A Single Speed Lifestyle

You're still the one that makes me strong

Still the one I want to take along

We're still having fun and you're still the one

Still The One, Johanna Hall and John Hall (1976)

Single speed mountain biking caught on in certain circles awhile back, but largely dissipated over time. Not for me. My primary mountain bike from 2001-2018 was a rigid steel single speed. Although I added a geared Jones 29+ mountain bike for bikepacking in 2018, my two other mountain bikes remain rigid single speed, even now.

Inexplicably, signs stir of a single speed resurgence, at least here in the Black Hills of South Dakota. See, e.g., Single Speed Shindig. Sweet. I love the single speed mindset and resulting lifestyle.

Tooling around the house on my new Rock Hopper Comp (December 1991)

In late December 1991, yes that's over 30 years ago, I stepped into our suburban Denver home after yet another long work day. I'm done. But Colleen has other thoughts. She presents a shiny new mountain bike as a congratulatory gift for my making partner at my law firm.

It's a Specialized Rock Hopper Comp, a solid mid-level mountain bike at the time. Rigid steel frame. 26 inch wheels. 2 inch wide knobby tires. Cantilever rim brakes. 3x8 speed drivetrain. 24/36/46 chain rings x 13/28 cassette. Trigger shifters. Flat bars. Flat pedals with toe clips. Braze-ons for racks and fenders. Too cool for school.

A few months before, I had rented that very bike from a local bike shop. For my first ever mountain bike ride, a friend suggested 24 miles of single track Colorado Trail from Kenosha Pass to Georgia Pass and back. Wow. That bike was fast, fun, and so capable off-pavement. At every opportunity, I rode anything that looked like a road or trail or goat path. I was hooked.

In the late 1990's, I started racing mountain bikes and soon found myself in a nuclear arms race. That is, with dizzying advances in suspension, gearing, brakes, and seemingly everything else on a bike, one could buy performance and relative placing in amateur racing. For a few years, I plunged into the fray, buying a racing mountain bike and continuously upgrading components, which relegated the stodgy, heavy, hopelessly out of date Rock Hopper to back up/loaner bike.

Then, in 2001, for some reason I converted the Rock Hopper to single speed for an occasional commute to work. On the very first ride, I experienced an epiphany. This is it. This is the way. Strip it all down. Simplify it all. Everything. It's about the ride, not the bike. Ride. Just ride.

I bailed out of the rat race, ditching all the latest, greatest, gee-whiz technology. Just like that, I chose to ride a rigid single speed as my primary mountain bike for everything, including several years at the 24 Hours of Moab, the Dakota Five-O, and similar mountain bike races. It was hard. It was awesome. It was perfect for me.

My Rock Hopper dressed for a final commute to work on June 30, 2020,
with some original turquoise paint peeking through on the top tube.
The "IRONCLAD" decal represents the old mountain bike racing team of ChristianCycling.org.

Over time, I converted an odd assortment of beater bikes to single speed or fixed, even fashioning an old mountain bike into a banana seat, ape hanger cruiser. My few remaining geared bikes languished, practically unridden. In 2010, I decided to try a drop bar mountain bike, so I built up a new, rigid, drop bar, Kona Unit 29er single speed as my primary mountain bike. The Rock Hopper moved back to commuter, where it's been ever since.

Sometimes set up single speed and sometimes fixed, the Rock Hopper carried me many of the final years that I commuted to work in Rapid City. My retirement in 2020 closed that chapter, but the Rock Hopper still brings a smile to face when spinning to CoffeeOutside - Rapid City and other low key rides.

After 30 years, it's still the one.

Still The One, Orleans (1976)

Your Go-To Route

Once committed to commuting by bike (see prior post Commit), the next step is to find a go-to route. One route to go to work. One route to go home. They may be the same, but not necessarily.

You may have many, many options. You may have only a few. But seek that go-to route. And find it now before the weather turns cold. By then you'll be ready to take on the Icy Bike Winter Commuting Challenge. Icy Bike Challenge.

Riding to work on a quiet fall morning along the Rapid City bike path.
That's the southwest side of M-Hill in the background.

Start with safety. Part of the magic of bike commuting for me is the relaxing ride into work in the early morning, my favorite time of the day, and the decompressing ride from work, to leave work at work. This magic has a chance to happen when the route is safe.

