No Excuses

It is cold, not even 40F. The roads are slippery from a short, late-night downpour. The rear tire on my bike had gone flat. I am still a bit congested. My ride buddies shun the cold even more than I do; I bet they will stay home.

But, what if they don't? I suggested the route; I should not renege.

I bundled up: wool jersey, fleece-lined tights, serious winter cycling jacket, thick wool socks, booties. The roads will dry. The tire stayed inflated overnight. I tucked an extra package of tissues in my pocket.

Convinced I would end up riding alone, I signed in with the leader. Much to my delight, both ride partners materialized. We were all a bit dazed by the cold; the temperature never reached 50F. If that does not sound uncomfortable to you, you are not factoring in the effect of wind chill: self-generated, with an assist from Mother Nature.

We agreed to follow the most modest route, 35 miles with a mere 795 feet of climbing. My endurance was well-preserved, but my muscles are sore. (My last bike ride was 49 days ago!)

Oh, and about that flat tire. It had a slow leak, and the last time it went soft I was convinced it was punctured. The replacement tube (supplied by a fellow rider) also had a slow leak—a bad patch. Re-inflated, I could not find a leak in my original tube, which seemed willing to hold air again.

Still, there was a lesson to be learned about my tube. Specifically, about the Presta valve on that tube. It has a removable core. The next time I unscrewed the valve cap, the core came with it. [Accompanied by a rather dramatic release of the pressurized contents of the tube.]

The loose core explained the slow leak. Lesson learned: Know your valves. Make it a habit to point that thing at the ground, lest you unleash this pressurized little projectile in a most unfortunate direction.

[Like, your eye. Or, a roadside thicket, never to be found again.]