Tag Archives: Houston

No Chip Seal Here

I bought my first bike in Houston.  My early solo rides were on the few bike trails along the Columbia Tap to Trail and Brays Bayou.  Then I met the Six Thirty group.  The majority of our group riding was done on city streets.  In most cases there were no bike lanes.  Where there were bike lanes you tended to stay out of them.  I remember Washington Avenue having a bike lane in name only.  What had been designated as a bike lane was badly rutted filled and with debris.  So we took our chances toward the center of the lane.

We also rode on the farm-to-market roads outside Houston.  There was less traffic on them, which was a plus.  They tended to be chip sealed, which was a minus.  Chip seal has a layer of aggregate embedded in the bitumen or asphalt.  On that surface we were were modern-day Rough Riders.

The Dutch cyclist has the good fortune to have 29,000 km of bike paths.   The Dutch cyclist is truly blessed to have 29,000 km of bike paths that are almost without exception well-maintained.  The majority of the paths are asphalt.  Those are generally the smoothest.  Some paths are made of concrete slabs or pavers.  Those sometimes have cracks and bumps in them.  Then come the brick bike paths, which run the range from smooth to bumpy.

Bike paths in towns and cities are usually red.  This differentiates the bike paths from the road where bicycles and motor traffic share the same road-space.  This one is asphalt.

Bike path

In the center of towns and villages the surface is occasionally brick.  Ideally the bricks form a smooth surface.  Sometimes though you are in for a rough ride.

Kinderdijk Ride Brick Road

Concrete pavers often appear around the edges of towns.  This a section of the new bike path on the beach south of Kijkduin.  The dashed center line indicates that this is a two-way path.  The surface is good enough for the Not Possibles to hit 45 kph / 28 mph or more when the wind is right.

Katwijk Pavers

Outside towns the paths are almost always asphalt.  Usually smooth and fast, although this section of the LF 1 near Monster is due for resurfacing.

Hoek Van Holland 02

This smooth asphalt path is in Midden Delfland.

Kinderdijk Ride Seat View 1

Where the paths follow roads the two are usually separated.  Like this one in Noordwijk.

IJmuiden aan Zee Nordwijk Trees

Now that I am in Kuala Lumpur I am back to riding on city streets and sharing the roads with other traffic.  Riding in Kuala Lumpur is a lot like riding in Houston.  Except there is no chip seal here.

Austin or Bust

As the Houston winter turned to spring conversations turned to the MS 150.  The main event of the year for many in the Six Thirty group.  There was an expectation that you were riding the MS150.  What could possibly stop you?

The MS 150 is a two-day ride of between 150 mi / 240 km and 180 mi / 290 km, depending on which of the three starting points you choose in Houston.  Day One ends at the Fayette County Fairgrounds in La Grange.  The final destination is next to the Texas State Capitol in Austin.  The purpose of the ride is to raise money for multiple sclerosis research and other services supported by the National MS Society.

75 mi / 120 km was well beyond my longest ever ride.  My first challenge was to convince myself that I could ride that far.  So I rode the events that were billed as MS 150 training rides, like the Humble Lions Bike Ride in March.  I huffed up the climbs at Cat Spring, Chappell Hill and Bellville, hoping that I would be adequately prepared for the mythic hills of Austin.  By March I felt I probably had enough miles and climbs in my legs to sign up for the event.

I was a very late entrant and was lucky to get a place.  The MS 150 is a very popular ride and the 13,000 places get snapped up very quickly every year.  I was, it seemed, a beneficiary of the appalling weather that plagued the 2009 ride.  Day One had been cancelled and the rain, wind and cold made Day Two miserable for the riders.  Some of whom had decided not to sign up for the 2010 event.  Leaving spots available for latecomers like myself.

Once I had my place in the event there were two things to do.  One was to raise the minimum fundraising pledge.  I had left myself very little time to hit up my friends for donations.  Most of whom were looking for their own donors anyway.  The solution was simple.  My biker chick and I split the required amount between us.

The second task was to find a team to ride with.  The obvious choice was my employer, but the Hess Corporation team was full.  Tom B. came through for me, again, and managed to get me a last-minute spot on the Exxon Mobil team with him.  I was so late that I had missed the deadline for ordering a team jersey.  Not such a bad thing in hindsight.  I don’t think it would have done me much good to be seen in an Exxon Mobil jersey by the great and the good of Hess Corporation.

