Tag Archives: The Not Possibles

Where to Park?

It is time for a breakfast taco, or some apple pie, or a roti canai, or just a breather.  You come to a stop and immediately look around for a way to keep your bike upright.  If you happen to be at the beach in Hoek van Holland in the Netherlands  you could park your bike in one of these racks.  And not have to worry about one of your most cherished possessions toppling over and getting scratched, or worse.

Hoek Van Holland Bicycle Parking

In the absence of a rack you have to make do with a pole or a fence or a curb to lean your bike against.  Usually somewhat nervously because the risk of a gust of wind pushing your bike over is ever present.

Standard Bike Parking

If you are in the midst of an organized ride you can bet your house that all available poles, fence space and curbs are already occupied when you pull into a rest area.  So you can resort to the double bike ‘interlock and lean’ technique as demonstrated below.  This is a relatively secure way of parking two bikes, but it does require careful adjustment if the ground is sloping.  Watching your bike roll into a heap on the ground is entertaining for everyone but you.

Photo courtesy of Azrina Kamarudin

Photo courtesy of Azrina Kamarudin

The alternative, if you are on grass, is to just lay your bike on the ground.  Drive side up of course!

If you are lucky the ride organizers will have provided bike racks.  This one is just a horizontal length of pipe that you hook your saddle or handlebar onto.  Simple and secure.

The Not Possibles have a convenient place outside the Coffee Club to park their bikes.  It was Christmas Eve by the way.

Spots like this where a dozen or more bikes can be parked are hard to find, especially outside cafes and restaurants.  Even more so outside the roti canai and nasi lemak stalls where I have been lately.

Nothing that a bit of creativity won’t solve though.  This was the scene across the road from the roti canai stall in Kundang this morning.

Where to park?  Just ditch it!

Eat to Ride, or Ride to Eat?

I learned the hard way that avoiding the bonk, or going hypoglycemic, on a challenging event, requires that I eat to ride.  Both before and during the ride.  Fortunately I don’t do many rides that require eating on the bike.  An activity that demands enough confidence, or stupidity if the roads are bad, to take your hands off the handlebar, sufficient dexterity to fish around behind your back to find your energy bar or gel or whatever, and gills so that you can continue to breathe while chewing and swallowing.  All the while pedaling so you won’t get dropped.

It is much more fun, civilized even, to ride to eat.  Houston’s West End Bicycles Six Thirty group introduced me to the delightful practice of riding as an excuse to eat.  After our Thursday evening rides we would gather at Jax Grill or Romano’s Pizza to “replenish our glycogen stores.”  I have already written about the mid-ride breakfasts at Dona Maria which give Ted’s Taco Ride its name.  Good company, a bit of exercise, good food and lots of laughter.  What a winning hand!

So it was “hip hip hooray” when I discovered that Den Haag’s the Not Possibles end their Saturday morning rides at the Coffee Club in Leidsenhage.  Appeltaart and the occasional uitsmijter are the foods of choice in Den Haag.  We have been known to linger over a second koffie verkeerd, purely for health reasons of course!

Malaysians live to eat.  That is indisputable.  So naturally every ride here involves eating.  Either mid-ride, or after the ride, or both.  Even the rides that require you to eat to ride, like the Broga 116, end with food of some description provided by the organizers.  The meal of choice for the Racun Cycling Gang and the Cyclistis is often the humble roti canai.  With a teh tarik to wash it down with.

Photo courtesy of Mark Lim

The best roti canai are crispy on the outside and soft on the inside.  Everyone who has ever had one wants another.  And another.  And another.  This was during a ride to Kundang.  Specifically to eat some roti canai at this roadside stall.  Shahfiq is taking an e-break.  I am starting on my second roti.

Photo courtesy of Mark Lim

The eating is only part of the experience.  Watching your roti canai being made is entertaining too.  Which you can do now too, courtesy of this video by Mark Wiens from his blog Migrationology.  As a bonus you will see teh tarik, the quintessential drink to go with your roti, being made.

I’ve been looking through Mark’s blog as I wrote this post.  His write ups and photos are making me hungry.  Good thing there is a ride this evening.  I need an excuse to eat a roti canai or two.

