Teresa Experiences

There was something different about my bike. For several years, I had tolerated its slightly bigger-than-me frame, with my back and arms stretching forward. This position never bothered me during long rides, maybe some back pain, but nothing too uncomfortable. Downtube shifting took a while for me to master but I liked the vintage feel of it. It felt clattery and bumpy, especially on poorly maintained roads, but on long rides, I knew it wouldn't let me down. All in all, I had grown to love this old road bike with all its imperfections. 

Today was different. I could feel the chain struggling to hit the gears. I could feel the bearings slowing down and I felt like I was in a more stretched out position. The strange synergy I felt that nobody else could feel whenever others would ride my bike was missing. It felt... old.

I blamed this all on 2 recent crashes. The first crash was when the car hit me and I had to have my handlebars replaced. I'm now on wider (42cm vs. 40 cm) handlebars and have pretty blue and yello camo handlebar tape on. My second crash happened a few weeks later as I descended a hill with a flat front tire. As I braked, the wheel slid out in front of me and fell facedown. Thank God again for my helmet. I ripped my pants and skinned my palm. In the few seconds that I lay there, I already felt the bruises forming.

What was wrong with me? Was I biking too much? Was I taking too many unnecessary risks? Was I becoming complacent in my riding? I contemplated taking a break from riding but I knew that I would only look for it.

But I still rode. However, there was a new sensation. It was fear. I no longer blazed through downhill sections, instead I gripped the handlebars and brakes tightly, imagining all sorts of scenarios, mostly where the bike would spin out front of me and I would get crushed by an incoming truck/bus coming from Teresa. And that was what I felt that Sunday, as LA and I did another semi-long ride (60km~). My riding position was so stretched out and I had to reach farther down my brakes.

LA and I had our lugaw, and as I was explaining my situation to him, I realized my handlebars were all wrong. I thought back to the time the bike mechanics installed my semi-new handlebars and told them to place the brake hoods further down. No wonder I felt stretched out. I was literally stretched out. I was leaning so far forward as I braked that I was off my seat, placing all my gravity on the front part of my bike. No wonder it felt like I could topple any second-- it was only a matter of time before that could actually happen.

Orange-tinted life

As we headed back and went through Antipolo, I felt frustrated as we made our way down. Now that I knew what was causing the problem, I made my way down slowly and cautiously. I was frustrated as other bikes passed me downhill. And turns frightened me, as if I suddenly forgot how and when to brake.

That day was a bit eerie as I felt myself getting stronger uphill (that 3km stretch from Teresa to Antipolo no longer frightened me as I thought it would), yet somehow lost my confidence going downhill.

Rapha Women's 100

(I wrote this thinking I did a century ride as women all over the world were celebrating the Rapha Women's 100. It was only after some research that I realized I did this ride two weeks too late.)

My knee was in pain after several consecutive Saturdays of playing floorball. I desperately wanted to ride the weekend before but my knee could barely make it up the gentle hills of our village. It would be very painful trying to make it up Antipolo. 

As is always the case, every time I say "No" to a ride, I always wish I said yes. If there's anything that biking has taught me, it can make anything better, even throbbing knee pain. It might seem counter-intuitive to give your knee more pain by subjecting it to a 100km ride.

So this Sunday, I resolved not to say no again, despite the nagging knee pain and despite not putting enough mileage the previous weeks.

A 6:30 call time turned into an a 7:15 ride as LA and I couldn't wait for our friends any longer. My lack of training showed as I felt the familiar discomfort of going up Antipolo--

I could write all day about how physically unprepared I was for this ride. But the truth was, I was excited to be there. Just feeling that familiar discomfort and welcoming the heavy breathing, the hot sun, the sweat streaming down, and the burning pain in your legs were like old friends. Friends that you haven't seen in a long time and there is that initial awkwardness of strange hi's and hello's, then you relax and hit that familiar stride of meaningful conversation.

We hit Pisong Kape in about 2 hours. The flats that I dreaded after the Teresa downhill were surprisingly tolerable, helped in part by the tailwind. Shortly after, Cess, Dennis, Luis and Morris arrived, after setting a blistering pace from Masinag to Pisong Kape. Lugaw and egg will always be the best post-race reward.

Waiting for our post-ride meal

Bike friends, old and new.

The backs of friends

As we headed back, our group started to dwindle little by little. Morris forgot the turn to Teresa, Luis took a wrong turn from Antipolo and LA got a flat somewhere between Antiplo and Masinag. By then, midday was approaching and the sun was out in full force. It seemed as if every time I tried to get into a good rhythm during the ride, there was always an interruption. I headed back home solo just in time for lunch with the family. And just like that, another century experience in the bag.

Monsoon Season

I used to avoid biking in the rain. It was a hassle being caught in the rain without the proper rain gear. I'd arrive in school/office/wherever dripping wet, without the proper change of clothes and just feeling absolutely miserable.

Unfortunately, the only other option was commuting, which seemed like a horrible alternative. It was impossible to get a ride in rush hour, traffic is horrible, jeeps are impssibly hot and stuffy, MRT crowds are pushy and impatient. In other words, it would be a miserable experience.

But I always knew that every time I'm not on my bke, I'd look wistfully out the window at some biker in the rain and wish I was out there, dripping wet and all.

So I made some adjustments. I got myself heavy duty rain bags (a Timbuk2 messenger bag and an Outdry backpack), a lightweight waterproof rainjacket and carried 3 extra sets of clothes with me.