As the big day drew closer I continued to worry about never having ridden 75 mi / 120 km before.  So the weekend before the MS 150 I rode in The Space Race.  A loop from Gulf Greyhound Park in La Marque through the Brazoria National Wildlife Refuge to the west, then north to the outskirts of Angleton before heading eastward toward Alvin and back to La Marque.  I felt good at the halfway point.  I felt really terrible with 20 mi / 32 km to go.  I was hot and tired and hungry and barely maintaining forward progress into a constant headwind.  The event was billed as a 100 mi / 160 km ride.  I was so thankful that the finish came sooner than advertised.  I didn’t get my first century ride under my belt that day.  But more importantly I did come away convinced that I could finish the MS 150.  Even if it almost killed me!

A group of Six Thirtyers rolled out of Jack Rhodes Memorial Stadium in Katy at dawn.  It would take far too many words to describe the energy, the excitement, the exuberance, the entertainment and the exhilaration of the next two days.  This is one of those events where you truly had to be there.


In Bellville and Fayetteville  and La Grange and Bastrop and Austin there were crowds lining the streets ringing cowbells, blowing bubbles, waving signs, cheering, tooting horns, shouting “thank you.”  We even had live music.  A fiddle band at one point.  A bagpiper in full regalia at another.  There were brigades of cheerful volunteers at every rest stop.  The familiar faces of the West End Bicycle guys at their bike service tent in Industry.  Everyone encouraging us on with a friendly wave and a smile.

This is some of the Six Thirty group at the lunch stop at Bellville on Day One.  There were five of us in Exxon Mobil jerseys.  Only one of us was actually an employee of that company.

On Day Two we all put on our Six Thirty jerseys.  It has become a tradition that the group foregoes the Bastrop lunch stop sandwiches provided by the MS 150 organizers for the much tastier fare at Whataburger.  Texas’ own burger chain.

This was the first time I had been to a Whataburger.  I shouldn’t have waited so long.  As Whataburger say in their commercials, “It’s shut your mouth good.”

After our burgers, fries and shakes it was 32 mi / 51 km to the finish line in Austin.  Where Tom and I naturally had to pose in front of the Texas State Capitol building for the signature glory shot.

I knew right there that I would do this ride again in 2011.  What I didn’t know right there was that the experience in 2011 would be even better.

Mark’s Nasi Lemak Ride

The West End Bicycles Six Thirty group in Houston has Ted’s Taco Ride.  Mark’s Nasi Lemak Ride could become the equivalent for the Racun Cycling Gang in Kuala Lumpur.  Roti canai and teh tarik have made frequent appearances in my posts.  This is the first time I have mentioned nasi lemak.  Nasi lemak is another quintessential Malaysian dish.  Best described by a good friend of mine, Azlan Zahari Zahid, who writes a blog titled The Nasi Lemak Journal.  Click on the link to his blog to read his description of this very popular dish.

Mark Lim suggested that we add a ride to the Sungai Congkak Recreational Forest to the end of our round trip from Kampung Batu 18 to the Sungai Tekala Recreational Park.  More specifically, to the nasi lemak at Sungai Congkak.  Mark, Chon and I set off at 7.15am for Sungai Tekala.  Two hours later we were back at Kampung Batu 18 and ready for the main event of the day.  After a final 75 meters / 250 feet  of climbing we pulled up to an unassuming stall on the bank of a small river.

This is what we came for.

Individual packets of nasi lemak wrapped in banana leaf.  The traditional way of serving this dish.  Here’s what was inside each packet.

A little mound of coconut and pandan flavored rice topped with a sambal made from chillies, onion and dried anchovies, a slice of cucumber and a bit of omelette.  Simple and delicious.  We demolished two packets each in next to no time.  Which turned out to be the last of that batch of nasi lemak.  When Marvin and his friend, whom we had met up with toward the end of our ride, arrived a short while later they had a thirty minute wait for the next batch to finish cooking.

The stall was relatively cool, nestled as it was at the edge of the jungle and next to a small river.  The water made a pleasant roar as it tumbled over the rocks.

We sat with our teh tariks and enjoyed each other’s company and the calm surroundings.  My sense of well-being due no doubt to the two helpings of nasi lemak that I had just devoured.  As I gazed around the stall I noticed a framed newspaper article on the wall titled “Me and My BMI.  Nasi Lemak and the Art of Bicycle Maintenance.”

