Some would call it laziness, but I think I have been a victim of "Acclimatization by Slow Change", to use the phrase of R.V. Jones. The brakes of my bicycle have been getting less and less effective over the last few weeks. I took lots of measures to counter this: first pulling harder at the back brake, then pulling harder at the front brake, then dragging a foot on the floor.
By yesterday the procedure to stop my bike was quite complex. Pulling as hard as possible on both brakes achieved only a negative third derivative of distance with respect to time. I was getting faster, but not as quickly as I would have done without applying the brakes*. To stop accelerating, I had to go into a slalom with both brakes on. By bobbing up and down in the saddle and thrusting the bike out at each turn it is possible to slalom quite sharply. This still left me going at a constant speed. To actually stop I had to stop slaloming, put the left foot to the floor and then turn the bike ninety degrees at the last second.
Today I decided to mend the brakes. I just had to loosen and tighten two screws, and took about five minutes. Now I can safely propel myself over the handlebars whenever I feel like it. I will try to tighten the brakes sooner the next time.
* If you understand this, you will also understand the Bild Zeitung headline on the German economy this week "Growth shrinks" (originally "Wachstum schrumpft")
Showing posts with label Cycling. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Cycling. Show all posts
Friday, January 23, 2009
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
Bicycle
I have acquired an old bicycle from a juggling friend. I had to spend 11 Euros (a bell in the form of a teapot and a stand to stop it falling over) to make it roadworthy. The bicycle has five gears but no gear lever. I went to a bicycle shop to ask for a new lever, but the guy didn't have one and couldn't order one. He thoughtfully changed the gear from second to third by giving the shifter a pull, and told me to dismount and push it back in if I ever found myself at the bottom of a big hill. He claimed that one-gear bicycles were all the rage this season, but might have been taking the piss.
I feel much better when I cycle than went I get the tram. Cycling requires movement, responsibility and has an element of danger, whereas getting the tram requires sitting around, which I do too much.
I feel much better when I cycle than went I get the tram. Cycling requires movement, responsibility and has an element of danger, whereas getting the tram requires sitting around, which I do too much.
Tuesday, April 10, 2007
The Möhnesee
My easter weekend wasn't nearly as depressing as last year's. I finally got round to doing what I'd always wanted to do as a kid: play ducks and drakes on the Möhnesee.
The Möhnesee was the main target of Operation Chastise in the second world war, as planes of the RAF attacked the dam with Bouncing Bombs. The bombers flew over the jut of land visible here (this is where I took the photo, too) before releasing the bombs around 400m from the dam wall. The fifth bomb breached the wall, sending a wave of water down the Möhne valley and into the Ruhr.
I got the train from Bochum to the other side of Dortmund, then cycled to the dam, ate lunch at the rather expensive Seehof restaurant (the reservoir is now a major tourist centre) and walked to the jut of land in order to launch a flat stone or two at the wall. The water was too choppy for any serious assault, but I got one stone to make four jumps before it sank far short of the wall.
The dam wall has a promenade so you can walk across, or possibly even drive across with a car. I stood on the wall for a couple of minutes, wondering if you could hide a 3-ton bomb in a fake sausage van. Fit the bomb with a hydrostatic fuse, drive onto the wall, tip it into the lake and run...
I will now try to change the tone to a more sombre one. The raid was part of the "Total War", where civilian targets were selected in order to damage the war production. The aim was to kill workers, destroy factories and homes and to restrict water and food supplies and energy production. Over 1000 civilians were killed, including hundreds of Prisoners of War. Of the 133 aircrew involved, 53 died, and those who returned safely had remote prospects of surviving the war. I'm glad that I can go to the Möhnesee on a bicycle and not in a Lancaster bomber, and I'm glad that when I throw stones at a lake, nobody is throwing anything back.
Monday, September 18, 2006
Cycling not very far.
Looking back at the summer, I peaked too early with my cycling efforts. This blog suggests that I reached an optimal performace on the 6th June, and have been slowing down ever since. July was too hot, August was too cold, and I was in Hamburg and England anyway. Right now I am distinctly off the pace, and I could swear that the muscle on my left calf is distinctly wimpier than my right calf. It feels that way to touch (I'm not really the kind of guy who goes around feeling his muscles, I was just checking for signs of tension, honestly), and the left leg is the first to complain whilst going uphill. Why is this? Presumably I've managed to keep one leg in training over the past month. Have I been kicking things that much, or hopping on one leg, or always jumping from the right leg? If so, why have I been jumping so much at all?
Plan for tomorrow: hop on left leg, and find a job.
Plan for tomorrow: hop on left leg, and find a job.
