An open letter to male cyclists

Dear Male Cyclists,

I understand that today marks the summer solstice, and that this celestial event ignites a desire in each and every one of you: to remove your jersey and let your flesh bask in the glory of the sun in honor of this special day.

I'm asking you to please, for my sake and the sake of female cyclists everywhere, please reconsider this act. (Unless you're Andy Schleck, in which case, please indulge.)

Seriously guys? It was 82°F today. This is not an unreasonable level of heat, nor was it terribly humid. (In fact, it was kind of breezy and partly cloudy.) I was perfectly fine wearing my sports bra, jersey, and camelbak with five pounds of water and food on my back. Surely you could manage to endure a simple jersey for our sake?

I guess that's asking too much, because over the course of my 39-mile ride through Lake Orion and surrounding areas today I encountered a number of shirtless male cyclists, much to my dismay. I will now attempt to catalog the various species of shirtless men a girl can encounter on a ride, so as to better help you folks recognize which category you fall into and (more importantly) prevent future incidents.

• The dad: this variety is most often found riding casually down the street in khaki or denim shorts, sans helmet, accompanied by a child (or children). Often possessing a protruding gut and receding hairline, these are the least pleasant to look at, but do not pose a great risk.
• The senior citizen: this safety-oriented cyclist has many of the same physical features of the dad (gut, lack of hair, et al) with the addition of wrinkles, but is mindful to wear a helmet with an attached mirror. He rides in bike shorts (but not bibs) which do not flatter the older figure. Like the dad, the senior citizen is not particularly harmful to anything other than the retinas, and as such poses little risk.
• The roadie: the worst offender, these men neglect ONLY the jersey from their cycling attire. Even their cycling caps and mid-calf socks remain. In my imagination, these cyclists were wearing a full zip jersey at the beginning of their ride, but when fully unzipped it began to flutter so violently in the wind that it removed itself from the cyclist, who couldn't be bothered to stop and retrieve it. These men are dangerous because when they pass you (as they invariably will, being competitive, and generally faster than you), you will be sprayed with a disgusting mist of sweat. Additionally, the sun has a tendency to reflect off his pasty-white torso and blind you. I urge you to take precaution and utilize protective eyewear.
• The triathlete: essentially like the roadie, but wearing a silly aero helmet instead of a cycling cap, and slightly less pasty-white. Carries the same risk of sweat-mist.
• The fred: this threat can possess the appearance of the roadie, but may also be an amalgamation of each type. This shirtless rider is unpredictable. He may try to pass you, only to be caught up with at the next hill, each time leaving the sweat-mist for you to run into. He may also pass you never to be seen again, in which case, consider yourself lucky for only having to endure one bout of sweat-misting.

Well, men, there you have it. You now know how to identify your shirtless self and how to right the problem. (Hint: put on a jersey!)

Much appreciated,

Carrie

North Country Trail

I've been on the west side of the state the past few days, and I managed to find time to squeeze in a ride on the North Country Trail. I was in the Newaygo area, so I headed northwest from the Croton Dam, and rode about 24 miles on the trail. It was a great intro to riding in sand, and probably good preparation for Ore to Shore.

Rolling sandy areas were fun...

The trail meandered through the Manistee National Forest, which was absolutely beautiful in places! The terrain ranged from grassy open areas to thick pine forest. There were a few twisty spots, and some nice hills, but for the most part the NCT was sweepy and rolling. In one of the open sandy areas, I actually found cacti growing:

I was surprised to find these near the trail!

Some areas, like these pines, would have been hard to follow without the blue markers on the trees.

It was kind of difficult to even find the trail in the first place, and I would've liked better signage—while the trees along the trail were marked every so often with blue paint, there were a few areas that got me turned around, usually around road crossings. At one point, I got mixed up on some singletrack that a private landowner built to intersect with the trail, and I ended up in someone's back yard.

A few lessons learned:

1. Print out a map. 'Nuff said.
2. Bring a camelbak next time. Given that it was an impromptu ride far from home, I didn't have my camelbak with me. I took two bottles in the cages and one in a pocket, but a camelbak would have been much more comfortable.
3. Keep some Benadryl in the aforementioned camelbak. There was something out on that trail, some kind of pollen or spore that I'm not accustomed to, that gave me a ridiculously runny nose and eyes.
4. Set aside some time to go longer! It would be great to do some bikepacking along this trail and go further north.

This small creek was unmarked, but beautiful.

BOW - Stony Creek

Today was the MMBA/DNRE's Becoming an Outdoor Woman Mountain Bike Symposium. My group rode with a few girls from the Dark Horse Brewing team and a couple of guys. I had a great time, and gained a lot of confidence riding rocks and switchbacks.

I cleared the big rock garden twice, no problem. This stretch starts and ends with some pretty big rocks which are intimidating looking, but my nerves were eased knowing that there was a crew of guys there to catch us if we fell. I'd say the most challenging part of the trail for me was the roller coaster (or at least that's what I think it was called; maybe it was before that?) with all of its tight turns and switchbacks.

(That's not me, obviously, but this girl rocked!)

I feel the day was a huge success because I didn't technically fall; however, I did have a few mishaps along the trail. First, at one point during some switchbacks, my front wheel's quick release flipped open. This could have been a very scary experience, but thankfully I heard a pinging sound (of the lever hitting the fork) and the front end felt a little loosey-goosey. I was able to pull off the trail to figure out what was causing the problem before the wheel actually came off the fork. Crisis averted.

There was another point where I was going a little too fast and I had a run in with a tree. Well, a couple of trees. I lost control after a tight turn and jammed my wheel between two trees spaced about eight inches apart. I didn't fall off, though; when the bike stopped I was still clipped in and upright. Kind of like a dysfunctional track stand.

Mishaps aside, I kicked Stony's ass, and learned a lot in the process. It was a good day.

Oh, there was a raffle as well, in which I won a giant (22 oz) bottle of Hammer Gel plus a handy little squeezy dispenser. $20 value—it essentially paid for my registration fees. Thanks Rochester Bike Shop!