It turns out that this particular nasi lemak stall is well-known.  The proprietor Haji Ramli Maon and his wife Rosnah Zakaria have been serving one of Malaysia’s favorite breakfast meals to cyclists and non-cyclists alike for more than fifteen years.  A stream of whom had turned up on bikes and in cars as we sat there.

Marvin and his friend got their nasi lemak, piping hot and fragrant, fresh out of the pot.  They agreed it was worth the wait.  Mark, Chon and I had a third packet each.  We couldn’t resist.  Especially when a packet costs only RM 1 / USD 0.33.  My somewwhat excessive breakfast of three packets of nasi lemak and two teh tariks cost the princely sum of RM 6 / USD 2.  I paid the equivalent of fifty nasi lemaks to the guy who came by selling bottles of jungle honey.  If he is to be believed that honey is a miracle cure for most any ailment.  Mark has already tried some of his.  He confirms his thumbs up rating for the honey.

Chon (left) and Mark, jungle honey and teh tariks.

I give the whole morning a thumbs up.  I don’t think this will be the last Mark’s Nasi Lemak Ride.

Ice is Nice

After last weekend’s Broga broiler my biker chick gave me strict instructions.  I was to get a full medical examination before doing any more hot and humid rides.  Which in Kuala Lumpur meant before doing any more rides – period.  Turning 55 was additional incentive, not that I needed it given that my cycling was at risk, to get checked out.

So I spent a few hours being been scanned, prodded, pierced, x-rayed and wired to various machines.  I was declared fully fit so I was able to turn my attention to what rides to do over the coming weekend.  A group from the Racun Cycling Gang and some Cyclistis had signed up for this ride:  a charity ride in support of the Malaysian Aids Foundation.

By the time I got my act together registration for this ride had closed.  Fortunately, or perhaps unfortunately given the weather forecast for the day of the ride, the organisers accepted my entry despite my tardiness.  The ride was 130 km.  There was one water stop, at the 80 km point.  The organisers recommended that riders have two, or better yet, three bottles to get them to the water stop.  I had three bottles on the Broga ride and that hadn’t been enough.  I would have to do some things differently to make it through this ride in better shape that I had been during the Broga ride.

The first thing to do differently this time would be to not let my heart rate shoot past 150 bpm.  The Karvonen formula, which is a more accurate way to calculate your maximum heart rate than the frequently quoted 220 minus your age method, puts my maximum heart rate at 165 bpm.  I suspect that part of my troubles during the Broga ride stemmed from riding at greater than 85% of my maximum heart rate for more than an hour, including hitting 165 bpm at a few points.  In other words I would have to curb my competitive instincts and not chase after faster riders.

The second thing to do differently this time would be to stay as cool as possible.  I should have done this very simple and, in hindsight, obvious thing from my first ride in Malaysia.  I put my three bottles in the freezer overnight.

Farid and I rolled through the start at about 8am.  It was already warm and it was obvious that we were in for a sunny morning.

Bike-X 04

Photo courtesy of Cycling Malaysia Magazine

You can see two frozen bottles in my cages.  The third bottle was in the rear centre pocket of my jersey.  Pouring ice cubes down someone’s back was a high school prank.  Who would have thought that I would volunteer for the equivalent now?  Regular sips of frosty sport drink combined with that lump of ice at the base of my spine kept me lukewarm rather than hot for most of the ride.

Despite taking turns at the front of a group that hit better than 40 kph at times I managed to keep my heart rate in check.  This was helped in large part by the very flat route.  We were riding on the coastal plain to the west of the city, where the only climbing was up highway overpasses.  Much like in both Houston and Den Haag.  We did approach one climb today but just as we got to the foot of the hill we turned to the right and away from it.  I was not disappointed!

Of course there is no avoiding the effects of the heat and humidity completely.  I was dripping in no time at all.  This time I remembered to bring my Sweat GUTR, which I had bought to keep the sweat out of my eyes in the 40° C and higher summer temperatures in Houston.  It still works a treat.

The water stop had been moved to the 59 km point.  I was glad to see it.  I refilled one bottle.  I probably should have topped up my other bottles but I didn’t want to dilute the Nuun sport drink.  I poured some water over my head and the back of my neck.  More to wash the sweat off my face then to cool down.  Once we got moving again it did help to have wet hair and a wet jersey.

The organizers had shortened the ride to 98 km.  I was not disappointed about that either!  By the end of the ride all three of my bottles were empty.  I rolled across the finish line hot and sweaty and in need of fluid.  As you can see there was more  to drink at the finish area.

