nyc...on velo

Admittedly, NYC feels a little unfamiliar on bike.
Being lazy, I've always been a big fan of the swelteringly hot, muggy subway, whose stations always smell like a public restroom that's been attempted to be cleaned - unsuccessfully - with some industrial strength bleach. On previous visits, I learned how to appreciate that blast of sticky air that clutches you in its uncomfortably warm embrace as you slide your Metrocard through the ticket gate. The NYC subway might not smell like roses, but it was convenient. Especially compared to Boston.
But on bike, I'm almost longing for Boston. NYC looks almost unrecognizable above the underground subway. And clutching onto my brakes, trying to stay constantly alert for a door, a pedestrian, a taxi intent on cutting me off, I'm desperately trying not to get lost. Armed only with a cellphone and pieces of paper with scribbled street names [my sister doesn't have a printer], I started to understand the disadvantages of always flying solo.
Sucking down liquid courage in the form of one of NYC's best lattes from Jack's Stir Brewed Coffee, I made my way uptown after a morning of intense fabric shopping to perfect a skill I've been honing for the past year or so, but in a new city. And in a new shop.

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NYC Velo to be exact. I'd heard it was an awesome shop, from both my sister [who bought her bike here], and a few other reliable sources. I had to check it out. Besides, this was the perfect opportunity to sharpen my "hanging out at bike shops for unnecessarily long periods of time and refusing to leave" skills.
For the record, I wasn't expecting to achieve IBC levels of loitering. This is an unfamiliar shop, in a kind-of unfamiliar city. I didn't even have a wingman to aid in eating up the shop's minutes, much less one to hold my hand and guide me through the city. NYC might be a grid, but the people definitely make this city unpredictable.
Adrenaline still pumping from the ride there, I was sweaty and frazzled when I walked into the shop. But once I did, I finally managed to exhale. And inhale. Bicycles. Ahhhhh.

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Not just bicycles, but bike parts, shoes, and most impressively, lots and lots of bike clothes. There were baskets of gloves, hangers full of kits, and shelves of t-shirts. It's like a concept store but with legitimate substance behind it; it's not a fixster shop where it's only about what everything looks like. NYC Velo's the serious yet stylish cyclist; one who knows bicycles and likes to shower regularly. But one that's far from pretentious.
I went into the shop fairly confident that this shop was going to live up to its reputation. And it did. I didn't expect to leave, though, feeling comfortable. And in a way, not so lost.
On the way home, scrolling through my recent call history on my phone, IBC showed up on my screen [yeah, I almost have that shop on speed dial]. If I lived here, though, I'm pretty sure that NYC Velo will definitely have that special place in my phonebook.

kiki's delivery service

This movie is a must see.
Though less spectacular than "Nausicaa of the Valley of the Wind" or "Castle in the Sky," "Kiki's Delivery Service" [the original Japanese title is "The Witch's Delivery Service"] has always been a secret favorite. A story about a witch that leaves her home to discover independence and make it on her own [with the most adorable black cat], she befriends a boy who rides a fixed gear and dreams of flying.
Small wonder I love the movie. But it gets even better. Kiki starts working as a courier [on her broom, of course] for a bakery, delivering cakes, bread, and all manner of baked goodies. She ends up losing her ability to fly at one point, though, due to her own self-doubt and insecurity.
I was definitely channeling Kiki yesterday. All I was missing, really, was a big, red bow in my hair [I even have her bangs now!]. Getting up way too early to find a still-sore knee, I still trotted out the show pony for the Bay State Bike Week ride to City Hall. And then, having gotten up at the asscrack of dawn, I stopped by 2nd Cup Cafe to guzzle an espresso.

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Which meant the prospect of a nap then was out of the question. So I sat around restlessly, encountering writer's block here and there, until, spotting a particular poster in my room, I remembered a promise for blueberry muffins.
Erich had put aside the Embrocation Cycling Journal poster taped up at IBC for me, way back in March. It's May. This was one promise I could bust out in a few hours.

