cycling along the Danube Bike Path outside Vienna, when a whale of a bumble bee flew directly into my face. When our worlds collided, I was going 12mph on an upright bike and it was going full bumblebee speed. It didn't sting me. It sort of bounced off my eye, just beneath the right brow bone. But the impact had such force, that I walked around with a black eye for a week. This was back when I had a 9-5 job, with an office and Important Meetings and everything. Explaining this incident - in English and German and sometimes other languages too - never failed to delight, especially when I had to resort to pantomime. Pedal-pedal-pedal... bzzz... smack, I would gesture. My audience would positively beam with understanding. Aaaaaah, yes-yes, oop-pa!

I submit to you some statistics. Before I began cycling, I'd only been stung by a bee once, maybe twice in my life. Since I began cycling? At least half a dozen times. In fact the number might be closer to 10. The first time was a shock, the second time an annoyance. After that I began to take it in stride. Still, there are a few memorable stings. Like that beautiful spring day on which I first exposed my ankles, donning 3/4 shorts instead of full length tights, only to be stung in one of said ankles, causing a baseball sized swelling. Or that time I first rode to the Fruitlands with Pamela, and, just before reaching the top of the big climb, was stung in the fold between thigh and crotch. Or the time I was stung on the palm of my hand whilst holding the handlebars and wearing cycling gloves. I admit that continuing to hold the bars for the last 20 miles home caused some whimpering.

And then there was yesterday. Just 4 miles into a 40 mile ride, I am bombing (well, okay - proceeding cautiously) downhill, when smack! A bee flies directly into my sunglasses, bouncing off the lower edge of the right lens, then off my cheekbone, before falling to the ground. At first I don't even bother slowing down. But then I realise that the creature managed to actually sting me whilst performing its death throe acrobatics. The pain is sharp, then piercing, then downright unbearable. Finally I pull over and get off the bike. By this time the right side of my face feels like it's going numb. Of all the symptoms I know associated with bee stings, this one surprises me and I calmly wonder whether Something Bad is Happening. I pull out my phone and send a text message to my husband (who has ER experience and is great for quick unsentimental feedback). I try to be precise: "stung by bee below right eye. side face numb. keep riding or seek med help?"

Unfortunately this happens in a spot with poor cell phone reception and I am not able to send the text. Or search for "bee sting, numbness" on the internet. So I decide to keep riding until I find an establishment with a bathroom where I could clean the sting and get a better look at it. This does not take long, as the area is chock full of ice cream shops and lobster shacks placed every 2/3rd of a mile or so along the coastal roads. Despite the morning hour, the nearest lobster place is already open. They have not only a bathroom but also one of those first aid ice packs that doesn't become an ice pack until you activate it. The waitresses observe with interest, elbows on the sink, as I luxuriate in their cool bathroom, washing the sunscreen and sweat and grime off my face, then applying the ice pack to the now-swollen area.

At length the numbness wears off and now only the pain of the sting remains. I reason this means I'm okay and decide to keep riding. Maybe the pain of the sting and the pain of the cycling (I plan to practice standing again - hoping to beat my 1/2 mile at a time record) would cancel each other out. This proves a good strategy and I proceed to have a lovely ride. Later in the day the swelling and pain subside and by the time I go to bed the incident is nearly forgotten.

Alas this morning I open my eyes and discover I cannot open the right one completely. The area beneath it looks like a misshapen tomato. Apparently this is pretty normal for a bee sting under the eye; it can take up to a week for the swelling to go down. Bees!

But you know how the song goes... "when the bee stings/ my favourite things" and all that? So I went on a squinty early morning bike ride and didn't feel so bad. The Advil probably helped too.

Monday Mailbox: Treating Saddle Sores

Monday Mailbox is a series of posts dedicated to questions received over email. Here is one that pops up now and again:

This is embarrassing, but lately I've been getting what I think are saddle sores after long rides. How can I tell that is what they are? And do you have any advice for treating them?

Saddle sores are one of those common, yet mysterious problems that cyclists love to discuss endlessly. I am just one voice among many and by no means an expert. Happily, I was spared the affliction of saddle sores for my first three and a half years on the bike. It is only recently, when I started covering longer distances, that I began to get them occasionally.

What exactly is a saddle sore? Part of the reason there is so much mystique and different advice out there, is that there is no single medical definition. But at least everyone agrees about their location. Saddle sores appear on the crotch, where it comes in contact with the saddle. Popular spots include the uppermost inner thighs, the "taint," and that transitional ridge where leg becomes butt.

One opinion is that saddle sores are boils caused by abrasions. Another is that they are some special, horrible type of cyst that forms as a result of fluid buildup. But probably the most popular opinion is that they are infected hair follicles. It is very possible that in fact they can be any or all of these things, depending on the rider and cause - which also means that treatment and prevention methods might differ depending on what type it is. Based on my own observations, the infected follicle theory makes the most sense, so that is what I am going with. And as it happens, I've discovered a fairly quick and simple way to get rid of them. Who knows, it might work for you. So here is what I do:

After a ride, shower as soon as possible using non-perfumed soap. Once the area is clean, you will need two ingredients: tea tree oil and vaseline. It's important that the tea tree oil is just that, and not, say, a moisturiser containing it as an ingredient. Plain tea tree oil is now available in many mainstream pharmacies, so sourcing it should not be a problem. 

Using a cotton swab, apply tea tree oil to the affected areas - but be careful not to get it onto any mucus membranes, as that could hurt. Once it dries, follow up with vaseline. Repeat every few hours, washing the area before each re-application. 

While the sores heal, either stay off the bike, or ride a bike where the way your crotch contacts the saddle is sufficiently different. Wear breathable underwear made of natural fibers. 

Using this method, any saddle sores I get go away within 2-3 days. For anything more serious I have no advice, as I've never experienced it myself. Needless to say, if your sores are not going away, consider seeing a doctor.