Photo courtesy of Cycling Malaysia Magazine

It may not look it from the photo above but my strategies to not overheat worked.  The freezer is my new friend.

Going Really Long

To go long or to go short.  That was the decision to be made before every Six Thirty evening ride.  The long route is about 32 km / 20 mi.  The short route is about 20 km / 12 mi.  I cycled to and from West End Bicycles for the rides, which added 13 km / 8 mi to the distance I covered.  Just as I was getting used to the demands of going long it was time for the 2010 Humble Lions Bike Ride.  The Humble Lions Club runs this ride every year as a fundraiser to benefit handicapped and diabetic children.

This was an 89 km / 55 mi ride.  Just a bit longer than I had covered in one ride before.  Ever.

I remember it being quite chilly at the 8:00 am start.  And thinking that the first rest stop came up very quickly at just 11 km / 7 mi into the ride.  I remember riding into a headwind every time the road turned southward between the 25 km / 15.5 mi and the 45 km / 28 mi points.  And being happy to see the rest stop at the end of a 5 km / 3 mi drag along Bohemian Hall Road to the intersection with Farm to Market Road 1942.

Here are some of the Six Thirty folk at that 45th km rest stop.  Tom B. is resplendent in his West End jersey.

Photo courtesy of Rick Ankrum at texbiker.net/blog/

I’m not sure what  Barbara L. and Laura J. are doing.  Pulling their gloves off perhaps, as the sun had taken the chill out of the air.

Photo courtesy of Rick Ankrum at texbiker.net/blog/

We were served hot breakfast tacos at the next rest stop.  I ate two.  It was a further 16 km / 10 mi to the stop at Alexander Deussen Park.  By that point I had ridden 70 km / 43.5 mi.  A new personal distance record.  More importantly, although I was a bit tired I still felt good about being able to finish the ride.  I remember being really thrilled about being able to pull the group along for 2 km right at the end of the ride.  We hit 39 kph / 24 mph before slowing for the final kilometer into the start / finish area in the Humble Civic Center Arena.

89 km / 55 mi.  With the help of my Six Thirty friends I had gone really long.  And I had the t-shirt to prove it.

Photo courtesy of Rick Ankrum at texbiker.org/blog/

A Rite of Passage

I was eager to take my new road bike out onto the streets of Houston for an inaugural ride.  However there was something I had to learn to do before I went out on the road.  My hybrid bike had a pair of these . . .

My new road bike came with a pair of these . . .

Clipless pedals were new to me.  James F. had recommended these Speedplay Zero pedals because they are dual-sided.  That would save me from having to flip the pedals around to the ‘right’ side in order to clip in.  I just had to align the cleats on the bottoms of my Sidi Genius 5-Pro Mega cycling shoes with the pedals and push down.  An audible click would signify that the cleats were locked to the pedals.  Clipping out of the pedals seemed easy enough to do too.  Rotating my heels outward would release the cleats from the pedals.

I practiced using my clipless pedals in the safety of the parking area in my apartment building.  I pushed one foot down on the pedal, heard a click and felt the cleat engage.  I turned the crank to get the bike moving.  I put my other foot on the opposite pedal and pushed down.  Another click and I was clipped in.  As I circled the parking lot I mentally rehearsed the action to release my cleats from my pedals.  Rotate heels outward.  Rotate heels outward.  I unclipped, came to a stop and put my feet on the ground.  Success!  I repeated the process of clipping in and out or my pedals a dozen times.  Each time without mishap.  I was ready for the road.

My apartment building had a multi-story car park.  I was on the third floor.  I clipped in to my pedals and set off.  I successfully negotiated the turns and ramps down to the ground floor.  I rolled through the car park exit and made the right-turn onto Travis Street.  As I approached the intersection with Walker Street the traffic light turned red.  I squeezed my brakes and lifted my right heel.  My cleat did not disengage from the pedal.  Unclipping had gone so well just minutes earlier.  I lifted my right heel again.  My cleat did not disengage.  Why wasn’t this working?  I was two yards from the intersection.  The light was still red.  Panic rose in my chest.  I yanked my heel up.  And toppled over onto the street.  To the amusement of the six or seven people at this bus stop.

Perhaps it was embarrassment that made the lesson stick.  ROTATE your heels, not lift.

