Just Another Rolling Hill

At 50 miles-per-hour objects move into, and out of, your sight relatively quickly.  When we were in Driver's education courses - en route to getting that ticket to freedom called a License - the instructors taught us to look "10 seconds ahead".  That is to say, identify, classify, and follow an object 10 seconds before it gets to you.  Most of us, now by a developed automaticity, do this type of tracking unconsciously while we drive our cars up and down our streets and highways.

If you have ever been driving at 50 mph, or faster, and stuck your hand out the side window, you have felt the resistance that air puts against your body and car (usually thought of as a wind).  But, what if you were going 50 mph and you didn't have a windshield?  Or a roof?  You may have a sweet 1930-ish era convertible coupe (how sweet!). What if you didn't have doors? Or four wheels - you only had two? 

What would it feel like to move at 50+ mph downhill on something that weighed less than 20lbs. Had no internal-combustion engine. Had tires that were only 1-inch wide. Was piloted by your two-hands. And Powered by your 'Chevrolegs'?

A Pure, un-adulterated, adrenaline-fueled, dopamine-releasing, ear-to-ear-grin forming, Rush! 

While trying to recover from a shoulder complication, I have been spending ample time on my road bike (Yes! I wear the silly clothes, get over it!). A few rides ago, I ventured down the road from my home into San Pedro, and then up into Rolling Hills. It was around 6:30am (a late start) when I rolled out onto the street. Along the way I crossed paths with a small group of cyclists who were just finshing their jaunt around the peninsula (like I said, a late start). I jumped into their ranks for about a mile, or so, on PV Drive North, before peeling off on a hard left up - and I mean UP - Silver Spur.

There were no big gears being grinded. Instead, my little baby-boy gears spun round like an amphetamined-ferris wheel. Not to be cut short of my downhill section-to-come, I continued on and pulled a right-hand turn to head up Crenshaw Blvd. The construction crews worked with melodic rhythm and efficiency - undaunted by the cool bite lingering in the morning air.  My side of the road was unsurprisingly empty, while the roadway streaming out of the hills seamed to have a constant user.

At the top of Crenshaw you are greeted with an awe-inspiring view of the Pacific Ocean - Santa Catalina Island just slightly to the left, and all of Santa Monica Bay to the right.  Turn around to think about starting back down the hill and you are greeted by a view that - even on a hazy day inspires thought and wonder as to how large Los Angeles is.  This morning was clear. Clear enough to read the "Hollywood" sign without squinting, while the Pacific's blue-green hue, and the snow caps of Big Bear, frame in the bulk of LA.

After a few minutes of rest, some nutrition and hydration, it was time.  I adjusted my helmet, checked my glasses, clipped in, and pushed off. The first rolling hills give you wonder as to how uninterrupted or rolling the rest of the hill will be - but you are soon greeted with a downhill grade that immediately propels you into higher speeds. Time for big gears. Not necessary. Within 30 seconds of pedalling the bike was already pushing 45mph, and my legs strained to keep up with spin of the pedals. Time to tuck-in.

Into the drops I went (the drops are the lower part of the handlebars, you know, the part that when you see them you say, "gee i hope that guy didn't pay full price, that handlebar's bent on both sides") as I watched the mph number steadily creep higher. Feet stopped pedalling and formed a stable base. Head and chest tucked down close to the frame - Like, makeout close. Hips shifted back flattening out the back. Uneducated to the technical specifics of aerodynamic cycling positions, I thought this felt about right. Judging from the consistent acceleration, I think it worked out pretty well.

On the high-side of 50mph, with no airbags, or steel cage around you - you notice things. Colors, vibrations, smells - the movement of 4 leaves on a tree 200 meters ahead of you letting you know you may have to brace a cross-wind. You're Awake!

The all-too-familiar 'twinge' started to bite at the back of my neck....cramping? really?! Tucking into the aero position required muscle usage that I had not yet developed. But God it's fun! A quick look down to stretch out the neck and we were back in business. To be completely honest - there is no feeling like passing a BMW 5-series going downhill; just something beautiful about it!

After the 5-0r-so-minute descent, I was back into the traffic and congestion of a typical LA morning. And as I rode home, mixed in with other people - riding in their cages of steel and plastics - I took with me the piece of mind that I was a part of a different niche of society; one that wasn't caged, but, incredibly free.