So, I look for a go-to route that carries little to no traffic. That probably won't be the most direct route and almost certainly won't be the one you drive. Absent a bike path or lane, look for wide shoulders, good sight lines, lower speeds, lower volume, well controlled intersections, and minimal driveways to parking lots and houses. If there's any traffic on your route, you want to be able to see it and hear it, especially at intersections. Assume no driver sees you.

Avoid routes that lead directly into low sun, which blinds everyone. If needed, change routes with the seasons, or change your time of day on that route. Do what it takes to avoid riding into that low sun.

My path home. Memorial Park looking west toward M-Hill.
Yes, that's a white concrete "M" on that hill, representing South Dakota School of Mines and Technology.

My most direct, car-driving route to work is less than 4 miles, mostly on a busy 4 lane road with 50+ mph traffic and a narrow shoulder. The rare occasion I bike commute on that road is not all that relaxing or safe. Over the years, drivers have buzzed me, swerved toward me, honked at me just as they're passing, screamed at me, and even hit me between the shoulder blades with a thrown soda. Most drivers are fine, but all it takes is one. I don't ride that road very often.       

However, if I'm running late, riding in before traffic, or facing particularly nasty weather, I may ride that road, or a portion of it anyhow. Typically, after about 1.5 miles, I jump onto a bike path for most of the remaining 2.5 miles. That takes the edge off a bit.

My go-to route is longer, more like 6 miles, but much more relaxing. And that's some bonus time on the bike. Here in Rapid City, a bike path follows Rapid Creek through a continuous ribbon of parks spanning the width of most of the city. From home, I meander through quiet neighborhoods for over a mile in the wrong direction before eventually hopping on the bike path. Then I ride the well-maintained bike path winding all the way to downtown.

My go-to route is embarrassingly easy and safe: mostly bike path, separate from traffic, relatively short, flat, protected from the worst of the wind, and scenic. The city even plows the bike path promptly after our frequent snow storms. I really don't have a reason not to ride every day.

Detour on some skinny dirt roads on Skyline Park right by downtown.
I took this picture one day taking "The Long Way Home."

Of course, I don't ride the same route every day. I've found many alternatives, including some stretches of gravel alleys and limestone paths. Also, with M-Hill and Skyline Park right by downtown, I can catch some amazing single track on my ride home. And there's always Skyline Drive for some fast, curvy pave, if you're willing to climb a bit. (see prior post The Long Way Home).

In any event, all those alternatives come with time. The starting point is finding a go-to route to get to work, ready to work, and a go-to route to get home, dropping work along the way.

First, commit. Then, find your way.

Getting ready to roll some ridge line pave on Skyline Drive on a "Long Way Home."

Addendum for those with a "too long" commute:  It doesn't have to be all or nothing. That is, if your commute is too far to ride your bike, create an alternative. One way is to drive some and ride some. For many years in Denver, I enjoyed a 27 mile one-way commute that I would ride on occasion. Typically, however, I drove 10 miles of busy roads to a public transportation park-n-ride, where hundreds of train commuters parked their cars all day. From there, I rode on a bike path winding 16 miles along the South Platte River, leaving but a mile in traffic across downtown Denver. Find your way.

Ready To Play

Put me in Coach. I'm ready to play. Today.
Centerfield, John Fogerty (1985).

Shaun Arritola, Craig Groseth & Rob Sorge at the end of our 5 day, 300+ mile DED Dirt Ride in 2014,
which was part of Rob's start to his "Second Half."

Several years ago, Rob Sorge, my best friend from college, retired after a successful 33+ year career as an engineer. At that time, Rob thoughtfully created an outline, or perhaps more of a conceptual framework, on how to live the next phase of his life with intentionality and purpose. He called his post-retirement phase "The Second Half" and shared it with family and friends. Ever since, he has relentlessly pursued his "Second Half," just like he pursued a loose ball on the basketball court, a baseline bullet on the tennis court, or a finish in the swimming pool.

In a recent congratulatory note to me, Rob noted that now I was entering my "The Second Half." He then added that, for me, maybe it's my "Third Quarter." At first, I thought he was referring to my playing football and basketball, which both had four quarters.

But, no. Rob wasn't referring to sports. My First Quarter was everything leading to and including a 21+ year career in the private practice of law as an intellectual property law litigator. From the start, I had the heart, mindset and lifestyle of go/go/go, achieve/achieve/achieve, next/next/next. Shoot for the top, the hardest, the best. Excel. Move up. Move forward. Move on. Next.