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I got mixing and measuring. Ran out of sugar but made do [they didn't come out super sweet, but Dan M. described them as "delicious"]. Did laps between my computer and the oven as they baked; and after they cooled, they went into a box, which was then tucked into my bag. I forgot the red bow in my hair, but I delivered [to IBC].
There was a new chainring waiting for me too. And a new chain. And thus, a straight chain line [for once!]. There was even talk of training for 'cross season and jogging. On the way home, I contemplated how I would handle coming in DFL on my first 'cross race. Uncharacteristically, I think in a way I wouldn't care [as long as I didn't break anything in the process].
I figure, as long as I'm fast enough to deliver baked goods, that's good enough for me.
Kiki's Blueberry Muffins Adapted from this recipe.
For the streusel topping:
1 tablespoon cold unsalted butter 1/3 cup brown sugar 1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon 1/2 cup finely chopped walnuts
1. In a bowl, combine all of the streusel topping ingredients. 2. With your fingers, mix until you have a crumbly mixture. 3. Set aside if using immediately or store in the refrigerator.
For the muffins:
1/2 cup vegetable oil [or 1/4 cup oil and 1/4 cup applesauce] 1-1/3 cup packed brown sugar [I only used 1 cup] 1 tablespoon grated lemon zest 1 egg 2 teaspoons pure vanilla extract 1 cup low fat plain yogurt 2-1/4 cups all-purpose flour 1/4 teaspoon salt 2-1/2 teaspoons baking powder 1/2 teaspoon baking soda 1/4 teaspoon ground cinnamon 1-1/2 cups blueberries [fresh or frozen]
1. Preheat the oven to 400F and line a 12-cup muffin tin with paper liners. If you don’t have paper liners butter and flour the muffin tin. 2. In a bowl, mix together the flour, salt, baking powder, baking soda, and cinnamon. 3. In another bowl, combine the oil, brown sugar, zest and egg. Once combined, stir in the buttermilk and vanilla extract. 4. Add the wet ingredients to the dry ingredients and mix well. Gently mix in the fruit. If the batter seems to liquidy, add a tiny bit more flour. The batter should be fairly stiff. 5. Spoon the batter into the muffin cups filling them right to the top. Divide the streusel topping equally among the muffins. 6. Bake for 15 minutes and then lower the temperature to 350 F and bake for an additional 12 minutes, or until a toothpick comes out clean. 7. Cool the muffins in the pan for 10 minutes, then remove the muffins and let cool on a wire rack. 8. Package securely and deliver [to your local bike shop].

lucky charms

I'm sort of drowning in them. I keep finding them here and there, scattered in odd corners of my apartment.
No, I'm not talking about the cereal.
I understand I may be burned at the stake, but it's not exactly my favorite cereal [it would take a life-changing event to wrench Life from that special place in my heart]. I'm not sure I've actually ever bought a box of it for myself. I'm talking about the charms my Mom's been sending me because she's terrified I'm going to kill myself on my bike.
I attached a commuter-safety-specific one to my bike last winter and lost it two weeks later when, my cross tires clogged with snow, I took a digger on Mass Ave. I guess it worked because I only ended up sliding down the road on my ass, and my knees stayed intact. And while I keep forgetting to ask for another commuter one, my parents are sending them in all shapes and sizes.

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To be fair, I've managed to avoid anything involving blood since I've had one on my bag. But with all these choices, I haven't decided which to attach to my saddle. And seized with that indecision, I've chosen to sort of favor the cereal over the small pretty charms.
No, I'm not stuffing my face with Lucky Charms. I do know people who will eat it by the handful, though, savoring those dry, sugary marshmallow lumps. The same people who feel strongly enough about it that they'll get in arguments over the merits of Lucky Charms over Cinnamon Toast Crunch and, if I'm involved, Life.

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Maybe it's that fanatical devotion to the packaged cereal that appealed to me. Okay, granted, the picture of Chris on Facebook with this exact jersey on pretty much sold me. When I grabbed it off the sale rack at IBC, Marcus gushed that it had been waiting for the right person to buy it. Well, here I am.
Yes, correct, I rock this. It makes me look absolutely ridiculous. Or just 10 years old. Either way, it's currently my favorite thing to sweat in. It's also the first thing I'm slipping into when I get back from school tomorrow. And oh, will I be sweating.

pedal, interrupted

Not enough sleep. Not enough motivation. My two persistent problems this week.
Last night I blocked off time slots for studying. 8am to noon on Saturday is for Con Law, Tax, and Evidence. 12.30 to 5pm for outlining, reviewing, etc., etc., etc. It felt organized and good; at least it looked good on Google calendar. The unorganized mess is actually executing said plan.
And said plan is already being derailed. I woke up this morning and couldn't wait until 4.30pm - because when it's this warm out, I'm definitely leaving the library early, taking the long way home, and stopping at a few bike shops along the way.