As far as prevention, there is of course the common sense advice: Find a saddle and shorts that work for you. Increase distances gradually. Use chamois cream to reduce friction. Be sure to shower before and after every ride. And always, always wear clean shorts. However, this is not always sufficient. Even the cleanest, most hygienic pair of shorts will turn into a bacterial cesspool after 10+ hours of riding. Even the most comfortable saddle can start to chafe eventually. And even if you start a ride squeaky clean, you will soon get filthy. That is to say, I don't think there is a sure prevention method once you start doing long distances. Some riders are more prone to saddle sores than others and some situations (such as hot weather) are more likely to cause them. You just have to deal with it when you get them. Hopefully for most of you saddle sores are just an occasional nuisance and not a serious problem. 

Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow?

Listening to cyclists' stories about their first long or difficult rides, I often hear things like "Afterward, I wanted to throw my bike away" or "The next day, I couldn't even look at my bike."

It always struck me as interesting how the feelings of pain and exhaustion caused by riding can become associated with the bike itself. In a sense, it is easier to think of the bike, a concrete object, as the source of our discomfort than it is of a deficiency in fitness or endurance on our part. We look at the bike and remember how we felt during that hard ride. It's not so much that we literally blame the bicycle, as that the bike becomes a signifier of the pain and exhaustion we experienced. That feeling of wanting to throw it out, or not wanting to look at it, is a way of dealing with frustration over our own limitations. And of course this is in addition to the possibility that the bike itself is at least partly to blame - be it through saddle discomfort, harshness of ride, inappropriate gearing, or bad positioning.

If only mildly, I have had my share of all this. I've overdone it before, to the point of fatigue at the mere sight of a bike that only time away from it could cure.

But I am thinking of this now, because more recently I've experienced something of the opposite. Still feeling battered and drained after an especially tough ride, the morning after I walked past the bike and thought about how much I loved it, and about how much I loved cycling. It was an unexpected reaction, having tumbled out of bed feeling as if a train had run over me. After a day of passion and heartbreak, it feels good to still love it all, and to want to ride again tomorrow. 

Speaking of Saddles

Earlier this week I was visiting Cycle Loft - a local bicycle shop known, among other things, for its extensive fit studio. I will be test riding a few of their bikes this summer, and the staff suggested I undergo a fitting session beforehand. As we were getting started, the fitter - Joel - caught sight of the Selle Anatomica I was riding. He asked whether I wanted to use my own saddle, given how particular it was, or try something new.

Today there are lots of high quality, well thought-out saddle designs on the market, in a variety of materials. The trick is to find one that fits our particular anatomy, position and riding style. For the past two years I've been going back and forth between a Berthoud touring saddle and a Selle Anatomica on my roadbikes. These saddles are as close as I've been able to get to being truly comfortable over long distances. But neither is perfect. So I decided to keep an open mind and see what the fitter recommended.

To start with, Joel measured my sit bones. This is something I've never had done "professionally" before, so it was pretty exciting. Cycle Loft uses the Specialized "Body Fit" method, which, as I understand it, is comparatively un-intrusive (no pelvic fondling, etc.). But there is a nifty device involved. A stool was brought out with a butt-shaped pillow, upon which I sat as instructed. When I stood up, my sit bones left two clear indentations, which Joel swiftly measured.

The figure was 135mm - considerably narrower than what I thought my sit bone width was based on my DIY measurements (the figure I'd come up with was more like 150mm). But we repeated the process just to make sure and got the same number again - so looks like 135mm it is.

Joel explained that a saddle should be wider than the sit bone width itself. How much wider depends partly on the rider's position and partly on the saddle's shape. As far as the rider's position, the more leaned forward you are, the narrower area of support is needed. That much I'd known. As far as saddle shape, Joel showed me a selection or road/racing saddles and pointed out that on some the sitting surface was flat across, while on others it was rounded, like an arc. For all my careful scrutiny of saddle shapes, this was not a distinction I'd explicitly been aware of before, so I was excited to learn something new. For any given rider, on a rounded saddle the width needs to be greater than on a flat saddle.

According to the fit chart, the saddle width recommended for my sit bones was 155mm minimum. My Berthoud saddle (which is flat) measures 160mm across, and my Selle Anatomica (which is rounded) measures 170mm across. My comfort with both makes sense according to this fit method.

Next, Joel asked what I liked and disliked about the saddles I normally use. I explained that my saddles are fairly wide across the rear, yet have narrow, racing-style noses. The wide rear and narrow nose combination works for me, because this way my butt feels fully supported but I don't get thigh-rub. Other saddles I've tried tend to be either too narrow or too wide all around, which doesn't work. I also like the feel of suspended leather, compared to other surfaces I've tried.

As far as what I don't like, that is a little trickier to explain. The Berthoud feels a bit too hard, whereas the Selle Anatomica has a bit too much give. And with each, I occasionally - at random times, it seems - feel pressure or pinching in the middle of my "soft tissue." It happens rarely now compared to the problems I used to have, but it does still happen occasionally. We discussed all this in detail, as well as the other saddles I've tried. I described my dislike of gel (I sink into it and feel horrible pressure), my inability to ride Terry saddles (the slots are somehow in the wrong place), and finding the edges of many racing saddles "too sharp" as I pedal.

After taking all of this in, Joel suggested I try the Romin Evo saddle by Specialized (interesting write-up about it here). It had everything I seemed to need: a rounded wide rear (168mm across), a narrow nose, and a firm, but not rock-hard, surface. A channel down the middle and a curved nose were designed to avoid contact with exactly the pressure-prone spots I'd identified. It is not a woman-specific saddle, but then neither are my own. A synthetic saddle made by a big-name manufacturer, it was not what I would normally gravitate toward, but I'd said I would be open minded, and so I would.

The Romin Evo is now fitted on the demo bike I'm riding. I could not feel it under me on the initial 30 mile ride, but I will withhold judgment until after the follow-up, 100K ride.