Eventually, I realized that working so hard to achieve makes it difficult to recognize success, let alone enjoy it. At age 47, I radically changed. All of it. Heart. Mindset. Lifestyle. I extracted myself from all of that and started my Second Quarter.

Centerfield, John Fogerty (1985).

We moved to Rapid City, South Dakota, my wife's hometown, and I began to search for a unmet community need. In a wildly unexpected development, I was led to serve our community as a Correctional Officer at the Pennington County Sheriff's Office. Now, there's a community service need that very few are able or willing to undertake, let alone endure for any length of time. It is a difficult environment that demands interpersonal communication skills and situational awareness far beyond the court room. Despite the challenges, I loved the opportunity to serve and I loved the people.

However, it's also a young man's game, which I played at my best for 12 years. But I can't play forever and the clock eventually expired on my Second Quarter. Closing in on age 62, I recently retired from the Pennington County Sheriff's Office.

Now, it's my Third Quarter. I do not know where this will lead. I do not yet have an outline, other than a determination to keep an open heart, being especially attentive to a call to serve an unmet need.

Put me in, Coach. I'm ready to play. Today.

A Final Commute

Today is my last day riding my bike to work. That's because it's my last day of work, at least in this career. Today I officially retire from the Pennington County Sheriff's Office.

Riding downstream on the bike path along Rapid Creek past M-Hill and then toward the sun to downtown Rapid City.

For the past 12 years, I have ridden a bicycle to work practically every day. Not absolutely every day, but practically every day.

With shifting work responsibilities and a maturing family, one constant throughout the years was cycling. Every day, I hopped on my bike and rolled through our neighborhood, grinning in disbelief that I got to ride my bike that day. As if dipped in magic waters, I'm 12 years old riding to the park to play baseball with my friends.

After a shift, or a shift and a half, working in a demanding environment, I hopped on my bike and rolled home. Two rides in one day! Somewhere along the way, work troubles always seemed to drop off the back. They just couldn't hang with the pace of the good vibes pulling me along.

"It'll be as if they dipped themselves in magic waters. The memories will be so thick, 

they'll have to brush them away from their faces." Terrance Mann, Field of Dreams (1989).

Cycling travels at a human level. I loved seeing and greeting all kinds of folks along the bike path that formed a large portion of my commute. Even in the depths of a western South Dakota winter, folks are out, throughout the day and night, enjoying the bike path for recreation and transportation.

The most regular of the regulars, however, was cyclist Bill Marquadt. A retired 70-something year old, Bill rides almost 50 miles every day, year round, totaling somewhere around 16,000+ miles per year. When I rode in at about 6:00 am, I often saw him riding home. We regularly stopped to chat for a moment, so I may need an early ride now and then to catch up with Bill.

A fun, little side trail along the other side of Rapid Creek on the base of M-Hill.

The newest regular along my commute was Lucas Haan, an enterprising young School of Mines engineer with a passion for all things cycling and beer. Last winter, Lucas successfully completed the Icy Bike Winter Cycling Challenge by commuting 81 days during our 6 month winter. He even arranged his schedule to share with me part of his ride home. I may need to arrange my retirement schedule to occasionally ride in with Lucas.

Riding my bike to work simply started as a way to get to work. It became an integral part of my lifestyle. I will miss it.

Entering downtown Rapid City as the city awakens.

Commit

commitment (noun) / ke - 'mit - ment
1a. an agreement or pledge to do something in the future
 b. something pledged
 c. the state or an instance of being obligated or emotionally compelled
Merriam-Webster dictionary


A commitment.

It starts with a commitment, i.e., a decision, an internal agreement with yourself, or a pledge to yourself, to do something particular in the future. And not just any decision, agreement or pledge, but one that obligates or emotionally compels you to actually do that something in the future. Probably at the expense of doing something easier or more enjoyable now. And even in the face of adversity. More to the point, especially in the face of adversity.

A commitment. Start with a commitment. Everything else follows.



Sometimes, you just have to commit.
(photo by Shaun Arritola)

That's how I started bike commuting. One year, many years ago, I simply committed to ride my bike to work once a week for a year. Just once a week.

Surprisingly, it was much easier and more fun than I imagined. But it was not without challenges.

Regardless of your commitment, or your intention, motivation, determination, stubbornness, or anything else behind it, you will be challenged. Something, maybe many somethings, will attack your commitment, including your bike, gear, clothing, work, family, weather, illness, injury, etc., etc., etc. How you react to those challenges determines whether you honor your commitment and, ultimately, defines you.

