be still my murmuring heart: a visit to IF

I got the flu about ten days ago, which meant that I got to both amass an arsenal of over-the-counter cough suppressants and other flu medication, and have the honor of being possibly the only person in America losing, rather than gaining, weight on Thanksgiving. And while both some weight and the fever have since been kept at bay, I’ve had a dry, hacking cough that’s lingered. The kind that will wake you up at night like an insatiable significant other, persistent and somewhat predictable, resulting in groggy workdays. The kind that results in somewhat sore abs and a tight back from those nighttime acrobatics. Except, you know, without satisfying happy endings that are implicit in anything involving insatiable significant others.
All of which led me to run to a walk-in clinic where a doctor listened to my heart every which way and then informed me that I just may have a heart murmur.
“Have you experienced any shortness of breath or difficulty breathing during exercise?” The doctor asked.

Images of attempting to climb River Road without “shortness of breath or difficulty breathing” came to mind. The inability to suck enough air into my lungs as I got pulled, dragged, then dropped up and down 9W presented itself.
“Uh, no, not really,” I answered.
Because images of a frame also emerged as I envisioned how I must look, riding up River Road. It was small and cute and welded together by a friend. I had visited the workshop to watch it being put together and even met the guy who was going to do my braze-ons [that sounds so dirty, I know]. And there was no fricking way some goddamn heart murmur was going to keep me off this almost-complete beauty.

Because, like I mentioned before, it’s an IF. The day before I got so pathetically sick that I was living off Tom Yum soup, I had ridden up to Somerville, MA to the IF workshop, with a quick stop by Clear Flour Bread to pick up some treats [their morning buns are pretty phenom]. Bundled up in every bike gear layer I own, it was a quick trip north to a warm workshop where my already-tacked frame sat, being TIG-welded into existence. I got to watch as Tyler worked his magic, explaining the process of using a giant electrical circuit to weld, and the use of air without oxygen in it.

Then I got the grand tour. I got to see the collection of tubes, the jig where tubes become frames, and the chain stay cutting machine [it was really cool]. There was the paint section where the newest green Ti Featherweight sat, waiting for its stripes of black matte paint, as well as an assorted collection of frames waiting for their respective powdercoats. I even got to see the big machine that provides extra pure air to the paint department, as well as IF’s sand and glass blasters.

Along the way, I saw and learned about how braze-ons are brazed on, leaving a glass-like residue, and how Corvids are assembled and the super power glue that holds them together. The IF carbon lugs for the Corvids are made specifically to measure, and not bent or stretched to fit like steel lugs. Even in its raw form, the carbon fiber frame was awesomely impressive. I think my heart murmured when I got to touch it; it didn’t hurt that it felt like air when I lifted it up, either.

There’s actually so much cool stuff and people at the IF workshop that it’s hard to actually delve in and describe everything in one visit [especially when your own custom frame is sitting in the welding department, nearing completion]. I left feeling more excited than when I arrived, and even in the midst of a feverish flu a few days later, I did a mental little dance when Tyler sent me even more pictures.
Yeah, that’s right. Pictures of my brazed and welded IF Crown Jewel. [Potential] Heart murmurs be damned. Ain’t nothin’ gonna keep me off that bike.

if i had an if...

I've mentioned this before, but I think it bears repeating: when you come from a "tribe of midgets" as my mother once described our immediate family to a much-taller cousin, it's hard to find a bike that fits.
Being a smidge over 5'2", I'm too tall for the 43cm bikes that come with 650cc wheels but too small for anything on 700cc wheels with a horizontal top tube. In that gray, in-between area, I'm placed in the unfortunate position of choosing between the two. Add to that the fact that I'm a woman, new to road cycling, and Japanese, and the decisions to be made when purchasing that just-right road bike can get more frustrating than fun.
Sure, a lot of bike manufacturers now have entire lines of women's specific bikes, in sizes starting from 44 to 49cm, usually designed with slighter shorter top tubes and seat tubes than their unisex counterparts. The woman that these bikes are generally designed for is one with longer legs and a shorter torso than her male counterparts; valid considerations for your typical non-Asian cyclist. But if you have shorter legs and a longer torso like I do [think E.T. but with normal length arms], going for a unisex, smaller frame could provide the better fit.