But whether this particular saddle wins me over is beside the point. What I appreciated the most was the generally informative conversation with the fitter - who I felt was neutral and knowledgeable when it came to various styles, materials, aesthetics and brands of saddles. I would like to keep learning myself, and at some point to post a comprehensive guide that might be of help to those at a loss for where to start.

Apres-Cycling: the Wine Bottle Massage

I know what you're thinking. "What, don't you own a rolling pin?" Well of course I do. But I use it for printmaking, so it lives in my studio. Luckily, what I lack in baking paraphernalia, I make up for in empty wine bottles. It's not that I drink a lot of wine, but that I tend to keep the empties for years - using them as flower vases and such. So when I came home holding my thighs today and my eye searched for something rolling pin-like, a tall bottle from a Spanish red fit the bill.

It's been a while since my legs felt this tight after a ride; I have low gears on my bikes and use them. But after two long, climbing-intensive rides a couple of days apart, a massage was in order.

There are different ways to go about doing this on your own, and here is what I do: I sit on the floor with my legs stretched out in front of me. The massage can be done on bare legs or over clothing, such as loose pajama bottoms (just not anything made of thick fabric, like jeans). I hold the bottle firmly, in one or both hands (there is no second handle as you would have on a rolling pin, but it still works okay), and move it in a gentle rolling motion up and down whatever muscles feel tight, in long strokes, at an even pressure. I use light to medium pressure, but others press harder - whatever feels right. Also, some prefer to sit on a chair, rather than stretched out on the floor. Try it both ways and see what feels better. If you need to do the back of your legs and don't have anyone to help, you can do it yourself standing up. A little awkward, but doable. Either way, this simple leg massage technique works surprisingly well on stiff, achy, or even just tired leg muscles in a fairly short amount of time. I have even seen cyclists do this during rides - using their mini bicycle pumps.

Of course if you have an unopened bottle of wine, you could combine the bottle massage with a glass of its contents for that extra bit of relaxation. A versatile product to keep on hand.

Bike Fit, How Does It Work?

Preparing my roadbike for the first skinny tire ride of Spring, I realised it's now been over a year since I've had it. And, looking at the somewhat unsightly spacer poking out above the stem I realised something else: My road position hasn't changed over that time. That bit of steerer was left uncut in case the handlebars turned out to be too low for comfort, which did not happen. The spacer below the stem has remained in place as well. Considering that prior to a year ago my position was in constant flux, it's nice to finally feel settled in.

Alas, this has not given me any great insights into the topic of bike fit. I have seen huge variations in the positions of people I ride with, each of them apparently suiting the rider just fine. I have also been exposed to a number of fit philosophies - each yielding a different conclusion about the size and setup of the bike I ought to be riding. Seasoned cyclists often advise new riders to "have an expert fitting." But depending on which philosophy the fitter subscribes to, results will vary.

Since my bike is a Seven and Seven Cycles are known for their fit methodology, I am occasionally asked to describe the fit process I went through. While I don't think my experience was typical, this seems like a good occasion to share it, so here goes:

When I first tried a Seven demo bike two summers ago, they set it up to match the position of my own bicycle. At the time, I was riding a bike with a long top tube, short stem, handlebars slightly above saddle height, and saddle pushed back to slacken an already relaxed seat tube even further. Setting up the demo bike to match mine was contrary to what I had expected going into the test ride. But Seven's Rob Vandermark suggested I start from a point of familiarity. Set up in this manner, the Seven felt good, and with the fit already familiar I could focus on its ride quality and speed. But this was a long term demo, and when I began taking part in fast group rides that summer I found myself squirming around: bending my elbows dramatically and scooting forward in the saddle. When I communicated this to Rob, he suggested some small changes, including moving the saddle forward and lowering the bars. When this adjustment was made, it felt like a step in the right direction. Eventually I was riding the bike with a straight seatpost and the handlebars placed as low as the frame would allow. It still wasn't quite right, as the frame was simply too large. But it felt better than my previous position.

Later that Fall, I built up a small vintage racing frame with modern components, based on the ideas of fit I picked up from the summer's experience. This bike had a short top tube and long stem, and handlebars just below saddle height. Though I sensed it could still use some tweaking, overall I was now very pleased with my position. When I decided to buy a Seven for the coming spring, I came in with this bike and was measured again, as well as observed and asked questions while I rode on a trainer. The kind of things that were examined and discussed were: my cadence, where I keep my hands on the bars, how much time I spend out of the saddle, my back and shoulder position, the position of my feet on the pedals, and lots of other little things that I no doubt missed. Moreover, this was also the time I became involved with the Ride Studio Cafe cycling club (a Seven Cycles dealer) - taking part in their group rides and loitering in the shop. So my formal fit experience was no doubt supplemented by their getting to know me and my riding style. There is talk of a famous 50 page questionnaire that Seven customers fill out, but I have never seen such a document; I assume it was filled out on my behalf during and after the fitting session. I did sign off on a build form in the end, and hoped for the best.

When I got the new bike, it fit differently than anything I had ridden previously, but I was left with no doubt it was the "right" fit for me. There was a sense of everything falling into place. My hands knew where the hoods were and plopped right down; my legs felt integrated with the cranks and pedals. I didn't question any aspect of the positioning. Any other roadbike I've ridden since, I try to adjust to the same specs. Depending on a bike's size and geometry, it doesn't always work - but the closer I can get it, the better it feels to ride.

And by better, I don't mean abstract notions of "position X will make me faster/ more comfortable than position Y." Neither do I have a template in mind of what constitutes proper road fit or of what looks correct. Rather, I mean physically better - proven through personal experience to feel both more comfortable, more efficient and less fatiguing. I notice, for instance, that contrary to one popular narrative, my back hurts less with the handlebars set a bit lower. And contrary to another, my legs feel better with the saddle at a steeper, rather than a slacker angle over the bottom bracket. I don't presume that the same holds true for every rider and for every style of riding, but I can't ignore evidence of what works for me. No doubt in the future, my position on the bike will continue to evolve. At what point and in which direction I don't know yet. But for now it might be safe to cut down the extra bit of steerer - affectionately referred to as the "sternum puncher" by some of my riding friends.