Jumping Into the Deep End

With each cheese and potato breakfast taco I thought more and more about getting a road bike.  My hybrid bike with the platform pedals had served me well from the moment I first dipped my toes into cycling.  It had taken me from those early heady days of 20 kilometer rides to keeping up with the Six Thirty group through 55 kilometers.  My fellow riders were suggesting that I join them on organised rides of 80 kilometers and more.  To do that would require a bike more suited to long road rides than my hybrid bike was.  A road bike.  But how to decide on exactly what to get?

I started paying more attention to what my Six Thirty friends were riding.  I took a closer look at the Specialized, Moots, Ibis and Independent Fabrications frames on display at West End Bicycles.  I browsed the Trek and Cannondale websites.  I read online reviews.  The choices boggled the mind.  Carbon, steel, aluminum or titanium frame.  Performance or comfort geometry.  Campagnolo, Shimano or SRAM groupset.  The decisions to be made didn’t stop there.  The options for pedals, handle bars, stems, saddles, seat posts, headsets, wheels, tires and other bits and bobs can and do fill catalogs the size of telephone directories.

As I did my research one thought stayed in my mind.  I had been sold a bike that was too small for me.  Bicycle frames come in a range of sizes.  Unfortunately manufacturers do not use a consistent method to measure the frames that they produce.  So the right sized frame for an individual of a given height and reach is a combination of stand over height, top tube length, seat tube length, seat tube angle, bottom bracket height and some eye of newt.  Throw in riding style and personal preference and the choice of an ‘off-the-rack’ frame often comes down to selecting from a range of two or three sizes.  Which will it be?  The larger frame or the smaller frame?

The more I thought about it the more attractive a custom built frame became.  A made-to-measure frame would solve the fit problem.  Being able to choose the paint design and other elements to make the bike uniquely mine added to the appeal.  A few of the Six Thirty group rode hand-built frames.  A chat with them convinced me.  I would bypass retail and go straight to bespoke.  It was time to go all in and find a frame builder in the area.  The list of exhibitors at the recent 2nd Annual Texas Custom Bicycle Show was a good starting point.  Some builders were immediately eliminated from consideration because they built only Dutch-style city bikes, or worked exclusively in carbon, or had a long waiting list, or were too far away from Houston.  That narrowed the list down to two or three frame builders.  I devoured everything on their websites.  I drooled over their gallery photographs.  And I made a telephone call to each of them.

The Alchemy Bicycle Company builder profile stood out on the Texas Custom Bicycle Show website.  There was something about the tagline “The Passion to Transform” that I liked.  James Flatman answered the telephone when I called Alchemy.  We spoke for more than an hour about where we were from, when James started building frames, the relative merits of various frame-building materials, what I was looking for in a bicycle, what sort of riding I did, and what else I should think about if I wanted to continue down the path to a custom frame.  I had a good feeling about James.  I was impressed that he devoted ninety minutes to a telephone conversation with a speculative contact.

I took James up on his suggestion to visit the Alchemy shop in Austin.  He asked that I bring my hybrid bike so he could see what I had been riding.  ZAZ, my ‘biker chick,’ came with me.  This bicycle was going to be my birthday and Christmas present from her for 2009.  James and I talked bicycles while he took all sorts of measurements.  He made suggestions about what material he would use to build a frame for me.  I tried out groupsets from Campagnolo, Shimano and SRAM.  We talked about components.  We looked at colour combinations.  After three hours in the shop ZAZ and I had made our choices.  Two months later James delivered this.

He made me a steel frame with carbon seat stays and fork.  He built it up with a SRAM Force groupset.  The sharp-eyed amongst you will have noticed the Red crankset.  There was a problem with the Force crankset and James swapped it out for the higher specification Red crankset at no charge.  Easton EA90 SLX wheels, a Chris King headset and bottom bracket, a Ritchey seatpost and handlebars, and a Selle Italia saddle and Speedplay pedals completed the package.  James and I agreed that a sterling silver head badge would look best.  This cool-looking badge is a blend of the old alchemy symbols for silver and gold.

There is one custom touch that makes this bike unique to me.  A Texas star on the seat tube.

I have pedaled almost 11,000 kilometers on this bike.  I don’t think I have to say any more about what a pleasure this bike is to ride.

There have been some changes at Alchemy.  James has left and Alchemy has just moved to Denver, CO.  The company has continued to grow, adding the capability to build frames using proprietary carbon tubes.  If you are in the market for a first-class hand-built bicycle give Alchemy Bicycle Company a call.