So, I commit to ride once a week and everything starts out great. But then, a work week somehow runs out with my bike still hanging in the garage. What to do?

What I don't do is worry about it. And I definitely don't think of ways to make it up the following week. I know that traveling that thought process creates a mindset that tolerates and excuses a failure to honor my commitment. Riding once a week is riding once a week. It is not the same to ride 4 times a month.

Rather than play the excuse and catch up game, I use that missed opportunity to redouble my mental efforts to ride the following week. One ride at a time. One week at a time. One way or another, I'm riding in the next week.

"The Death Star plans are down there. Cassian, K2, and I will find them. We'll find a way to find them."
Jyn Erso, Star Wars: Rogue One (2016).

When I started my once a week commitment to bike commuting, I had to deliberately and doggedly ink it on my schedule. For any given week, typically only one or two days were even possible to ride in, even after juggling. My commitment focused me to somehow work it in. It also focused me to actually ride that day, because I likely would not be able to ride in another day that week. It worked because I worked at it.

The day will come when you just don't want to ride in, maybe even with good reasons. If you really cannot ride in, or if you really need a mental break, you may need to miss that day. But I challenge you to recognize that feeling when it inevitably comes. Acknowledge it. Then challenge it. After a moment of honest reflection, I usually conclude that such a day is when I really need to find a way to ride in, after all.

"Sons of Gondor, of Rohan, my brothers! I see in your eyes the same fear that would take the heart of me! A day may come, when the courage of men fails, when we forsake our friends, and break all bonds of fellowship. But it is not this day! An hour of wolves and shattered shield, when the age of men comes crashing down. But it is not this day! This day we fight! By all that you hold dear on this good Earth, I bid you, Stand, Men of the West!"
Aragorn, The Return of the King, The Lord of the Ring (2003).

Over the course of that first year, I learned that my commitment to ride once a week, and my working diligently to honor that commitment, built a solution-focused mindset. I found ways to ride into work, almost every week. And I eventually figured out all the logistical details that appear difficult from the outset and insurmountable from the outside.

My commitment grew into a habit, in a surprisingly enjoyable way. On my ride into work, I looked forward to a bonus ride during my favorite part of the day. On my ride home, I decompressed after another long day at the office. Along the way, I met interesting people, interacted with wildlife of all kinds, and experienced nature and community like never before. My bike commuting day became my favorite day of the week.

And it all started with a commitment to ride one day a week.

Ride Today

A commitment grows into a habit that matures into a lifestyle.

Colorado cyclist Scot Stucky started the Icy Bike Winter Commuting Challenge in 2012 to encourage others to try commuting to work by bicycle during the colder months. His basic idea was to set a goal of bike commuting a total of 52 times during the time period of October 1 through March 31. That's an average of twice per week for 26 weeks. Several of his friends jumped on board, word spread quickly and a community sprang to life. Icy Bike Winter Commuting Challenge FaceBook Group.

Since 2012, the Icy Bike Winter Commuting Challenge continues to grow and the FaceBook group now numbers more than 1300 members from many states and countries. His friend Mike Prendergast even created a documentary film of their experience. A Winter Of Cyclists. Thank you, Scot and Mike, and everyone out there challenging themselves, encouraging others and holding each other accountable.

Spring snow on my ride home from work. This view cannot be seen from a car.

The Icy Bike Winter Commuting Challenge is over for this winter. I'm posting this now to encourage you to try riding a bicycle to work or for errands, while weather is less of an obstacle. Then, when it turns colder, it will be easier to keep going, rather than to start. And then you can join the Icy Bike Winter Commuting Challenge, too.

But wait, there's more. Just as the Icy Bike Winter Commuting Challenge ends, another community starts its own challenge. 30 Days of Biking. Cyclists simply commit to riding their bike, over any distance, every day during the month of April. I've completed this before and it's harder than you think, even for a daily bike commuter and weekend cycling enthusiast. But it builds a mindset.

Decompressing on a bike ride home from work.

Undertakings like the Icy Bike Winter Commuting Challenge and the 30 Days of Biking seem daunting when thinking of the overall commitment. But neither are difficult on any particular day. You just get on your bike that day and ride. Just that day. You don't have to think about tomorrow, the day after, or more. Just that day. Get on your bike and ride.

That's not a bad approach to most anything that seems overwhelming. Break it down to what you can do today and start that.

A commitment grows into a habit that matures into a lifestyle.