Kappers does indeed set a fearsome average mph; just at the top end of my sustainable cadence on the stiff little fixer's current gearing, and I would be the worst of all kinds of liar if I said I was as brisk heading home.
Stop reading now if you currently think I'm sexy.
Being a hot day I was sweating pretty profusely, but I didn't realise until I got home that Wednesday's sunburn had apparently seared the pores shut in the top layer of skin on my back. Thus the sweat just collected in moonbase-looking blisters and had no cooling effect, which might be why the rest of me was in full-on knackered fire hydrant in the Bronx mode.
I also discovered something that led to a rethink of the stiff little fixer's handlebar setup and gearing. I had considered yesterday the bars' last chance to convince me that I shouldn't flip the stem to upright mode and save some pressure on my wrists, and similarly the gearing's closing argument for staying under mid-seventy inches. While the bars are still an uncomfortably deep drop and a little crushy on the ol' handankles, it turns out that they are ace for sustained downhills in sub-mid-seventy inches.
Interlude: why is there such a fuss about mid-seventy inches of gear? Well, that's the region where my maximum controllable RPM (which is about 150) means I'm going at ~33mph which is terminal velocity if I adopt a deliberately non-aero posture. At that point I can push the bike quicker if I wish, which in terms of psychological security is a world away from literally being unable to make the bike go faster. That's when it's riding you. Me no likey Soviet Russia bike.
Where was I? Oh, yes: fat. So, it turns out that hunkered down in the deep drops(which you'd think is the worst thing I could do if I was concerned about spinning too fast on a downhill) has a no-effort braking effect. The two adamant pillars of sculpted marble I call 'my thighs' get squished into the semi-liquid sackful of eyebleach that is my beer belly three times a second and decelerate to the point that I don't need to do anything but relax and let the resulting lipid dubstep remix lower my terminal velocity into my comfort zone.
Fatbraking and souplesse for the win.
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