What it's all about

The best days on a bike aren’t about speed. They’re about the ride, the scenery, the freedom and the people. So today, I went riding with one of my favorite people—my daughter, Hannah. And I told her to ride whatever speed she liked.

She hasn’t logged a ton of miles lately, so when she said she was up for riding the 50K route in the Winter City 30K/50K Randonnée, I wasn’t sure she’d have that kind of distance in her legs. We made contingency plans for bail-out points. I offered shortcuts, because we weren’t bothering to have our cards signed at controls anyway. We were just out to ride.

She declined the shortcuts, stuck to the course, and held her pace all the way to the finish with nearly two hours to spare before the time cutoff. She made me proud. Some kids could have finished faster, but none of them showed up. And I doubt that the average 17-year-old would have finished at all. Besides, it ain’t about the speed. It’s about the ride. And I got to ride all day with Hannah, which is a damn good way to spend a Sunday.

Big thanks to Kevin and Alaska Randonneurs, who put on this event as a fundraiser for Bicycle Commuters of Anchorage, and to all the volunteers, especially the folks at Point Woronzof with their steaming baked potatoes and hot chocolate.

And thanks to Bicycles & Icicles reader Soren, who inspired this post three years ago, and then introduced himself and bought me a post-ride beer at the Peanut Farm this afternoon. It was good to hear that Soren recently treated himself to a Salsa Mukluk so he no longer has to commute on that studded singlespeed.

Nobody cares that you singlespeed, Soren. But we do care that you found the beauty of fatness. Welcome to the corpulent club.

Ready to roll

On Saturday, the weather was sunny and beautiful,
but I spent the afternoon in the garage.

I didn't mind.

On Sunday, I got up early, did a 50K ride,
then returned to the garage. Tired. And I
still didn't mind.

On Monday, I'll ride to work on my new
Fatback. And my 16-year-old daughter
will get out to ride hers.

After building it herself.

Portage gets prime

Hannah at Portage Glacier (1.15.11)

I’m generally of the opinion that when life hands you lemons, you should throw them at the bastards who are pissing you off. Screw that lemonade crap. Mother Nature hands you non-lethal projectiles, it's your freakin' duty to use them.

But when winter melts the snow and hands you ice, there’s no one blameworthy to throw it at, so you just have to ride on it. That’s what I did with some friends and my daughter last weekend after I heard—for the first time in several years—that riding conditions were prime on Portage Lake. Riding to a glacier isn’t an everyday opportunity, even in Alaska, so you have to take advantage of it.

A scenic lake ride is a nice reminder that there is beauty to be found even in the darkest, ugliest moments of winter. Plus, it keeps a guy from drinking too much tequila and shooting the trash cans full of holes while waiting for snow to fall.

Take some thick ice and some thick fleece, and mix them with some thick-headed mountain bikers determined to ride 12 months a year, and you can cook up some pretty special rides.

This is the season of big-screen TVs blaring the sounds of roaring crowds and colliding football players every weekend. You can have them.

The booming and cracking of ice is way more interesting.

Especially when you’re standing on it.

Stick it

I guess most people outgrow a fascination with stickers, but I never did. I still love the things, especially if they’re free. And with my addiction, bike-related stickers are always the best. Product logos, shop names, smart-ass phrases, they’re all good.

When my daughter’s new Crank Bros. pedals arrived yesterday with two free stickers in the box, the selfish kid in me was momentarily tempted to snatch one for myself. Fortunately, the bike-junkie dad in me—the part that likes spreading seeds for an obsession—knew that a kid who was already excited about her first clipless pedals would like the freebies even more than I would. I handed them over, and soon found myself voluntarily raiding my personal sticker stash and watching her decorate a new school binder with a mountain-bike theme.

Within a few minutes a standard, boring binder had become a display of velo coolness that was way better than any rock-band logos or vinyl expressions of teenage angst.

Maybe I’m just a dreamer, but seeing an IMBA sticker on a high-school kid’s notebook gives me hope.

Girl power

My 13-year-old daughter and I have changed our daily routines this fall. I'm not riding to work, and she's riding most every day, even if it is just a short, one-way trip.

School boundaries changed for this year and she would have had to move to a new middle school unless we got her a zone exemption, which means no bus transportation from our area. Mom leaves early, so I drive Hannah to a nearby neighborhood where she catches the bus each morning. We usually stash her bike in her best friend's garage so she can ride it home in the afternoon.

Now that the streets are icing up, she's talking about wanting studded tires so she won't have to endure walking home while Mom and Dad are still at work.

As we were driving across town one night last week, she told me that kids at school had pronounced her "weird." When I asked why, she explained that they were shocked to hear she was still using a bicycle for transportation weeks after their bikes started collecting dust in garages. I wasn't worried because I could tell the "weird" label had been applied in a fun way, but I asked how it made her feel.

"Kind of strange, I guess," she replied.

"But maybe a little proud, in an odd way?" I asked.

A big grin spread across her face as she said, "Yeah."

That's my girl.