Funny thing: I know about half a dozen female roadcyclists who are almost identical to me in size and who all do similar types of riding. When we try each other's bikes, hilarity ensues: The fit is all wrong. Yet we each find our own positions comfortable. And all of us have had expert fittings.

As these things go, I sometimes get bike fit advice from strangers when I am out and about. It is split pretty much evenly between (a)"Your setup is way too aggressive," (b)"Your setup is not aggressive enough," and (c)"That bike is set up just right!" I have a feeling that no matter what my bike looked like, this distribution would remain about the same.

Velo Vision

About a year ago, I started to notice that I couldn't see things in the distance as well as I used to. I could read and see up close just the same as before, but things far away were losing their clarity. I noticed this most of all while cycling. The landscape was not as sharp as it once was, far-away roadsigns were more difficult to read, faces of people riding toward me were harder to recognise. As someone who's always had perfect eyesight, I had no prior experience with vision loss and it took me a while to acknowledge what was happening. But finally I went to have an eye exam and the loss of "perfect" status in the eyesight department was confirmed. I was given a prescription for glasses that the doctor said I would need mostly "for driving."

I expected shopping for glasses to be a nightmare, for the same reason finding a decent pair of cycling sunglasses had been a nightmare. But I underestimated modern technology and our neightbourhood's offering of optical shops. Picking up friends' glasses in the past, I remember them being heavy. But apparently eyeglasses today can be made extremely lightweight - with high-tech plastic and titanium frames. There is also enormous variety in shapes and sizes. I had no problem finding some that fit my face and weighed next to nothing. 

With cycling in mind, I got a pair with plastic frames and photochromic lenses. They cover a good part of my face, and the lenses turn dark in the sun, but clear at night. I have already worn them on a couple of rides and the fit is very comfortable. But wearing corrective lenses will take some getting used to! Everything in the distance now looks unnaturally sharp, or hyper-3-D. My feel for how close or far away objects are is a little disturbed by this, but I am assuming my brain will adjust eventually. 

Another thing that's happening, is that while the glasses correct my far-away vision, they do so at the expense of making things blurry up close. On the bike, this means that I can't really see anything that's directly in front of me or at handlebar level (i.e. the cycling computer on my roadbike) unless I take them off or look underneath the lenses. I am still working out how to adapt to this. Meanwhile, it's a relief to see clearly at a distance again. 

No More Tears: Clear Glasses for Winter

One of my biggest problems cycling in the winter used to be my eyes tearing up. It would get so bad, that the constant flow of tears would blur my vision, making it hard to see where I was going. But like many cyclists, I soon found the solution: clear glasses or goggles.

On moderately cold and windy days, I wear simple resin glasses that I am very happy with. They are unbranded, so I don't have an online source to refer you to, but many bike shops around here sell them at the counter. I bought mine from the Wheelworks, for around $20. What I like about these particular glasses is how comfortable they are, even on long rides. They sit sturdy, but are lightweight and don't press into my face or temples. The lenses are durable and the clarity is good.  

On particularly freezing days with harsh winds, I wear these wrap-around safety glasses from MSA. They cost only $4 and perform double duty as shop safety glasses for framebuilding. The MSA glasses are wonderful for creating a seal from the cold, keeping my eyes warm and dry and the sensitive skin around them protected. An additional benefit for those who wear prescription glasses, is that these can be worn over them. The downside is that they are on the heavy side, and if I wear them for too long they give me a headache - so watch out, if you have issues with that. But for short rides they are excellent, and on days that are cold enough to necessitate them my rides are on the short side anyway.

If you prefer the high-end route, I've tried and really liked the clear version of the new Lazer Argon glasses. These are in the $80-90 range and come with interchangeable lenses, which can be replaced with tinted ones. Oakley, Rudy Project, and most other athletic sunglass manufacturers also make clear or photochromic versions of many models.  

While some cyclists like to wear goggles, I am not a fan: They snag my hair and don't seem to stay put as well as regular glasses if I wear them on the bike. I find that the MSA safety glasses provide the same coverage but with less fuss.

There are many inexpensive options out there for clear goggles and glasses, so try a few and see what works. And if you need more coverage? Well, a few days ago I saw a man cycling with a clear face shield. Perhaps a new fashion trend in winter cycling. 

Achingly Upright

Longer commutes over the past few months have given me the opportunity to ride a variety of upright bikes over varying distances. And while achieving a particular fit is less important to me on upright bikes than it is on roadbikes, I still have preferences. For instance, my ideal handlebar height is on the low side. I began to notice that fairly early on, lowering the bars on my city bikes further with each passing year. I'd assumed this growing preference had to do with performance: That maybe as I picked up handling skills and began to ride faster, lower handlebars just made more sense. And in part that's probably true. But lately I've realised that it's also a matter of physical comfort.

Riding several bikes with the bars set higher than I prefer, I notice that my back starts to hurt after some miles. It's a distinct kind of dull, gnawing pain, somewhere around the shoulder blade area. On bikes where the bars are set lower, I don't experience the pain. And having moved the handlebars on one of the "painful" bikes down an inch, the pain disappeared. I've tried this a few times now over the past couple of months with the same result: When the bars are too high, my back aches.

The downside to having a city bike set up the way I like, is that other women who try it usually tell me the handlebars feel too low. In the end, it's about finding our personal optimal position. And too upright can be just as achy as too leaned forward.