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I even had a post planned - well, half planned - about how gorgeous it is outside today and the fact that my gigantor thighs are no longer wrapped in Underarmour. I was then going to go on and say boring and mundane things about spring and how everyone should go out there and ride their bikes. Yeah, notice how I said "half planned." I am emphasizing the "half" here.
So with this weakly formulated post, I figured I'll try to boost interesting-ness with good pictures. Something nature-y, so people see that Boston actually has seasons other than "bitterly cold winters." Something that doesn't consist of the shots of Comm Ave that I love to take. Somethi-

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W. T. F.
I screeched to a halt, just managing to wrench a foot out of my clips as I fumbled for the camera conveniently nestled in my pocket. With one foot still clipped in, I hopped/dragged my bike closer, zooming in on the turkey that decided to show up in the bougie streets of Newton. Seriously? I mean, I know this happens, but it's 8.30am and this is Comm Ave...! I almost reached out to tug the sleeve of an invisible friend and finding none, was left to sort of look around in amazement.
So, yes, I saw a wild turkey this morning. That means that, at the very least, it's going to be a good day [but with bike shops involved, how could it not be?]. It also means that everyone racing Battenkill tomorrow is going to have an awesomely good time.
Good luck, guys - I'll be there in spirit, eating a turkey drumstick!

sweet and salty

Until about a week ago, my friends [other than my IBC crew, obviously] who got to see progress pictures of my bike would constantly ask me when it was going to be done. It was more out of politeness on my friends' part though, as most of them don't ride bikes; and it's a too-easy topic of discussion that'll make me blatantly happy. A friend put it bluntly:
"Your face just lights up when you talk about that bike. Like what normal girls do when they talk about shoes."
I was sort of glad, though, that my lack of funds and thus, parts, was slowing down the whole process. It was still legitimately cold out when I bought the frame [in mid-February], and the days of alternating snow and icy rain kept me from wanting to jump on that bike ASAP.

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Late nights in the library and a lack of lights for the Dolan are keeping me from riding it to school this week. But as I chased down a guy on a fixed gear this morning - white bike, spandex, some awesome kicks, and thighs that looked like tree trunks - I noticed something that made me smile.
Gasping for air as I attempted to keep pace with the fixed guy, I wasn't tasting salt anymore. That's become my barometer for full-on-New-England-okay-I've-had-enough-can-we-have-some-warmer-weather-now? winters. When my tires stop kicking up an invisible layer of salt dust grime, it's officially spring. No more snow or ice. No more getting stuck behind those salt trucks just as they start scattering the stuff [which resulted in an inadvertent facial exfoliation via rock salt]. No more white flakes of dried saltwater peeling off my bike.

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I understand it's fairly disgusting to actually know that the aforementioned salt dust grime is going into my mouth. That's not to say that getting a taste of cycling is always salty, though. Because bike shops will always feed you, and when it's finally spring, Easter M&M cookies become not only muscle fuel, but also sweet promises of summer.
I'm already getting hungry [again].
[Thank you Bud and Mrs. Barry for the delicious cookies!!!]

freewheel fun

Almost exactly six months ago, I was still freewheeling it on the Bianchi. I bought into the hype and was consequently terrified of going fixed; hence I was stuck in that gray area of the freewheel where I almost got scene points until I started coasting. The resulting inferiority complex really killed me.
Ironically, I flipped my wheel over last October not because I wanted to belong to a "scene," but because I stopped convincing myself that I wasn't good/cool/skilled enough to go fixed. Fuck the "scene," fuck the trendiness, fuck my scarred up knees - it couldn't be that hard. And, honestly, it was stupidly easy. I even stopped crashing every month.

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Six months later, I'm back on the freewheel...and I'm quickly developing a new appreciation for it. Having officially gone clipless, I figured I'll minimize the chances of crashing [I don't really miss it] by getting used to the whole clipping in and out thing on cranks that don't always have to move with your rear wheel. I struggled with it both on a trainer and in the parking lot behind IBC but managed to clip in, not crash into an SUV, and get out on the street.
In the middle of traffic, I belatedly realized that I wasn't fixed anymore. I tried to slow down by stopping my feet and nothing happened. I was still moving. And I was headed straight into the back of a stopped car.
My sluggish brain finally pooped out a memory of Erich, a mere 10 minutes ago, saying, "oh yeah, you have brakes. Use them." Brakes! Shit! Use them now! I managed to slide up next to the stopped car, slowing down, then accelerating again as I jerked my knees up and down like a wind-up toy soldier until I figured out that I needed to clip out to stop because my feet were attached to my pedals.

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It took about a good half hour but I finally got the feel of a freewheel again. There's more planning involved, now that I don't have my feet to slow down with, and going really slowly is actually really hard. On my evening ride last night, I felt faster though; and while hills are sort of a bitch, coasting through turns is so much fun.
This might be cheating, but I'm almost tempted to keep that freewheel on for that century...