Your Country Very Hot

My biker chick ZAZ and I have moved a number of times from our tropical home to more temperate climes.  Each time we struggled initially with the cold but we did get used to it.  Almost without noticing our increasing tolerance for low temperatures.  Until we got home again.

We have a catchphrase that we use with each other a lot in the first few months back home.  “Your country very hot.”  I shouldn’t be surprised that we have to reacclimatize to the heat and humidity.   It does take a few months before I don’t feel the need to take four or five showers a day.

Yesterday’s ride confirmed that I am not yet used to being back in a hot and humid country.  I was invited to ride the Broga 116.  I had expected to be part of a group ride.  What I hadn’t expected was that I would be part of a highly organized group ride.  A group ride with two SAG support vehicles, three water stops, photographers along the route, lunch at the finish, a t-shirt, and in a first for me at any organized ride, a route ‘tulip‘ sticker for my top tube.

All put together by a cycling club, without commercial sponsorship, for anyone who was willing to pay RM 30 / USD 10 to participate.  At least fifty of us stumped up the cash and were ready to roll from the car park at the Sungai Tekala Recreation area at 7.30 am.
I had three 25 ounce bottles of Nuun-treated water, a layer of sunscreen on every bit of exposed skin, and a cap under my helmet to soak up sweat.  In other words I was unprepared for the heat and humidity.

On previous rides I had noticed that my average pulse rate was 10 to 15 bpm higher than it had been in the Netherlands.  I knew that was because of the higher ambient temperature in Kuala Lumpur.  It was about 28C / 82F with a relative humidity over 80% at the start.  It would get considerably warmer as the sun rose in the sky.  That fact should have been my first warning that I would have a tough day.

Graph courtesy of The National Weather Service at http://www.nws.noaa.gov/om/heat/index.shtml

The second warning came 35 km into the ride, in the form of the first climb of the day.  The Bukit Mandom 1 climb is only 1 km but it has grades of up to 10.2%.  By the time I had crested that climb sweat was dripping onto my top tube and I was already into my second bottle.  The descent at 60 kph plus cooled me off a little but that was scant respite.  After 1 km the road tipped upward again as Bukit Mandom 2 presented itself.  By the time I completed the 1.8 km to the crest of that hill I knew for certain that it would just get tougher as the ride progressed.

As indeed it did.  Bukit Tangga (literally Stairway Hill) was bigger and badder than the previous two hills.  I started cramping in both quadriceps on the lower slopes and had to stop 3 km into the climb to stretch.  If nothing else that gave me the opportunity to take this photo of my fellow cyclists grinding up the hill.

The spasms from heat cramps in my quadriceps were my constant and faithful companion for the rest of the ride.  Whenever the grade kicked up above 6% I had to slow down to below 10 kph.  I found that if I rode in my inner ring /  largest cog combination (why oh why didn’t I have my compact crank?) and maintained a very slow cadence I could continue to pedal without completely cramping up.  The observant among you, dear readers, will have noticed from the route tulip that the planners had saved the biggest climb of the day for the end.  13 km long and a total of 470 meters upwards.  I have never been so glad to to see the back side of a hill.

Nevertheless I took several positives from this ride.  The organisation was excellent.  Which was a very good thing.  The water stops saved me from becoming severely dehydrated.  I had 75 ounces / 2.2 liters of fluid in my bottles at the start of the ride, which turned out to be woefully insufficient.  I picked up at least another 2 liters of water at the stops, along with, pardon the pun, a bunch of bananas.

The views, when I wasn’t staring fixedly at my front wheel so that I wouldn’t have to look up at the never-ending slope ahead of me, were lush and verdant.

I learned that Aesop knew what he was talking about.  My slow and steady 6 to 8 kph up Genting Peres meant that I caught and passed a number of other riders who had started the climb at speed but then had to stop for a breather before the top.  And I finished the ride on my bike and not in a SAG support vehicle.  Not that I am competitive or anything!

Our sea freight had been delivered so I was able to do the ride in my Not Possibles jersey.

Best of all I made new friends, courtesy of Syihan Nik, who invited me to do the Broga 116.  By the way I still haven’t decided if I should thank him or thump him.  Here are Syihan and I early in the day, looking and feeling considerably better than we did at the end.  As you will soon see.