SPD Pedals and Platform Support

When it comes to SPD-style clipless pedals, there is some discussion about the benefits of models with integrated platforms versus without. For example, here is an email I received from a reader last week:

...I see in your photos that you use both the Crank Brothers Eggbeaters and Candy pedals. Which do you recommend for a beginner? My boyfriend likes Shimano A-520 pedals because of the extra platform support. His thought is that the Candys provide the same level of support, but not the Eggbeaters. Do you agree?

To answer this question, let me backtrack a bit. The Eggbeater and Candy pedals from Crank Brothers are identical, except that the Candys (right) have a flat platform built around the bindings and the Eggbeaters (left) do not. When choosing pedals, I heard several arguments in favour of the Candys, including that the platform offers extra foot support, that as a beginner I would have an easier time clipping into a larger pedal, and that the platforms would allow me to ride in regular shoes.

I have now ridden with Candys on my own roadbike for the past 9 months. Over that time I have also borrowed friends' bikes with Eggbeaters (including a 100K ride). In the very beginning, the Candys were indeed easier for me to clip into. However, this advantage was short-lived and just weeks later I already had no problem using Eggbeaters and could not distinguish between them. I can also confirm that the Candys are much easier to ride in street shoes, on the rare occasions I find myself doing this on a roadbike. But as far as foot support, I feel absolutely no difference between the two models. I thought that I would, but I don't.

The Eggbeaters have their own advantages. The lack of platforms makes them considerably lighter. They offer more points of entry. And they are easier to clean. Overall, I think that I prefer them, although really I am fine with either.

While not the same as the Crankbrothers system, you could draw parallels to this comparison with Shimano SPDs. There are pedals that consist of bindings alone, and those that incorporate a platform. Some claim the platform provides additional foot support and allows for more power to be transferred, making it similar to a road pedal. Others argue that this is not the case, as the platform sits too far below the binding to provide significant support. I have no comment on the mechanics of this at large, but can only say that with my style of riding, and my specific pedal and shoe combination, I cannot feel the difference. As a beginner, I would suggest trying lots of pedals and figuring out what feels better to you.

It's Not About the Weather

While we wait for Hurricane Sandy to arrive, I am still finding sand caked on my bike from an earlier rainy, muddy ride. It seems that every time I have ridden this bike so far, it has rained. Of course today, on my inaugural ride with fenders, it is sunny and dry. A friend consoles me by reminding me of the approaching hurricane. Surely I will have the opportunity to test the fenders then. I take the idea seriously and begin to mentally map out a route on some local trails, before realising how utterly insane that is. When the townsfolk are stocking up on canned goods and flashlight batteries, I should probably stay indoors.

With the season marching on toward starker days, I find myself thinking of weather. As cyclists we all tend to have an idea of the "perfect weather" for riding. For some it's the height of summer. For others it's that elusive "60 degrees and sunny, with a mild breeze." A few riders I know prefer cooler temperatures, and some even claim to enjoy rain. I think for me, the biggest revelation has been that, when push comes to shove, I can feel good in almost any weather. 

After a recent post describing a rainy ride on dirt roads, a reader wrote: "It's in our nature to want to be comfortable and coddled, but you celebrate the joy of pushing yourself through rain and mud." I felt guilty reading this, because honestly I don't feel as if I am overcoming discomfort or pushing myself when I ride in those kinds of conditions. And I think that is the key to my being able to do it. The secret is to find a way of being comfortable, to just go with it and appreciate the situation for what it is, rather than spending energy on trying to overcome it. Maybe this is just a different way of looking at the same thing, but to me it makes a big difference. Rather than pushing through discomfort, I extract comfort. 

Part of it is of course practical considerations. Figuring out how to dress, eat and drink in different conditions. Over the summer I stumbled upon some tricks that enabled me to ride in heat in humidity like I'd never managed to do before. And last winter, I discovered that riding in sub-20 degree temperatures was also very doable with the help of strategic layering. But equally important is the attitude. We have to be curious, interested. We have to want the experience. 

What is my idea of perfect riding weather... Probably high 40s to low 50s, with heavily overcast skies. I feel most alive then; the raw energy in the air makes me want to ride faster, further. But in the end, it's not about the weather, but about finding comfort in whatever is thrown at me, about feeling coddled by the beauty of the surrounding landscape. 

The Post-Flu Slow Bike Phase

So, I've been rendered nonoperational with the flu this week. Not the "meh I feel yucky" kind of nonoperational, but the "what day is this?" kind. But while I am missing a lot of work and good riding, I'm not complaining. First, because it's only the flu and does not look like pneumonia (historically I've been partial to the latter). And second, because over the past two years this sort of thing has gone from what used to be a regular occurrence for as long as I can remember, to becoming rare. So I am happy to pay the price with this one bout of flu for what has otherwise been a pneumonia-free, flu-free, cold-free year, thanks very much and knock on wood.

Still, as I count the days until I can breathe freely and stand up without feeling dizzy again, I look at my roadbike with a touch of dread. I know it will not be the same again the next time I ride it. "The bike" will feel slower. And I will feel frustrated, set back, discouraged. This makes the post-flu phase a tricky, delicate time, because it can lead to riding less, which will only make things worse.

When it comes to riding with others at times like these, I never know what to do. Almost everyone I normally ride with is a stronger cyclist than me, and even in my best shape I already feel guilty for holding them back. So after being off the bike, my instinct is to ride on my own for a bit until I get back to the state where I am worthy of these superstar riding partners. The trouble with that approach is that I don't push myself as hard when I ride alone. If I join the others right away, I may feel embarrassed and overwhelmed for the first couple of rides, but I'll get back into shape faster.

Getting back into riding for transportation is easier, and makes me appreciate just how little effort cycling can take. I simply switch into a low gear, pedal softly, coast as much as possible, and eventually I'll get there - with less effort than walking. Of course the bike is still slower than it was before I got sick. But that's how it goes. It should be back to its old speedy self in a week or two!