The problem then becomes finding a bike that's small enough, made from the material you want it to be made from, and, if you're as unreasonable as I am, in colors that you can tolerate [personally, this tolerance is inversely and exponentially related to the cost of the frame or bicycle]. The first two considerations are obviously the more important ones, and ones that required the most leg work because while I'd ridden steel and aluminum, neither bike had gears, nor involved rides longer than 40 miles. I didn't know what carbon felt like, what aluminum with a carbon back triangle felt like, or how smooth high-end steel can be. I called a dozen bike shops about road bikes they might have in my size, I rode a bunch around the block, rode a few a little longer than that, asked an endless train of questions, tried Sram, re-tried Campy, and ended up trusting my countrymen in deciding that I liked the ubiquitous yet reliable Shimano, best.
Now that I got the shifting down, I just needed a bike.
You'd think finding a smaller road bike with Shimano wouldn't be so hard. You'd think that, wouldn't you? Especially with all the women's options out there?
Except for...well, a lot of things. Back in May, Andrew had measured my height [this is when I discovered I was more 5'2 than 5'3], had me wedge this wooden L-shaped ruler between my legs to measure standover height, and hold the end of the tape measure where my collarbones meet. I stood around the small stage at the back of NYC Velo in my socks [we had to measure my height without shoes on, which is more accurate and close to reality but which I also think is fundamentally unfair], and was asked questions about my weight, the kind of riding I do, and the kind of riding I would want to do with a road bike. Andrew sent the deets to IF a few days later, and a few days after that I got to see a custom frame spec'd to my measurements, and about two weeks after that, I balked.

I'll admit that it wasn't just the impending bar exam that got in the way. There was sticker shock, too. The realization that I was going to put down kind of a lot of money for a custom frame and fork scared me. I had never ridden an IF at that point, and the chances of me finding one close enough to my size were slim to none. In the face of the unknown, [at least I could ride, say, a Felt ZW5] I couldn't commit.
But a few months post-bar, there was a sparkly green demo 47cm Independent Fabrication Steel Crown Jewel built up with Dura Ace hanging from the ceiling of the shop. Offered for a test ride, I took it up River Road and back and, unfortunately, fell in love. I tried to tell myself it was the Dura Ace that made the ride so smooth, that it was entirely in my head that the steel bike felt light, and that I should seriously consider carbon. But there was something about the way everything worked together, how the frame complemented its parts and the entire thing seemed to want to roll out and keep on going. As a complete derailleur novice, the versatility of the Crown Jewel appealed to me as well: it could be raced, ridden for hours on end, or taken out for quick spins. There was a lot of potential in that frame, but most importantly, despite the fact that it was too big for me, it felt really good.

The toe I dipped in the welcoming warmth of the IF pool was the end of my deliberating. I didn't admit it to myself for another few weeks, but once I had ridden that IF, the bikes I test-rode seemed...not that great in comparison. Still, I wanted to be 100% sure. I emailed Kevin at IF too many times, asking too many really long-winded questions, and every single time, he seemed more than happy to explain things and even offered to take a look at my current bike fit via photos. He said something like, "I understand this is big decision," and I wanted to hug him. I gave the okay a few weeks later.
And now here we are. It's been about 4 weeks, and with an approximate turn around time of 6-8 weeks, my bike is on the horizon. Actually, it's already been "born," so to speak, and the sheer thought of having an IF all to myself has me giggling like a 13 year old with a crush. I can't wait. It's going to be awesome.
More updates coming [very, very] soon!

i'm a loaner, dottie, a rebel

A friend once told me that I reminded him of Pee Wee Herman, “but in a good way.” I’m still struggling to figure that out; whether it was some sort of compliment, whether he meant that it was clear I was in line to inspire some limited edition dunks, or whether it was an honestly blurted out sentence followed by damage control. That was over a year ago, and I remain, as ever, completely confused.
He didn’t know then, and neither did I, that I would be dreaming of a red and white bicycle within the next few months. A steel IF Crown Jewel, in fact; mostly red [like Pee Wee’s], with a dash of white, maybe a touch of black. Classic colors because I hear that custom frames, like wedding bands, are mostly forever.