I finished the 114 km soaked in sweat but my cooling mechanism hadn’t coped very well with the conditions.
Despite cold showers and iced drinks my core temperature stayed elevated for the rest of the day.  So there is no doubt about it ZAZ.  Your country very hot.

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.

R R Go Away, Come Again Another Day

The weather had looked threatening all afternoon.  The heavens finally opened in spectacular fashion at 6.30pm.  Thunder, lightning, and lots of water.  This was the view from our hotel room at 7.00pm.  Droplets still running down the window, but the main show was over.

Emails about the weather were a common feature of ride days in Houston.  A number of online weather sites were consulted.  Screen shots of radar images went out.  Six Thirty riders looked out of their office windows and reported about the state of the roads along the ride route.  If the roads were going to be wet at 6.30pm the ride would be canceled.  The Six Thirty group never rode in the wet if it could be avoided.  I remember just one occasion where we got caught in a deluge about halfway through the ride.  Somewhere in the vicinity of the old Masonic Lodge on the corner of Brompton Road and North Braeswood Boulevard.  Whatever the weather there was one constant.  The words “rain” and “wind” were never used.  It was always just R and W.  One of those cyclists’ superstitions.  Which I will disregard for the rest of this post.

The weather featured large in Den Haag too.  Saturday morning Not Possibles rides and all other rides were preceded by a look at various weather forecasts.  The concern was less about the rain though.  It rains much less in Den Haag – 25 cm / 10 in annually than in Houston at 122 cm / 48 in per year.  Plus everyone in the Netherlands seems to be very comfortable with riding in the wet.  We often rode on wet bike paths and in the rain.  A waterproof jacket and SKS Raceblade Long fenders were essential items.

For The Not Possibles it was more about the direction of the wind.  The average windspeed in Den Haag is 28.6 kph / 17.8 mph compared to 13.3 kph / 8.3 mph in Houston.  The decision to be made prior to the start of every ride was which way to head out so that there would be a tail wind on the return leg.  The wind in Den Haag is a fickle beast though.  We had many rides where the wind seemed to be in our faces no matter which heading we were on.  On some particularly windy days we chose to sail along with the wind, spinning at an effortless 50 kph for an hour or more.  Then we would ride the train back home.

The amount of rain in Kuala Lumpur is double that in Houston.  We get 240 cm / 94.5 in a year here.  This evening’s downpour dumped a significant amount of water onto the streets.  Enough water for Albert K to call at 7.15pm to say that the Racun Cycling Gang evening ride had been called off.  The fall during last week’s ride is still fresh in the memory.  That no doubt contributed to the decision to cancel this evening.  I shall have to get used to the R getting in the way of riding here.

Two Degrees of Separation

I had been home for two days.  The jet-lag made it feel like I hadn’t slept in all that time.  The default action would have been to hop on a bike and go for a ride.  If I had had a bike to hop on to.

I had not heard about when my bikes would be delivered.  My Cyclistis friend was travelling on business.  It was starting to look more and more like I would not be riding on the weekend.

The bright spot in the day was dinner with BP alumni friends at Cava.  We are a group of about a dozen who manage to get together once or twice a year for good food and lots of laughter.  A number in the group keep up with my cycling addiction via Facebook.  Alice K mentioned that her brother had been similarly stricken, and that she would send my contact details to him.

I was hardly back at the hotel when Alice’s brother Albert K messaged me.  There was a ride on Sunday.  Was I interested?

Was I ever!  I had to calm myself though.  It would all depend on whether I had possession of my bikes by Saturday evening.  SMSes zipped between us as ride location details and so on were exchanged.  I was invited to join the Racun Cycling Gang group on Facebook.  Natuurlijk!  Especially when I read the group’s ‘About’ statement:

A Cycling Group which always takes care of each other…. no one will be left behind!
We ride not for the best time
But we ride for a good time

That in essence is what I really liked about my previous cycling groups:  West End Bicycles in Houston and The Not Possibles in Den Haag.  That and the fact that we ate breakfast tacos every Sunday in Houston and apple pie at every opportunity in Den Haag.

The final piece fell into place on Friday morning.  Allied Pickfords called to say that our air freight would be delivered the following morning.  Well, in reality the final piece fell into place when the Allied Pickfords guys handed my bikes to me at 10.30am on Saturday.

My first ever road ride in Malaysia was imminent.