Chamois Creams: a Comparative Review

One of the first cycling-specific products I began to use when I started riding for longer distances, was chamois cream. Pronounced "shammy cream," this type of product is applied either directly to the crotch or to the inside of bicycle shorts (or underwear), in order to reduce chafing. The creams also have soothing, wound-healing and antibacterial properties that feel nice and help prevent infections. I have extremely rash-prone skin and I am prone to UTIs, but using chamois cream has virtually eliminated these problems. I go through the stuff fairly quickly, using up a tube every 1-2 months when I ride regularly. I have tried a handful of different brands. When I run out, I usually buy whatever the local bike shops sell, which can vary. A couple of the creams I've gotten based on friends' recommendations. Here is what I think of the ones I've used over the past 3 years:

I will start with Chamois Butt'r, which was the first cream I tried. It is available in two versions: regular and "eurostyle" - the former being non-tingly and the latter tingly. I bought the regular version first, and it did not work for me all that well; I found it somewhat bland and not entirely effective in preventing chafing unless I used a huge amount. It also did not stay effective for very long - maybe an hour tops. So next I tried the eurostyle and liked it a lot better; it did a better job preventing chafing than the regular version and lasted longer. It is worth noting that some people can't stand the tingly/cooling types of chamois creams and find that they burn or itch, so be careful. However, I do not have this problem and prefer the cooling creams. 

The consistency of Chamois Butt'r is medium-thick. Ingredients of the eurostyle version include witch hazel, aloe and menthol. But the dominating scent is oddly medicinal rather than herbal. While not my favourite cream, the eurostyle Butt'r does the job. I also like that it comes in smaller tubes, making it easy to keep in a jersey pocket in case you need to reapply in the course of the day. 

I tried DZ Nuts because it was the only cream a nearby bike shop carried when I ran out and needed more. I remember distinctly how reluctant I was to get it, because the packaging put me off (the image just says "crotch on fire" to me). But once I tried it, it became my preferred product. DZ Nuts has a cooling feel similar to the eurostyle Chamois Butt'r, except it works better for me and the effects last longer. The soothing and healing properties are excellent, and I have even used it to soothe sunburn and rashes outside the saddle area. There is now a woman's version of this cream (Bliss) and I tried a sample at some point, but did not care for it. They basically eliminated the cooling effect for the women's cream.

The consistency of DZ Nuts is on the thin side, similar to body lotion. Ingredients include tea tree oil, sandalwood, barley extract and menthol - which the scent reflects. The scent is pretty strong and that might put some people off, but it does not really bother me. I like that this cream comes in a tube, though I wish a smaller size was available.

While Vaseline/ petroleum jelly is not marketed as a chamois cream, it can work in that capacity. I learned about this on Rivendell's website (here is the article) and decided to try it, since it's so much less expensive than actual chamois cream and readily available in any drug store. Vaseline both lubricates and heals. There is no tingling to bother those who are sensitive to it, there are no ingredients than can irritate, and the smell is more or less neutral. When traveling long distance, a cyclist can stop at any pharmacy and get some.

However, the problem I found with Vaseline is that it can seep through bicycle shorts (especially if they are unpadded) and discolour or otherwise damage leather saddles. It can also discolour the shorts themselves, leaving grease-like stains that resist removal. I stopped using Vaseline fairly quickly for these reasons despite its effectiveness and low cost. But I would still use it in an emergency, and I often use it post-rides. 

Mad Alchemy is a local-to-me company. Their chamois cream is all-natural, paraben-free, and US-made in small batches. So far I have tried the Pro+ and the LaFemme versions of the cream. They both feel markedly different than the mass-produced creams, especially the texture and smell - both are somewhere in between the filling of lemon pie and old-fashioned cold cream. It looks whipped, semi-transparent and almost luminous. As far as chafing prevention, I find the Pro+ version more effective than the LaFemme. The Pro+ has a mild tingly effect and combines some of the properties I like in DZ Nuts and eurostyle Chamois Butt'r, but suspended in a different type of base.

The consistency of the Mad Alchemy Pro+ is medium-heavy. Ingredients include grape seed, tea tree, sweet orange and lavender oil. The scent reflects this, but is very mild. While I like everything about the Mad Alchemy cream in itself, I find the packaging inconvenient as I can't carry it in a jersey pocket and reapply when necessary. I wish they made a version in a tube. 

I bought the Sportique Century Riding Cream on the recommendation of a friend, who rides long distance and is crazy about it. I was complaining that no saddle seems to feel comfortable to me after 60 miles or so, and she recommended liberally applying this cream as a solution. I did, and I wish it worked. The cream is described as anti-microbal and anti-fungal. But honestly, it just feels like thick moisturising lotion. Sure, it prevents friction if I absolutely pack my shorts with it, but the effect fades fairly quickly and I do not experience the healing and soothing properties as I do with the creams I prefer. 

The consistency of the Sportique is medium-heavy. Ingredients include shea butter, wheat protein, sweet almond oil and beeswax. The scent is heavy on the shea butter and quite strong, almost candy-like. While this cream might work wonders for some, it is not for me. 

I tried the Rapha chamois cream over this past winter. I forgot to apply my own cream before a long ride, and a local shop had it in stock as a new release. Like many Rapha products, this cream has a whole romantic narrative attached to it ("...inspired by the flora around Mont Ventoux") and comes in some pretty fetishistic packaging including a slender tin jar with raised lettering. But this aside, the product works very well for me: It cools, soothes, prevents chafing and its effectiveness lasts a surprisingly long time (possibly the longest of the chamois creams I've used).

Consistency is medium-thin, similar to DZ Nuts. In the jar it resembles the original Noxema face cream I used as a teenager. Ingredients include glycerine, shea butter, menthyl and rosemary extract. However, it smells rather aggressively of pine - which I can't stand in any context other than on actual pine trees. So while I like the cream quite a lot, my dislike of the smell prevents me from purchasing it again. That, and the pretty jar is awkward to carry in my jersey pocket.