And like ideal husbands, in my mind, the Crown Jewel was smooth and perfect; like so perfect that I would never want to ride anything else and everything else would feel unnecessarily harsh due to its shoddy craftsmanship. Nothing, even a carbon fiber bike made by 8 year old South Asian children carefully selected by Pinarello for their dexterity, would ever compare. It would accelerate at the flexing of a muscle and would take me to far off places like Belgium, France, the Netherlands, and even Tokyo. We would be together, forever, and it would be the only bike I’ll need for the rest of my life. Sure, there might be something carbon in the later years of my life when my mid-life crisis hit, but out of a burning building, I would only grab the IF. In fact, in my imagination, I would even run into said burning building to carry out the IF: pristine and sparkling, ever ready to sweep me off my cleated feet, albeit with some melted tires.
All of which was sort of silly and purely the stuff of dreams because I had never ridden an IF before. Actually, my rides have been limited to one steel Bianchi single-speed which feels like it was made from water pipes, one aluminum track bike, and one handmade aluminum Cyfac that’s too big for me but has Campy Record on it. So, yes, I based my dreams on the opinions of friends who either work at IF, have IFs or who have ridden an IF. Great sample pool, I know.
But as luck would have it, last week, a green Crown Jewel arrived at NYC Velo. A demo bike for a potential IF buyer and built up with Dura-Ace. With a 47cm seat tube and 51 top tube, it was a touch too big, but something I could get my leg over, and when offered for a road ride upstate, I immediately accepted. I may have asked my customary, “really?” but it was with the intense hope that yes, really, I could take this out for more than just a spin around the block.

Late Friday morning, pedals screwed on, saddle switched out, and appropriately dressed, I headed out with Mike up 9W, the goal being the Palisades Market, maybe Piermont if we felt like it. It was little-ring-sitting-in riding for me; maybe taking it a little too easy but paranoid about hurting my leg so soon after getting back on the bike. The rear gear got switched up and down, up and down, Shimano apparently making more sense to me than all that Italian stuff that requires opposable thumbs. The bike, though obviously heavier than carbon fiber, was nothing like the steel I’m used to; it’s solid but doesn’t feel like there’s a dead body attached to your rear wheel. There was no conscious realization that it was steel or that extra effort was required to ride it. Light enough on the flats and secure on the descents, with gears that didn’t question my constant shifting, it was a lot of bike.
But it was a lot of fun bike, which was new and different, too. There wasn’t the terror of not being able to stop [I’ve given up on halting the track bike, quite honestly] but that’s not to say it’s a slow ride. Even in the little ring, with legs that have almost forgotten how to pedal, it required only a little pushing to kick up the speed to 22mph. And with no need to worry about how to slow down, it fed a desire to go faster and longer and up and over bigger and bigger hills. It got me to the Palisades Market without killing my knees or legs or lungs or heart. And I had it going even faster on the way back [although, yeah, that tailwind helped out, too].

It was over all too soon, and I almost didn’t want to return it. Actually that’s a lie. I didn’t want to return it, period. I wanted to ride it again the next day, and the next day, and the day after that. It didn’t even fit, which was the weird thing; I’d never felt such an attachment to something that was obviously less than perfect, that didn’t quite conform into my mental image of how things should be. It was clearly too big, but here I was, finding it difficult to say goodbye to something whose purpose was to fulfill a temporary curiosity; a loaner.

A few days later, I heard that little bike had changed. Narrower bars, shorter stem, the works:
“It’s different, now. You should try riding it again, next time you’re in town.”
Me and that little green loaner? That rebel?
Oh, I’ll be on it again, luck permitting. We’ve got some big adventures to live.

adjustments...financial and otherwise

“I think my hamstring’s done for the season,” I said.
“The season hasn’t even started,” Mike responded.
“Exactly.”
Yeah, I’ve complained about it a lot. It’s still weirdly tight and uncomfortable, one main reason I try to walk around everywhere after I get off the bike for the day. I’ve stretched it in all different directions with no relief, so now, I just deal with it. Worst case scenario, it’ll heal up in July when I’m losing my shit over taking the bar.
But sometimes an optimist, I figured I’ll look into a little more. Good thing I love the internet, Google, and unreliable sources of information. A search for “cycling behind knee calf pain” [I’m fluent in Google Search Specific Broken English] came up with some archived Bike Forums posts, most of which advised sliding back the cleat to avoid loading too much on the affected calf.

I’ll try anything. And holy shit, it mostly worked...!
My first ride on the Bianchi after about 5 days away and it was almost easy...mainly because my calf wasn’t getting that weirdly bothersome twingey feeling. The outside of my calves weren’t sore within the first 10 miles, and while it wasn’t a cure-all by any means, it was way more comfortable. Who knew? [Everyone, right?]

