Rooby-Roo the Rocket

No, that is not snow in my driveway – it’s clamshells. The sun bleaches them white. 🙂

Well, it’s official. I’m a triathlete. Never mind the last five years, with three Ironmans, and I lost count of how many HIMs, olys and sprints.

I am an official triathlete because now I have the gear to prove it. I guess that’s why some people go for the gear first. Skip all the other crap–training, years of racing, and so on. It’s not real until you are on a tri-bike.

Now, I understand.

My brand new, first-ever tri-bike was ready for pick-up on Saturday–>a Quintana Roo CD0.1, with Dura Ace, and Reynolds Strike Wheel Set. John and I made the journey to Bryn Mawr (about 90 minutes) to Cycles Bikyle for a fitting and to bring little Rooby-Roo home.

And by little, I mean little.

John saw the bike and said, “Whoa – that is a midget bike.”

Harumph. 

She prefers the term “little bike,” thank you very much. Must be nice to be 6-foot-tall, and come out of the womb as a natural athlete. *Cue the smallest violin in the world playing  just for my vertically-challenged, hobbit self.*

In all seriousness, the reason I went with a Quintana Roo is because the company understands how to make a bike for small women who don’t necessarily want to drop down to 650c wheels. And, for that, I thank you. I realize we are not a major market in Triathlon, but we exist. And, I appreciate a company that recognizes this important constituency. All 3 of us.

My appointment was set for 4 p.m., and we were there right on time (unlike the last time – the magic of better directions and a firm foot on the gas pedal).

They brought us to the back of the shop, and then pulled her out from the heavenly shadows, where clearly she was waiting just.for.me.

This picture may or may not have been enhanced to illustrate Rooby’s heavenly qualities. A lady never tells her beauty secrets.

The joy on my face must have been beyond obvious, as all of the men in the shop starting giggling like little school girls. Oh, my goodness. What have I done to be so blessed with such a beautiful riding partner?

I’m going to love her, and hug her, and ride her, and call her Rooby-Roo. (For the full effect, pronounce her name in Scooby Doo’s voice. You’ll be glad you did.)

After the unveiling, they set her up on the trainer, and we went about the business of making the final touches with the fit. One of the shop techs walked me through the basics, in aero, on the horns, shifting, and so on. He looked at me for about 30 seconds and asked, “So, you are a runner?”

Yeaaaahhh, it was that obvious from the way I pedal a bike. How many years have I been doing triathlon? Ugh.

After that, the shop owner, Kyle, came over to check me out. He put me through quite a few paces, and made a few adjustments to the seat and to the positioning of the bars.

Getting the feel of Miss Rooby.

What I found most amazing the way he watched me pedal and made eyeball assessments of what I was doing. For example:

“You are pedaling much harder with your right leg. Let the right leg hang out and bring the left one up to pressure.”

Dang if he wasn’t right. I didn’t notice it until he said it, but as soon as he said, I knew he was right. And, based on the CompuTrainer spin scan data from the past two years, sure enough, my right side is the dominant side.

“Apply constant pressure with the ball of your foot all the way through the pedal stroke. You can also think of it as keeping constant pressure on the chain.”

He looked at John, “Do you see how the chain sags on the back end of her stroke.”

I looked at John’s face and could tell immediately that he saw it. Kyle gave me some pointers, and voila, no chain slack.

Kyle and the bike tech (yikes – I wish I grabbed his name!) both commented on my foot placement, as I tend to point my toes a bit at the bottom of the stroke, they emphasized keeping my foot in a more stable, flatter position, with sharper dorsiflexion in my ankle to enable a stronger pull, as well as push.

“Sit back on the seat more,” Kyle coached. “How does that feel? That’s your power position.”

My two girls: Bella and Rooby-Roo.

A few more eyeball pedal stroke assessments, and I could actually hear the difference as the back wheel sung across the flywheel of the trainer. I think it’s important to note that I was already “fit” for the bike – Kyle and the other techs were simply trying to help me be a more efficient cyclist. That’s service.

After working through some of the weaknesses in my stroke, Kyle looked at John again, “That girl’s got some power in those legs.”

John laughed, “Yeah, and she’s only know starting to learn how to use them for cycling.”

I puffed up like a peacock, giving a proud glance at my large legs. This bike, my legs–we are going to be good partners in the 2013 season. *weep* *weep*

The fit extended beyond just the bike. They wanted me to take the bike for a spin around the block to make sure everything felt okay. So, I dutifully put on my helmet. Kyle took one look at me in my helmet, “Come here.”

He didn’t take the opportunity to make fun of me – even though he really should have. The straps were all loosey goosey and flapping all over my head. I had been riding with them that way for two years now.

See what happens when a runner sits on a bike? It’s pathetic. Truly pathetic. We don’t even know how to put a helmet on.

I took Rooby out for her maiden voyage on Sunday. What do I love about Rooby? 

First of all, she’s more comfortable than my road bike. I feel like I’m nestled right in the middle – like goldilocks, just without the bears and the gold locks.

Second, Rooby has an adamo seat (pictured at right). The slice in the seat? Yeeeaaah, that is the best thing since they sliced bread. It allows all the lady parts to breathe and be free. I imagine it permits the boy parts to be free as well. I cannot believe I’ve waited this long to get this seat. You should not wait as long as I did. Get it. Now. Seriously. Leave this blog, and buy one. I release you. The conclusion isn’t that awesome anyway.

The bike is light. I take two or three pedal strokes, and I’m off. I noticed this advantage at intersections, where I might be a little slower to cross the road, Rooby just glides, as if to say, “What’s the big deal? We’re just crossing the street, babe.” Yeah, I got you, babe.

Third, shifting. On the road bike, I had to come out of the aero bars to shift. On Rooby, I just click, click, click, and we are moving through the gears like it ain’t nothing but a thang, mama.

And this is just the start. For the first time in ever, I can’t wait until my next bike ride.

Is it tomorrow yet?

(See, I told you the conclusion wasn’t that awesome.)

 

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