Boudreux's Butt Paste is the product Pamela Blalock recommends, so of course I had to try it. I ordered myself a sample and am not sure what to make of it. Not an actual chamois cream but a diaper rash treatment, the consistency and smell are like nothing else I can reference. Ingredients include zinc oxide, boric acid and castor oil. The scent is medicinal and odd; I can't really place it. While mildly unpleasant, it is not overbearing. The colour is tan-brown. Consistency is half way between toothpaste and putty. 

True to its name, this stuff is definitely a paste and not a cream. It feels a little stiff to apply and does not spread quite as easily as actual chamois creams. The upside is that it stays put rather tenaciously. If your saddle discomfort is concentrated in a specific spot, this could be a particularly good product to use because it will actually stay in the area where you apply it. I have not yet decided whether I prefer Boudreux's over the other creams I like, but it is certainly an interesting one. And the fact that it comes in tubes of different sizes is very convenient. 

All things considered, the chamois cream I gravitate toward the most is probably DZ Nuts. It works for me, it can be purchased at several local bike shops, and it's available in a tube. But as with most other products, preferences differ. I like the "euro" style creams with the tingly/cooling sensation, while others cannot tolerate them. Despite being female, I consistently prefer the men's/unisex versions of creams and don't like the women's formulas. I find tubes more practical than jars. And I am relatively indifferent about a cream's consistency and texture, while others have very specific preferences in this regard. Chamois creams differ in their properties and it may take you a couple of tries to find one you like. While some popular names are absent from this review, these are the products I've used so far and I hope my descriptions are helpful. 

Cycling and Hairstyles: Long vs Short

This morning I received an email from a reader asking whether I prefer long or short hair for cycling. Short answer: Long! 

Last summer I chopped my hair for the first time in nearly two decades. While I didn't do it for the sake of cycling, I did expect short hair to be easier to manage for someone who rides a lot compared to my previously unruly mane. Surely it would feel lighter, be less prone to getting disheveled and sweaty, be easier to comb. Lots of active women have short hair, so this logic made sense. 

But oh how wrong I was. You know how sometimes you have a bad hair day? I feel like I've had a bad hair year. While I like the look of my bob and it was nice to have a change, as far as cycling it's been annoying and fussy. Not long enough to fit into a pony tail, it is long enough to fly into my eyes when I ride unless I use lots of pins. This includes the times I am roadcycling and wearing a helmet - loose strands won't stay under the helmet, but fly in my face unless I remember to pin them down. Post-ride maintenance is harder as well. When my hair was long and it got disheveled or tangled after a ride, I could simply put it up in a "messy bun" and it would look decent enough. With short hair there is no way to hide the mess; looking presentable after a sweaty or windy ride is a challenge.

So while it may seem counter-intuitive, my experience as a cyclist has been that long hair is easier to deal with: With or without a helmet, I can just tie it back or braid it and forget about it. Now that mine fits into a pony tail again, I am ecstatic and feel like I need to write a note to myself with a reminder to never cut it again. I could see how a buzz-cut or pixie cut would be low-maintenance, but my chin-length bob has been anything but. 

What are your thoughts on hair maintenance and cycling? Have you changed or tweaked your hairstyle as a result of riding a bike?

How Upright Is Upright?

There is a tendency to group all upright transportation bicycles into the same general townie/cruiser-ish category. And when we see the description "upright bike" we imagine whatever it is that fits our own definition of that idea. But differences in what are commonly referred to as "upright" positions can be considerable. Above are three classic examples side by side: a traditional Dutch bike, an Italian city bike, and a French-style mixte - all three of which I have owned and ridden.

To a large extent it is the placement of the handlebars that determines how upright a bicycle is set up. But while the Dutch bike's handlebars can be lowered and the bars on the other two can be raised, it's not entirely as simple as that: The design of the frame itself assumes a particular range of positions; the frame geometry is optimised for it.

The Dutch bike is designed to enable a bolt-uright posture. The handlebars are high. The stem is so short as to be practically non-existant, bringing the bars even closer to the rider's body. The seat tube angle is slack. Altogether, the cyclist is "pushed back" on the bike into what almost resembles an armchair position. The epitome of "upright," this posture is not for everyone. But it is supremely comfortable for short trips and it allows cyclist to observe their surroundings from a greater height.

The traditional French mixte is typically more aggressive than other city bikes. The frame design is frequently not very different from that of a road bike - steep angles, head tube not much higher, if at all, that the seat tube, comparatively lightweight tubing. When built up as upright bikes, these bicycles are at their best when set up with long stems and handlebars at or even below saddle level. With the cyclist's weight pushed forward, the bicycle is extremely responsive and maneuverable. But the "upright" posture with this set-up can be quite aggressively leaned over.

Somewhere in the middle, the Italian city bike is really a variation of the so-called "sports roadster" design (the ubiquitous Raleigh Sports and Lady's Sports were examples of these): swept-back handlebars at or moderately above saddle level, combined with a short stem for a generally upright but slightly leaned-forward position. The seat tube is not as slack as that on a Dutch bike, but still relatively relaxed. The cyclist can lean into the bike if they wish to apply more power, or they can sit back. I personally find this to be a very versatile position - though others might call it "neither/ nor" - neither as regally relaxed as a Dutch bike, nor as maneuverable as a roadish French mixte.

While definitions of "upright bike" run the gamut, my personal definition requires that the bicycle pass the Camera Test. That is, I must be able to ride the bike with my large camera staying put on my back, strap worn across my chest, without the camera rotating to the front. I can't do it on a roadbike with drop bars, not even when I am on the hoods or the tops. But I can do it on all three bikes shown in this post, which makes them all different variations of "upright" to me. What do you typically think of as an upright position, and which do you prefer for everyday cycling? 

Cycling Fever?

I had this question when I first began doing strenuous rides and recently someone asked me the same thing: Is it normal to run a fever after cycling?