Okay, yeah, getting gears would probably help immensely, but let’s put that aside for now while I try to figure out a way to finagle my way into getting one with all the money I don’t have. I’ve come up with a few ideas, though. First, wear and advertise Gage & Desoto stuff in an attempt to bolster Mike’s income to the point where he’ll be like “wow, you did all this free marketing and advertising for me...here’s $3k to blow on a bike!”

The next prong of attack is cassette, which I’ve been slacking on. At this point, we might be looking at new stuff for the fall [hey, I don’t get to have fun in June and July, okay? I get to stress out/cry/hyperventilate over two bar exams], but it’s going to be pretty sick when I’m done with this. Some familiar themes and designs will be present [obviously], but it’ll be different. And that’s all I’m going to say for now [muahahaha!].
And now it’s back to work...but oh, a bike ride first, of course. Have a great weekend, guys!

bike 'stache

There's nothing like being in one of the world's largest cities, back near friends and the only family that lives stateside...and being confined to a bed because you're burning up with a fever.
Exciting, right?
Actually, even for a domestic homebody like myself, it really wasn't. Multitasking was out of the question; as was getting out of bed. But, it gave me the perfect excuse to clean up some unfinished business. And I don't just mean watching Half-Ton Dad, Half-Ton Teen, and Half-Ton Teen, Part 2: Survival of the Half-Ton Teen.
I mean the unfinished business that had me leaving the bike at home, and toting a suitcase down to NYC instead. The unfinished business that I finally got around to after my fever subsided [after I got that whole "sleep" thing out of the way] yesterday, stuffed in a bag, and delivered to some awesome friends. Late handmade Christmas presents crafted from my little fingers and transported across the globe from Tokyo to NYC.

The popularity of collars and merino items might have had something to do with my choice of what knitted gift to give to my cyclist friends this season, as well as the popularity of facial hair this time of year. Inspired by the Incognito pattern available on Knitty, I chose merino wool yarn instead of alpaca [I couldn't get the yarn listed on the pattern in Tokyo], and changed the gauge accordingly [for the knitters, the more complicated "tangy" version of this pattern is well worth the extra little effort]. The mustaches also got modified [how could I not design a crazy long, curly 'stache for Brett?], and Andy's got the royal "NYC Velo" customization.

Too bad when I managed to make it outside and to the shop yesterday, bag full of cookies, rice crackers, and mustached collars, half the recipients of the collars were already wearing their own homegrown 'staches. It was still cold enough to have them excited about the gifts, though, and tomorrow looks freezing enough to force them to wear it [muahahahaha!].
Unfortunately, I'll be leaving this fair city tomorrow, and with two days eaten away by a fever, I feel a little cheated. Still, I have a full 24 hours left here with my favorite people. And that's a good thing, too, because...well...I haven't quite finished all my unfinished business. There's a collar still on deck [needles?] for Mike, and with a promise of a picture of Andy, Brett, Justin, and Mike with their fake 'staches, there's motivation to get that thing done by the time I board a bus tomorrow afternoon.

Besides, with no bike around, recorded episodes of Law & Order, Intervention, and Hoarders, plus expectations of snow later today, what else I should be doing than sitting on a couch sipping coffee, and looping that yarn around two needles?

vegan training wheels

"What is it with you and food?" a friend once jokingly asked.
He was referring to my choice of legal note topics for my journal; last fall I wrote about the Southern Bluefin Tuna Cases, in the spring about the regulation of geographic indicators of food in the European Union [publication forthcoming, spring 2010...eeepp!!!]. I learned about cases revolving around cheese and how overfishing is screwing up the entire ecosystem. The latter supplemented by my environmental law class really pulled at heartstrings. We're killing the planet, was the general message, do something!
The thing is, while I may have enough ethics to pass the MPRE, and while I may prefer the company of small, furry animals to most human beings, I am fully comfortable with grilling anything I am comfortable killing. I've gutted fish in front of friends without batting an eye, only realizing later what a grotesque sight that must have been. I like to think that I would be capable of killing a chicken if I had to. Pigs and cows, probably not.