Except for wet butt and striped back moments from the rain spray, wet season became my friend. I cleaned and regreased/oiled my bike more often but I didn't shy away from the rain anymore.

Until my wet butt and striped back started to bother me. I want to arrive in my destinations with a nice, warm butt. I needed bike fenders. Unfortunately, the pretty bike fenders online were expensive and I didn't want to wait 

So, I searched for bike fender tutorials. Bike hacks and instructables gave me some inspiration, and my friend gave me the suggestion of using plastic folders as fenders.

On one rainy Wednesday, I rummaged through old school supplies and found an old plastic folder that I could use. I made some rough measurements The result was 2 flimsy pieces of plastic that I attached using zip ties. They are ugly to look at and look extremely flimsy, but guess what, they did their job well. My butt has now remained rain-free the past few weeks.

Plastic folder fender prototype 0.000001

Bent then broken

The crash was painful. Seeing this was a painful reminder. 

Not enough bikes

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Crash

Early morning ride. The reason why I brought this bike that day.

The bruises have almost faded now. A few deep and dark bruises near my knee were the only evidence that I was hit by a car. Hard.

I was approximately 200 meters away from my destination. And from where I was I could see the car at a standstill. I proceeded straight ahead, yet he somehow must not have seen me as he went straight ahead too. I tried turning away from him, but by then it was too late. The right side of my body smashed into his car and I hit the asphalt painfully. I felt my head bounce several times and for the nth time, I prayed and thanked God I had my helmet on.

This isn't the first time I've been hit. Over the past five years of bike commuting, I've been hit by wayward doors, jeepneys, cars and even a truck that tried to squeeze me out of the road. I've carried my bruises like proud battle scars or accessorized them with a sheepish grin when the accidents were my fault.

This, however, felt different. Perhaps it was the way my body felt as it hit the ground. The impact was more forceful than any crash I could remember. For a few moments, I thought it was an extremely serious accident, since I couldn't move any of my limbs. As I lay on the asphalt and tried to ignore the gathering crowd, I listened to my body and knew that I would only have a few bruises.

It took me longer than usual to get to my senses. All the anger that I was supposed to throw at the driver dissipated as I lay on the ground trying to recover. Several helpful individuals assessed me quickly, checking if I had a concussion or asking where there was pain.

I couldn't stand on my right foot and I was brought to the infirmary. The x-rays showed I had no broken bones but I was shaken up inside. I was unable to get the driver's contact information and I only had his plate number as my reference.

Wheelchair at the infirmary. 

What shook me from my dazed state was seeing my handlebars all bent out of shape. It really had to be the classic road bike. This is one of the reasons why I got a cheap single speed bike-- for moments like this. I shook my head at the irony.

A more aerodynamic handlebar position?

The next day, I took public transportation to all my destinations. Yet I found myself staring wistfully at all the bikers that passed by the vehicles I was in. The day after, I was back on my bike.

I'll never know what will make stop biking. Or even why I continue to do this. I feel like I am a smarter and more careful biker than I was a few years ago. The sad part is (and this goes for motorists in general), no matter how careful I am, it doesn't matter if there is one wayward driver.

Summer nights

The summer heat has been unbearable the last few weeks or so. It's been quite impossible to go out on long rides just because thinking that the day will be scorching takes extra energy.

Then unexpectedly, I received a text. "Want to do a sunset ride?" It was a Friday and I had no other plans that day and for the weekend. I would gladly take any chance I could get to squeeze in a quality ride that did not invlove Manila's streets.

"Just one thing. It's a sunset ride up Shotgun."

Gulp. Despite my extensive riding experience (well mostly within Manila), I've never biked up Shotgun. I've gone up the Wall, I've ridden the trails of Maarat, and I walked/hiked Shotgun, but I've never gone up there by bike. There's always a first time.

So late afternoon we set off from UP and headed to Timberland.

I could quickly see the perks of riding late into the afternoon. The cool afternoon breeze (something sorely lacking during the day) was refreshing. It helped that as we went up, the road gradually disappeared into the night, so I had no sense of incline or of distance. All I knew at that time was to put one foot in front of the other and to listen to the steady pounding of my heart and my heavy breathing. Like the sunset, the city life gradually faded into the darkness.

 The road wasn't an easy feat. We were the only bikers heading up but similarly, motorcycles and dump trucks were heading up as well. I felt the hair rise up on my arms every time a dump truck passed us, always a silent prayer on my lips that we'd be safe.

Some of our rest stops along the way to watch the sun disappear.

By the time we reached the top of Shotgun, the trucks had freaked me out so much I couldn't think of going down that same route.

Halo belt. We watched the city lights flicker on.

"Let's go through the trail. That will take us back to the Wall."

You're crazy. But what choice did we have? The trail was fairly easy, may be a quick 2-3km stretch of dirt road, with occasional singletracks. I could imagine that this wouldn't be difficult at all during the day. But it was late, maybe 7 or 8 pm? Even with our headlamps and bike lights on, the trail was still rather demanding.  At one point, during a very short downhill, I had to unclip just because I felt a really nasty semplang coming if I pushed on.

We finally made it to the Timberland gate without any harm but with my nerves all shaken up. Thankfully nothing serious or paranormal happened. So would I do this again? Well, we ended up back there the following week.