The short answer is: Yes. It happens to some people. Not to all, but to some. I am one of them, and I now know a few others who experience this with regularity - always have. The evening after a strenuous ride, I will often run a fever and might even develop a sore throat. While it's happening it can feel very much like the flu. But the next morning all symptoms will be gone, so it is not a case of actually getting sick.

My understanding is that this is a normal reaction that some people simply have to certain types of exertion. It may have to do with how our bodies engage in muscle repair. Or it may have to do with circulation issues. No one seems certain, but it does happen.

Regardless of how or why it happens, I have noticed there are things I can do to alleviate it. For instance: taking a hot shower or bath after a ride, taking an NSAID or acetaminophen concoction, eating warm "comfort food" such as soup or scrambled eggs, drinking lots of fluids, and trying to get as much physical rest as possible. Basically treating it like the flu works for me. It dulls the symptoms while they are happening, so that I can still be productive with the rest of my evening. And the next day I feel good as new - only the muscle soreness remains.

If you experience fever or flu-like symptoms after strenuous cycling, how do you deal with it?

Upside Down North Roads

During the VCC Northern Ireland Ride last weekend I had the opportunity to ride several bicycles that were fitted with upside down North Road handlebars - classic swept-back bars mounted upside down in order to achieve a lower hand position. Personally, I love upside-down North Roads. Unlike many other handlebar set-ups designed to achieve an aggressive posture, I've always found them comfortable and intuitive. So it surprised me to learn from others on the ride that this set-up tends to be a "love it or hate it" sort of thing, with many falling firmly into the latter category. 

Apparently, those who do not like the bars report that they make a bike's handling twitchy - almost providing too much leverage for comfort. That intrigues me, because that same feeling of leverage is what makes me feel in control of the bike - able to manipulate it and "place it" as it were exactly as I want.

I also like the ergonomics: My wrists just seem to naturally plop down onto the gripping areas as they do on regularly mounted North Roads, but the low placement of my hands enables a much more aggressive position than on a typical upright bike. It's almost like riding with drop handlebars, except with access to standard brake levers in the drops.

Interestingly though, I noticed that all the upside-down North Roads on the VCC ride were set up with the gripping areas pointing down, whereas in the US I usually see them set up with the gripping areas more or less parallel to the ground. I cannot tell which I find more comfortable.

Setting a bicycle up with upside-down North Roads is the best method I know of achieving an aggressive yet ergonomic hand position without resorting to drop bars. I am curious what your thoughts on them are. 

Seatpost Setback and Related Matters

A couple of days ago I replaced the seatpost on my Rivendell Sam Hillborne with one that has zero setback, and the change has been interesting. Before I go any further, I will warn you that this is a continuation of the long top tube post. So if that one gave you a headache, please stop reading now and save your sanity! Or, continue at your own risk.

For those new to the concept of setback, seatposts come with different amounts of it. One of the things the setback does is move the saddle clamp back, thus altering a bike's effective seat tube angle. Say your bicycle frame has a 74° seat tube, and you buy a seatpost with 2cm of setback. Unless you counteract the setback by moving the saddle forward along the rails, your bicycle's effective seat tube angle will be 2° slacker, making it more like 72°. And you can make it slacker still by pushing the saddle further backward. By contrast, a seatpost that goes straight up with no setback leaves your frame's natural seat tube angle unaltered. Seat tubes today tend to be steep, so it is rare that anybody wants to make them steeper still. But with a zero-setback seatpost, it is possible to make the effective angle a bit steeper by pushing the saddle forward on the rails.

The other factor influenced by a seatpost's setback is the reach from saddle to handlebars. The more setback a seatpost has, the further the saddle moves away from the handlebars. Here it is worth noting that bicycle fit experts typically warn against messing with seatpost setback and saddle positioning in order to alter reach. Instead it is advised that one's saddle position preference should be fixed in relation to the bottom bracket. At least that is my understanding.

Getting back to my bike, it has a 52cm seat tube and a 57.5cm top tube - the latter being unusually long given the former. Additionally, it has a 71.5° seat tube angle, which is atypically slack. In previous posts I explained that when I ride this bicycle, I feel as if my body is not sufficiently forward. The long top tube will not allow me to fit the bike with a stem longer than 7cm, and the slack seat tube puts me further back still.

Originally the bike was built up with a seatpost with generous setback, making the effective seat tube angle even slacker than its natural 71.5°. Eventually I replaced it with a seatpost that had only minimal setback, but even that did not feel as if I were sufficiently forward. I was reluctant to go with a zero-setback seatpost, because everyone I spoke to acted horrified by the idea. "Zero setback? What are you trying to do, turn it into a racing bike?" However, after the "long top tube" post I came to the conclusion that a zero setback seatpost is the most obvious solution. Far from making the bike "racy," it would simply continue the frame's already slack seat tube angle without slackening it further. Or, I could move the saddle a tiny bit forward and make the effective seat tube angle a rather normal 73° (as it is on my other two bicycles with drop bars). So, that is exactly what I did.

The welcome side-effect of the new saddle position is that the long top tube problem seems to be resolved. My reach has been reduced considerably and I can get a longer stem if I want. But even with the current stem I already feel myself positioned significantly more forward on the bike than before. The subjective sensation of this is greater than I would have predicted: I feel more in control over the steering, and I feel that the bicycle is distinctly faster to accelerate and to start from a stop. Although visually the saddle comes across as being too far forward now, its relationship to the bottom bracket is actually quite normal for a roadbike (off-the-shelf road frames in my size typically have 74-75° seat tube angles). I need to take the bicycle on a longer ride before I can say more, but I think this setup may be just the thing.

It's been exactly two years since I received the Sam Hillborne frame as a holiday gift, and this bicycle has given me over 2,000 happy miles. I've changed a lot as a cyclist over this time and the Sam's frame is quirkier than I initially realised. But I am going to try and make it work for me - hopefully learning a thing or two in the process.