That begs the question: why? Why set down some arbitrary dietary rules for myself? Why fried chicken and no bacon?
To be honest, I'm not sure. It started with watching what I was eating so I wouldn't gain 50 pounds over the winter. That turned into cutting out 90% of processed food from my diet. And that has suddenly morphed into the beginnings of veganism.
The worst part? It's easy to stop buying processed food, but it's infuriatingly frustrating when you're expected to explain exactly why. Simply pulling out a ziplock bag full of baby carrots or grapes will elicit the self conscious "I should eat healthier, too," when I had no intention of making a judgment call on what my friends are eating. Then there are those who express concern bordering on anger over what I'm eating. When I try to brush off questions with the power-to-weight ratio argument, I've been met with the vehement [predictably, from girls] "will you STOP trying to lose weight?!"

Food, apparently, has a weird control over us. It's like my bag of veggies, or the fact that I eat mini-meals throughout the day triggers feelings of dietary self-consciousness in others. The annoying part being that I have no intent to do this...I have no ethical agenda or desire to educate. I just want to eat my food.
Ironically, as the more common "cycling/power-to-weight ratio" argument fails, it seems as if the more extreme "I'm vegan" justification is easier. The stereotype of the slightly crazed ethical vegan seems so intense that people will consciously choose not to ask about it because they want to avoid a lecture on environmental sustainability. Cycling - and the manorexia that's associated with it - is apparently too normal to avoid prying questions.
The strange thing being that my cycling friends don't tend to ask those weird questions. When I expressed surprise at finding out that Brett was vegetarian, he looked at me with an air of mock disdain, and asked me if people still ate meat. When I told M1 I was going vegan - or at least trying - and that I wanted to make my own soy yogurt, he gamely asked if I was going to start growing mung beans on my walls next. Small wonder I love those guys.

So I'm trying out this whole vegan thing. Just for a few days. Milk and dairy aren't a huge problem because my fragile Asian constitution [read: lactose intolerance] can't take more than 3 tablespoons of the stuff anyway; but cutting out eggs and honey was proving pretty painful. Then Amazon came to the rescue with my copy of Anna Thomas's Love Soup. The recipes are all vegetarian, but more than half of them are vegan, too. So to power me through a few finals, I cooked up a big batch of her Red Lentil and Squash Soup. Except I used brown lentils instead of red, forgot to buy ginger, and omitted the red pepper, and added leeks.
Yeah, there's something about me and food.
Vegan Training Wheels Lentil and Squash Soup Adapted from Love Soup
[I understand the results aren't very photogenic, but I imagine this soup is gorgeous if made with red lentils instead of brown. Regardless of how it looks, it's hearty and thick and sweet without being cloying. I'm already looking forward to dinner for the next few days...]
Serves 6-8
Ingredients: 1 cup red lentils 1 tsp sea salt 1 small butternut squash 1 medium onion, chopped 1 large leek, white and light green parts only, chopped 1 medium sweet potato, peeled and diced 1 tsp ground cumin 1/2 tsp red pepper flakes [optional, I didn't use them] 4-5 cups vegetable broth 1 1/2 cups spinach, fresh or frozen 1/2 lemon
Directions: 1. Preheat the oven to 375F. 2. Line a baking sheet with aluminum foil and brush it with olive oil. 3. Cut the squash in half, seed it, and place cut side down on the baking sheet. Roast for 30-45 minutes, until it can be easily pierced with a fork 4. Meanwhile, rinse the lentils and put them in a pot with 4 cups of water and 1 tsp salt. Bring to a boil, then simmer, covered, for 20 minutes [30 if you're using brown lentils]. 5. Heat a tablespoon of olive oil in a pan and saute the onions slowly, until they begin to soften [Anna Thomas says 10 minutes, I did it in about 5]. Add the leeks and continue to cook until they are turning soft and golden brown [Anna Thomas says about 20-30 minutes; I probably did it in 10-15]. 6. When the lentils are tender, add the onions and leeks, sweet potato, cumin, red pepper flakes [if using] and 4 cups of vegetable broth. Simmer for 25 minutes. 7. Once the squash is done, scoop out 2 1/2 cups of the flesh and add it to the soup. Cook until everything is heated through and add more broth if the soup is too thick. 8. Add the spinach and cover, until spinach is wilted or thawed [if using frozen, just throwing them in is fine, you don't have to thaw them beforehand]. 9. Stir in the lemon juice and season with salt if necessary. Devour.