Corn Tortillas Please

As my fitness level improved I enjoyed the Six Thirty group rides more and more.  Especially the Sunday morning Ted’s Taco Rides, despite the 7.30 a.m. start time.

The Taco Rides are 55 km / 35 mi or so loops that start from the West End shop on Blossom Street.   The first part of the loop along Studemont Street, White Oak Drive and Hogan Street is reasonably relaxed.  The drag up Elysian Street gets the heart pounding and the breathing gets a bit ragged.  Everything settles down again during the last kilometre to Dona Maria Mexican Café on Navigation Boulevard in the East End.

Photo courtesy of Juan Ramirez

This particular Sunday ride was during a visit to Houston last year.  I took the chance to display the Not Possibles colours outside the Netherlands.

After juice, breakfast tacos and coffee the ride continues along Navigation and right onto West Hedrick Street.  Once the tortillas, eggs and potatoes start to digest the pace picks up through Magnolia Park and Lawndale to MacGregor Park.  The group reforms at the park as riders chat, have a drink and munch on Sports Beans.  Everyone then heads out onto the bike trail that runs along Brays Bayou.  Beechnut Street then carries the riders under Interstate 610 and north of the bayou.  A right turn onto South Rice Avenue signals the start to the last third of the route through Bellaire, West University and River Oaks back to the bike shop.

Have I said I miss those tacos?

. . . Just the Wrong Clothes

As someone once said, there is no such thing as bad weather, just the wrong clothes.

After my plastic bag booties ride the days continued to shorten and the average temperatures fell into the single digits centigrade.  I am a tropical person through and through.  If I was going to ride through the Houston winter I had no choice but to add to my cold-weather wardrobe.  The guys at West End Bicycles equipped me with DeFeet Blaze socks for my eternally cold feet, Endura tights and a jacket for my torso, and Specialised long-fingered gloves.  Icebreaker base layers and a beanie completed my starter winter ensemble.  When below-freezing temperatures arrived I bought a scarf and a balaclava.  This is what kept my head, neck and hands warm.

There were times when I looked more like the Michelin Man than a cyclist.  Dane S took this photo of our Six Thirty group shivering at the start of the 2010 Tour de Houston.  Do you think Skip regretted not wearing a jacket?

By the time I moved to Den Haag my tolerance for cold had improved somewhat.  Even so double socks weren’t enough to keep my toes warm in the constant wind.  So I added a pair of Shimano RW80 Winter Road shoes to my arsenal.  Three of us were wearing RW80s on the Not Possibles Christmas ride last year.  Andrew B’s son on the other hand looks like he spends most of his days in Antarctica.

Where Were You at 2:00 a.m. on November 1st 2009?

I was in front of the George R. Brown Convention Centre in Houston.  Along with about 13,000 other cyclists, many dressed in Halloween costumes and astride bicycles festooned with all manner of coloured lights.  After a couple of months of regular outings with the Six Thirty group I had felt confident enough to sign up for my first organised ride:  The Moonlight Bicycle Ramble.  Confident enough to choose the 20 mile route over the 8 mile option.

I lived 1.6 km from the convention centre.  All I needed was 15 minutes to get to the start line.  At 1:30 a.m. I checked the weather forecast.  It was a chilly 8° C / 47° F.  As the the heat of summer cooled to the crispness of autumn I had added some long-sleeved jerseys to my cycling wardrobe.  Including an orange one which suited the occasion in the absence of a Halloween costume.  A t-shirt under that jersey would keep my upper body relatively comfortable.  I had a hat and gloves to keep my ears and hands warm.  I was still riding in baggy shorts but I wasn’t worried about my knees and calves getting cold.  That left my feet, which are still the first part of my body to get cold when the mercury drops.  My Mizuno Wave Riders had proven that they were not the warmest of shoes.

I had already ended a few evening rides with numb feet.  My shoes had open-weave uppers that let in the cold air almost unimpeded.  I didn’t fancy the prospect of cycling 20 miles that night in those shoes.  The temperatures were sure to drop below the already nippy 8° C.  So I resorted to a trick that I had heard some riders talking about during the evening ride the week before.

I rolled away from the start line with plastic bags taped around my Mizunos.  In the company of wizards, witches, gorillas, bananas, hot dogs and other assorted characters.  I didn’t cut the most stylish figure that night.  But my feet didn’t freeze, even during that last cold stretch along Buffalo Bayou.