Tuesday, August 15, 2006
DESY bicycles
As an equal opportunities employer, DESY has to make sure that they don't discriminate against anyone. As all employees have the right to hire out a bicycle, these bicycles must all be suitable for everyone. On the principle of the lowest common denominator, this means that everyone gets a bicycle designed for a female midget.
It took me 2 days to work out that I had borrowed a ladies bicycle. I sort of wondered why my knees could touch, and why my back leg kept crashing against the basket above the rear wheel as I got on and off. Today I realised that the cross-bar was missing, and that I could just swing on and off lady-like. I don't cycle lady-like, though, I cycle like a baboon, with arms and legs pointing out at ridiculous angles.
This afternoon my bike got a puncture, so I pushed it to the nearest bike shop and asked whether they could repair it. They said that they could have it done by Friday, but they let me borrow the tools to do it myself, which was nice of them. This sort of cheered me up, I think, and I am feeling much better than in the past couple of days.
It took me 2 days to work out that I had borrowed a ladies bicycle. I sort of wondered why my knees could touch, and why my back leg kept crashing against the basket above the rear wheel as I got on and off. Today I realised that the cross-bar was missing, and that I could just swing on and off lady-like. I don't cycle lady-like, though, I cycle like a baboon, with arms and legs pointing out at ridiculous angles.
This afternoon my bike got a puncture, so I pushed it to the nearest bike shop and asked whether they could repair it. They said that they could have it done by Friday, but they let me borrow the tools to do it myself, which was nice of them. This sort of cheered me up, I think, and I am feeling much better than in the past couple of days.
Monday, July 31, 2006
Ignorance is Bliss
If you were forced to pick a spot for a picnic, you would do very well to beat the west shore of the "Happurger See", a reservoir near Hersbruck, which is about 25 miles south east of Erlangen. This is where I stopped for lunch yesterday as I cycled off for a rather lovely barbeque on the Dillberg with Chris.
If you sit on the shore of the Happurger See, you can look across to the "Houbirg", which is a big hill, or even a proper mountain: over 600m above sea level and with most daunting looking slopes, with rocks and small cliffs (see photo). Having a good map, but not a good dictionary, I knew that there was a "late-celtic oppidum" on the top of the Houbirg, but was left wondering how the celts had managed to get an indian takeaway, and how it had kept so well. Having eaten my picnic (a ham, lettuce and tomato sandwich plus a banana, as you ask), I skipped a few stones across the lake, and went for a quick swim too. I then set off, somewhat refreshed, for the rest of my tour.
After an annoyingly short amount of time to digest lunch I came to the first hill, as the road rose up to the village of Schupf. The hill is not too steep, but relentless, straight and with little shadow at lunchtime. I was hot and out of breath at the top of the hill, and cycled straight past a memorial to the victims of the Holocaust. I couldn't work out what the Holocaust had to do with this beautiful corner of Bavaria. Maybe, I thought, a local Jewish family had been killed. If I'd taken time to stop and look, I would have seen this memorial.
The reason for the memorial is brutally simple. Towards the end of the war the Allied bombing of German towns and factories was affecting the war effort, and efforts were made to move production underground. Some bright-headed soul must have remembered the steep-sided mountain near Hersbruck, and suggested digging out the mountain to create a bomb-proof factory. A concentration camp was then built in Hersbruck to supply labour, and the Houbirg was duly dug out. Those who died were burnt in a crematorium that now lies (presumably destroyed) in the lake. When the crematoriam capacity was exceeded they took the rest of the bodies up the hill to Schupf and burnt them in the woods.
Links:
The society for the concentration camp in Hersbruck (in German). This is an excellent website describing what happened, well written, and without waffle. It is also a very good balance to the half-facts and flippancy you get on my blog.
Wikipedia page about Hersbruck.
Wikipedia page explaining what an Oppidum is.
If you sit on the shore of the Happurger See, you can look across to the "Houbirg", which is a big hill, or even a proper mountain: over 600m above sea level and with most daunting looking slopes, with rocks and small cliffs (see photo). Having a good map, but not a good dictionary, I knew that there was a "late-celtic oppidum" on the top of the Houbirg, but was left wondering how the celts had managed to get an indian takeaway, and how it had kept so well. Having eaten my picnic (a ham, lettuce and tomato sandwich plus a banana, as you ask), I skipped a few stones across the lake, and went for a quick swim too. I then set off, somewhat refreshed, for the rest of my tour.
After an annoyingly short amount of time to digest lunch I came to the first hill, as the road rose up to the village of Schupf. The hill is not too steep, but relentless, straight and with little shadow at lunchtime. I was hot and out of breath at the top of the hill, and cycled straight past a memorial to the victims of the Holocaust. I couldn't work out what the Holocaust had to do with this beautiful corner of Bavaria. Maybe, I thought, a local Jewish family had been killed. If I'd taken time to stop and look, I would have seen this memorial.
The reason for the memorial is brutally simple. Towards the end of the war the Allied bombing of German towns and factories was affecting the war effort, and efforts were made to move production underground. Some bright-headed soul must have remembered the steep-sided mountain near Hersbruck, and suggested digging out the mountain to create a bomb-proof factory. A concentration camp was then built in Hersbruck to supply labour, and the Houbirg was duly dug out. Those who died were burnt in a crematorium that now lies (presumably destroyed) in the lake. When the crematoriam capacity was exceeded they took the rest of the bodies up the hill to Schupf and burnt them in the woods.
Links:
The society for the concentration camp in Hersbruck (in German). This is an excellent website describing what happened, well written, and without waffle. It is also a very good balance to the half-facts and flippancy you get on my blog.
Wikipedia page about Hersbruck.
Wikipedia page explaining what an Oppidum is.
Monday, June 19, 2006
A Time-honoured Tradition
Today, children, we will learn about nutrition. Now we all know that a healthy diet is important, and that drinking too much and eating fast food is bad for you, but sometimes the consequences are not immediately clear. Say, for example that you drink beer all afternoon, and fill up on a Kebab and chips. The chances are that you will survive this piece of foolishness, your liver will sort out the booze and you'll burn off the fat soon enough, and continue your life apparently none-the-worse.
Of course after a while you might lose the odd organ (I am missing the gall-bladder), but then it is hard to know exactly what caused this. Was it the wine and beer, or the fish and chips, or the turkey twizzlers, or too many hamburgers? Maybe something worse would have happened if you'd been eating salad the whole time.
Well this weekend I did some experiments on nutrition and sport. On Friday I went cycling with beer and kebab and chips lingering in my stomach from the night before. Until 20 miles I was feeling fine. I then got a cramp in one leg. After 30 miles I ate a salad (things were that bad!). After 40 miles I was suffering badly from the heat, and couldn't think quite straight. After 50 miles I was home and kaputt. Some guiding voice inside my head told me to eat lots of Spaghetti Bolognese, after which I fell asleep.
The next day I cycled 80 miles, despite the legs being a bit tired from the day before, and I felt a damn sight better. I then ate more Spagetti Bolognese, and cycled another 50-odd miles on Sunday.
So right now I have a new-found respect for my digestive system. It's quite amazing to think that a plate of Spaghetti Bolognese can propel you to the top of a big hill. It looks so static and splodgy (well mine did), and I can't imagine how anyone would ever think of getting huge amounts of energy out of it. It's an impressive feat, and I should imagine that the amazement is even greater on the side of the plate of Spaghetti Bolognese. One minute it's sitting there minding it's own business, the next it's being used as fuel by some idiot with a bicycle.
And before I forget, greetings to the two idiots with bicycles from Berlin who put me up to these trips. And thanks to "The Tonight Show with Jay Leno" for the picture.
Tuesday, June 06, 2006
Forchheim
125 km and 1.5 litres of beer was the sum of yesterday's cycling and beer-drinking efforts. The trip took me to Bamberg, where I saw off Henning, who is cycling to Hamburg after several days of careful preparation.
On the way to Bamberg I passed through Forchheim, and more importantly through the small village of Hausen. The residents of Hausen, apparently, believe that Pontius Pilate was born there, either in house number 48 or 73. I suppose that you can forgive them a few lost details in the 2000 years which have passed. Before the fact can become universally acknowledged, though, the Forchheimers will have to fight it out with the Fortingallers, who are equally convinced that Pontius Pilate was scottish.
Forchheim is otherwise of note for holding off the might of the swedish army during the 30-years war, during which they earned themselves the nickname "the wall shitters", a name best left unexplained. They achieved their military success despite having possibly the least imposing coat-of-arms ever, with not just one but two rather bored-looking trout.
On the way to Bamberg I passed through Forchheim, and more importantly through the small village of Hausen. The residents of Hausen, apparently, believe that Pontius Pilate was born there, either in house number 48 or 73. I suppose that you can forgive them a few lost details in the 2000 years which have passed. Before the fact can become universally acknowledged, though, the Forchheimers will have to fight it out with the Fortingallers, who are equally convinced that Pontius Pilate was scottish.
Forchheim is otherwise of note for holding off the might of the swedish army during the 30-years war, during which they earned themselves the nickname "the wall shitters", a name best left unexplained. They achieved their military success despite having possibly the least imposing coat-of-arms ever, with not just one but two rather bored-looking trout.
Sunday, May 21, 2006
Sacrificial offerings
No, no, no, despite the title of the post I'm not writing about Hermes. I am back in Erlangen, and back on track with my mission statement: today I cycled to Bamberg and drank a shandy. Bamberg is about 40 km from Erlangen, but I took the scenic route, stopping for lunch in the small franconian village of Teuchatz. Gasthof Neuner (that's the name of the pub in Teuchatz) is good for three reasons; it has cheap beer, a very limited menu (a choice of one of three lumps of meat, each served with salad and dumpling), and is on top of a hill. This means that you get 5 extra minutes to digest your dumpling before you have to go up the next hill.
A short while after lunch I passed a sign pointing to the "Jungfernhoehle", which translates as the "virgins' cave". Of course I cycled straight past it, suspecting that seeing the cave would involve a long walk, that the cave would be very much like any other, and that the virgins had probably taken the afternoon off.
In all these points I was probably right, but the cave has a most peculiar history. According to a local legend three virgins were beheaded in front of the cave and each October would go for a headless moonlit ride. Then in 1951 some members of the Engert family, living in nearby Tiefenellern, decided to dig out the cave in a search for treasure. They were eventually stopped by some local amateur geologists, and the digging, which had found only bits of bone, stone and pottery, was turned over to some proper archaeologists. After quite a bit of digging, they had quite a lot of bones, including 40 skulls of young girls each with a hole in the side. They also had an extra large cooking pot. Putting two and two together, the experts declared the cave to be a site of ritual sacrifice and cannibalism, dating back 4000-5000 years. The cross below (borrowed from wikipedia) is a memorial to the victims.
Is it a coincidence that the story of the beheaded virgins rose around a cave where ritual sacrifices took place? Many people, including Victor Harth (see link below) thinks that it isn't, and that the legends were passed down through the generations for several millennia.
Links:
Victor Harth describes the story, in german.
Two geologists from Erlangen mention the story in their article about something else. Also in german.
A Time article from 1953, which you have to pay for. I did pay for it, so if you really want to read it just [DELETED BY ENDOFPHIL LEGAL TEAM].
A short while after lunch I passed a sign pointing to the "Jungfernhoehle", which translates as the "virgins' cave". Of course I cycled straight past it, suspecting that seeing the cave would involve a long walk, that the cave would be very much like any other, and that the virgins had probably taken the afternoon off.
In all these points I was probably right, but the cave has a most peculiar history. According to a local legend three virgins were beheaded in front of the cave and each October would go for a headless moonlit ride. Then in 1951 some members of the Engert family, living in nearby Tiefenellern, decided to dig out the cave in a search for treasure. They were eventually stopped by some local amateur geologists, and the digging, which had found only bits of bone, stone and pottery, was turned over to some proper archaeologists. After quite a bit of digging, they had quite a lot of bones, including 40 skulls of young girls each with a hole in the side. They also had an extra large cooking pot. Putting two and two together, the experts declared the cave to be a site of ritual sacrifice and cannibalism, dating back 4000-5000 years. The cross below (borrowed from wikipedia) is a memorial to the victims.
Is it a coincidence that the story of the beheaded virgins rose around a cave where ritual sacrifices took place? Many people, including Victor Harth (see link below) thinks that it isn't, and that the legends were passed down through the generations for several millennia.
Links:
Victor Harth describes the story, in german.
Two geologists from Erlangen mention the story in their article about something else. Also in german.
A Time article from 1953, which you have to pay for. I did pay for it, so if you really want to read it just [DELETED BY ENDOFPHIL LEGAL TEAM].
Sunday, May 07, 2006
Cherry Blossom
Considering that it says in the title of my blog that I will try to cycle and drink the summer away, I have written remarkably little about cycling or drinking. I've been doing quite a bit of both, but in a rather unremarkable 50 km here, one litre there kind of manner, which doesn't really lend itself to writing about.
Well today I went for a very nice bicycle ride in and around "franconian switzerland". Franconian switzerland is a natural park just outside Erlangen, and is quite hilly, but lacks the major mountains (and yodellers and banks and ...) that its name suggests. It was rather windy, but also warm and sunny. And for about 20 minutes between Geschwand and Bieberbach everything came together. I had just eaten a ham and lettuce sandwich, the sun was shining, there were no cars at all, the wind was on my back, and the road was lined with cherry trees, each of which was in full blossom.
Well today I went for a very nice bicycle ride in and around "franconian switzerland". Franconian switzerland is a natural park just outside Erlangen, and is quite hilly, but lacks the major mountains (and yodellers and banks and ...) that its name suggests. It was rather windy, but also warm and sunny. And for about 20 minutes between Geschwand and Bieberbach everything came together. I had just eaten a ham and lettuce sandwich, the sun was shining, there were no cars at all, the wind was on my back, and the road was lined with cherry trees, each of which was in full blossom.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)